Does He Know You?
by KurlyQ722
Summary: I knew you then... Do I know you still? I do know you, love, and always will. Never let go of the one who holds your heart.
1. Chapter 1 The Reclaiming

**~O~ Volume One: **_**I knew you then….. **_**~O~**

**Sam's return has proven to be the catalyst Mercedes needed to reassess her relationship with Shane. And after a brief encounter with her blond Casanova, Mercedes is more sure than ever that he's the one for her. But she's never been one to cheat and hates the idea of hurting Shane or Sam's feelings with her decision. Will their past summer love survive their present drama?**

**~O~ ~O~**

As Mercedes walked down the hallway, boyfriend in tow, she realized with mild disdain that she'd forgotten her geometry textbook in her locker. _Again. _

It wasn't a real surprise, though. Ever since Sam Evans blew into McKinley like a fresh wind, Mercedes had a tendency to forget the important things. She'd pass him in the halls and forget the direction of her next class, wandering aimlessly like some freshman. She'd spot him at lunch, and her feet would make the occasional mistake of walking toward his table on autopilot. It would only take a few steps before Mercedes remembered that he was an _ex_-boyfriend, and her current boyfriend was sitting and waiting for her five tables down.

Sometimes, on her worst days, when Shane would kiss her cheek and whisper _I love you _in her ear, she would forget in her reply of _I love you, too_ that she was supposed to be looking into his eyes instead of glancing at the blond haired, green eyed boy with lush lips who stole her heart that summer…

"_Summer is long over, girl…."_ she reminded herself. And old feelings had no place in her present.

Luckily, there was still five minutes to spare before class.

"I forgot my geometry books again." she told Shane, slightly embarrassed since it was the third time this week.

"Again? Babe, we might have to start tetherin' all your books to your wrists so you don't leave 'em behind! What, you don't want me to walk you to class?" Shane joked.

Though he said it in jest, his words had struck a raw nerve. It was almost like that was _exactly _what her subconscious was doing.

The revelation shocked her, but she quickly hid her surprise with a coy smile and a lie. "I would never want to leave you, baby." she told him, sealing her false covenant with a kiss on the cheek. Reluctantly, Shane released her hand and continued on to his classes, glancing briefly at her ass with a cocky grin before continuing on his merry way.

Mercedes walked on with less gusto. She opened her locker and retrieved the necessary books on autopilot, plagued by her thoughts. _Why aren't I happy with Shane? He does everything right! So why does it feel so…empty between us?_

If she were paying better attention to her surroundings as she closed her locker and made her way to class, Mercedes would have realized that the answer to her question was leaning against the locker next to hers, briefly smiling at the sight of her face before his lips fell to a frown. He looked just as perplexed and flustered as she'd felt.

"Mercedes."

Every fiber of her being responded to his voice. Her muscles tensed. Her body stiffened and prickled with goose bumps, alert to his presence. Her hands clutched her books tightly to her chest, pressing against her heaving lungs to slow their breathing. Her eyelids fluttered shut and squeezed, fanning her lashes against her cheeks.

After a moment of processing, she calmed enough to face him, ready with a poker face and an emotionless reply.

"Sam, I would love to talk but I have to get to class. If I'm late for Ms. Henderson one more time, it would _not _be a good look on my record." she explained, hoping she didn't see through her lie. Acting wasn't her strong suit.

"Can we talk for a minute? It won't take long, I promise." The desperation and anguish in his voice instantly broke through her defenses. Mercedes's resolve crumbled instantly at his request.

Sam watched her eyes soften toward him. Feeling encouraged, he added a "Please, Mercy" that was just as urgent and needy.

Damned if they both didn't know exactly what he was doing, if she couldn't see right through his ploy—she had learned this boy's tells so well over the summer—but it didn't stop Mercedes from agreeing, against her better judgment.

Sam pulled her into the nearby janitor's closet and quickly shut the door behind them, turning the small lock on the doorknob. What he wanted to say—_needed _to say—required her full attention and minimal interruptions.

"What's this about, Sam? Is everything okay? You know you can tell me." She sweetly assured him.

Sam remained silent, studying her eyes, wondering if she realized how adorable and warm they looked when she was concerned. He'd been a sucker for their chocolate brown expressions since the day they'd met; mesmerized by the way they invited and held him captive. He felt at home in her eyes.

He felt at home with her.

Why couldn't he tell her that? All Sam wanted to do was wrap his arms around her waist, hold her close, and kiss her lips again, assuring her that he would always be okay as long as she was his.

And there lied the problem. She _wasn't_ his anymore, and it pained him more than any pain he could remember in his young life. And much as he wanted to kiss her and love her like he did last summer, he knew…

"I can't."

"What?" Mercedes strained to hear his whisper.

Sam sighed, repeating himself."I said I can't, Mercedes."

"Can't what, Sam?" She pouted and looked so genuinely confused and, damn it all, so kissable that Sam had to sink his teeth into his bottom lip, using the pain to keep his focus.

"I can't see you with Shane, watch you with him, when I know that you're still mine. It feels wrong."

It was Mercedes turn to punish her bottom lip, more to lessen the pain in her heart from his words and focus on an easier, physical affliction. "Sam, we went over this a while ago. I'm with Shane now. We can't be together because those feelings…those feeling were summer and our season has passed. Can't you understand?" She pleaded.

His eyes had closed when she said Shane's name, and now more than ever, she needed him to look at her so the message could hit home. He needed to believe it. And, as loathe as she was to admit it to herself, she needed him to look at her so she could make a clean break of him and, eventually, believe that they were over, too.

"Sam?" She touched his cheek, trembling slightly when her skin finally touched his. It had been so long since they'd touched. Months had passed since their last caress. And she hadn't tasted his lips since….

Oh father, help her. Now was not the time to revisit old memories. She needed to escape them, move on with her life. Why was she stuck in June?

Sam's green eyes burst open in surprise at her touch, and he instinctively turned his face to nuzzle his nose against her hand, pressing against her fingers like he'd been starving for her affection. When he finally looked at her again, glossy eyed from unshed tears, she knew he was thinking the same thing she was.

What she didn't expect was for him to be bold enough to voice his feelings.

"Does he know you, Mercy?" Sam asked gently, his stare unyielding.

Damn him. Damn him for his free thoughts and open heart. Damn him for the break in his voice that proved he was being genuine. And damn the single tear that fell down his reddened cheek, urging her to grab his face and kiss his pain away.

"He loves me, Sam." She answered, looking away. "He loves me for who I am and he never asks me to change. He supported me when I joined the Troubletones and…"

"That wasn't my question, Mercedes." His voice darkened, raw from restrained passion. "Does. He. Know. You?"

Mercedes shook her head, trying her hardest to pretend that she didn't understand."Sam, I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Does he know your eyes? Can he look into them and read every emotion? Identify them well enough to know whether you need a hard kiss to bring you out of your thoughts or a hug to know someone is there for you to cry on? Does he?"

His questions rendered her dumb. He was asking too much. Her brain couldn't process a lie fast enough to seem convincing.

"I'm sure that he…" Mercedes swallowed hard, fighting the growing lump in her throat. "Yes, I think that…"

"Or your skin, Mercy? Does he know your skin? Is the smell of you so familiar to him that he can close his eyes and remember? Does he hold you when you're fresh from a shower, just after you've put on your honey vanilla lotion? Does he kiss your neck to feel its softness? Does he breathe you in when you're near him and know that only you could make a fragrance so delicious? Does he want more? I always did."

Mercedes had to stop him. She knew that his words were drifting into very, very dangerous territory. "Sam, you can't say things like…."

"And your smile?" he interrupted, stepping closer. " Does he ever do stupid avatar impressions and make a complete fool of himself just to see your face light up? Does he know about that spot on your ankle that makes you wiggle and laugh uncontrollably? Does he tell you how beautiful you are when you're happy? And hope to God every day that he can always find something to say or do to make you smile forever?"

"Sam…" She let him run his hands over her shoulders. By then, she was in a mess of tears.

Mercedes couldn't believe that he'd noticed all of those things about her, that he still cared to know. She knew Shane didn't understand half of what Sam had said about her. Sam knew that, too. His questions were only to help her see the truth.

When she felt him panting near her mouth, her breathing halted. Sam's hungry stare devoured her lips. His hard body pressed ever so gently against her softness, entering her personal space, careful to leave enough room for her to run away if she'd wanted. It was her right. She had a new boyfriend and was in a committed relationship. There wasn't anything that kept her here, with him. She could push him away and insist it was over. Tell him what a fool he was to believe that there was still something between them.

But Mercedes hardly flinched, never once making a move to step away.

He had to make her see. She had to realize how much she'd meant to him, then and now.

The fire in his eyes made her tremble, both from gripping fear and intense desire. She wanted this, wanted him, since she'd said goodbye beneath the sunset on his last day in Ohio. Endless summer days aching for him, remembering all they'd shared together.

Sam was the void she couldn't fill. Her relationship felt empty because it was with the wrong guy. The epiphany made her gasp.

Sam smiled, realizing that she'd come to the same conclusions that he had months ago. He pressed against her more firmly, daring her to move with his stare. Ghosts of kisses trailed across her left cheek, leaving a tangible heat in their wake. When Sam finally reached her ear and nipped her lobe, she surrendered in a whimper, tilting her head to give him room.

"Your lips, Mercy." He growled. Their chests were pressed so tightly together that he could feel the moment her heart started racing. Mercedes silently prayed that she could remember how to speak after his voice vibrated in her ear, low and commanding, like that.

"What abou—Oh _God_, Sam…" His fingers traced the curve of her hips, inching beneath the hem of her blouse to touch her bare skin. "What about my—_mmph!_—my lips?"

Sam slid his lips down her cheek slowly, leaving gentle kisses as moved closer and closer to her delicious mouth. He kissed its smooth corners, then the arc of her chin, before nudging her bottom lip with his own.

"Does he worship them, Mercy? Does he appreciate them and everything they can do?" He earnestly asked, clenching his free fist to keep himself from burying his tongue down her throat. "Does he watch them open like petals when you speak or nibble them when they're puffy and swollen from being kissed senseless? Has he even kissed you senselessly?"

His lips were a breath away from hers when he whispered his next words. "Has he felt them press kisses up and down his chest, leaving prints of mauve lipstick behind on his skin? Or watched them, soft and wet, as they wrapped around the head of his cock, giving him pleasure he never knew existed?" His stomach churned at the thought. "God Mercedes, please tell me that he's never done any of those things with you. Not when we….." Sam's breath hitched. "Just…_please._"

Her head shook frantically, leaning in, guided by his pull. "He's never…We would never…."

And before Mercedes could find the words to finish her thought, her lips met his, mashed together and burning with need. When the gap had finally closed between them, they both sighed in relief, utterly content. She had never felt so happy to be in anyone's arms. He had never felt so complete in anyone's kiss.

Their mouths parted and moved in sync, and tongues danced and swirled and wrapped around each other like old friends in familiar places. It wasn't just lust between them. There was a knowing, an intimate knowledge and awareness that only love could bring, making the moment all the more arousing.

Mercedes was the first to pull away, gasping desperately for air as she held his shoulders. Their bodies remained close. Looking down, she noticed, for the first time, how wrapped in each other they actually were. Mercedes couldn't recall the exact moment when her leg had wrapped around his waist during their kiss, nor could she pinpoint the exact moment that Sam had maneuvered himself between her thighs, grinding against the heat between them and hoisting her ass up to support her weakened knees.

Like it mattered, anyway. Who was complaining? Sam's steady thrusts put the most delicious and direct pressure on her clit. His hips were still at work, a full minute after their kiss had ended.

"Sam, we should really—Oh, GOD!—we should really….really…" Her dampness grew, dripping from her and soaking through her leggings. She felt her orgasm build, coiling like tiny springs in the lowest part of her belly, ready to burst forth when the pressure grew too great. It was maddening pleasure.

"Stop? You want me to stop, baby?" he asked her, breathless and unrelenting, kissing down her neck to her collarbone, shoulders, and any exposed skin he could immediately reach. Nuzzling her chest, Sam made an immediate notice of the way her breasts perked up from his attentions and smiled wolfishly.

Mercedes could resist a lot of things—displays of emotion, his advances, his words—but he knew his woman's body well enough to know that a few minutes of toying with her nipples would make her come undone in his hands.

"Does he know how to touch you, Mercy? Where to touch you? How fast to rub or how hard to flick to get you dripping and ready? I know because you let me in. I'm the one whose touch gets you wet, baby, and no asshole like Shane is ever gonna change that."

Mercedes knew she should've stopped Sam when he'd mentioned Shane's name. She slid her palms up his chest, ready to push him away, but then his hands had skated under her shirt and roughly pulled her bra cups under her breasts. His thumbs slowly circled her nipples and, shit, she forgot her own name, much less any man other than Sam that she's supposed to be committed to.

The hands on his chest grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her, instead.

Moving his hands from her breasts, Sam took the leg around his waist and pushed it up and back, opening her up for him. His other hand snuck underneath the tight black leggings he loved so much to tease her pussy, circling around her slick opening, leisurely dipping an index finger inside her heat after it had finished its lap around her swollen lips.

"Does he play with you, baby? Does Shane know that you don't like to be turned over and fucked without a little teasing?" Sam whispered, licking the shell of her ear. "You used to tell me that a good finger fuck should only be the appetizer, something to get you going before the main course arrives."

He had to chuckle at the analogy. Mercedes was so clever with words. She always had a unique way of expressing what she liked and wanted. He loved her intelligence and brazen honesty. It was a part of the reason why she could never be dishonest with him, not really. His knowledge of her tells, combined with her penchant for truth, made her a terrible liar.

The eager sound of her whimpers reminded Sam that her body didn't lie either. She'd wanted him, too. Judging from the slippery glide of his fingers and the gush of cum on his palm as he pushed into her, she had wanted him for a while.

"Please, Sam! More! Don't stop, don't ever…..ugh….fuck!….don't stop fucking me." Mercedes hot words lit Sam afire. He became keenly aware of his own ache, standing hard and proud between his legs.

"Mercedes?" he asked, nearly begging as he reached down to unbutton his jeans with one hand, steadily pumping into her with the other. He fished inside his boxers to grasp and release his cock, sighing in relief when the lick of cool air brushed across the heated and engorged flesh.

He only needed her permission to find his relief. As much as he couldn't wait to bury his dick as far inside her as he could reach, he needed her to say yes to him.

Perhaps, if he were honest with himself, he needed her to say yes to satisfy more than just his physical need. But, priorities...first things first….

"Mercedes? Sweetheart, look at me."

Her eyes opened to stare into his, glazed over with lust and clouded in pleasure from Sam's unrelenting fingers.

"Yes, Sam?" she breathily replied. She followed his eyes down and unconsciously licked her lips as she watched Sam rapidly stroke himself. She clenched hard in anticipation.

"Are you hungry?" Sam growled, sending another stream of wetness down her soaked thighs and leggings.

"What? I don't…_oh, fuck_!" she gasped when he roughly pinched and twirled her clit between his fingers.

"You've had the appetizer. But, it's not enough is it? You still want more. Are. You. Hungry?"

Her head fell back against the wall and her eyes rolled back as she rode Sam's fingers. Mercedes reached up to pinch and twist her nipples, hoping to bring herself closer to relief.

Sam stopped stroking himself and removed the hand between her thighs, pushing his fingers through her hair and tugging until she was forced to look at him. When their eyes met, the urgency of the action was forgotten.

Overwhelmed by the love and adoration in her eyes, Sam leaned in and slowly kissed Mercedes. He took her carefully, moving against her lips with such tenderness and unabashed love that tears streamed down her face. She felt everything he wasn't saying with words. He wasn't asking for permission to screw her senseless. Sam was pleading for the chance to love her again.

Could she let him? Would she? So much had happened between summer and now. She couldn't number the nights she'd wept into her pillow when he'd left, hurting over him. The feeling of loss that ate away her days when she thought of him. The emptiness that stole her free hours when she'd remember the way his hugs warmed her body. She had never needed someone like she'd needed Sam. And after him, Mercedes had taken great pains to prevent herself from ever needing anyone like that again.

But, as strong and independent as she was, Sam returned and made her willingly give her heart to him. It was then that Mercedes realized she had never gotten it back to give to Shane or anybody else. And now that the opportunity had presented itself to retrieve it, she realized that she didn't _want _to. There was only Sam. Just Sam. Always Sam.

He broke their kiss, keeping their foreheads connected, and waited with baited breath for her reply. His heart burst from the answer he saw in her eyes, but he needed to hear it from her. His eyes silently begged her and posed the question again.

Her reply was quiet, but unwavering and sure. "Yes, Sam. I still want you." Fresh tears streamed down her face, then his, at her confession. The doubt had drifted away, and relief rushed over them as warm and sure as sunlight. Mercedes felt the burden lift immediately, and found that she couldn't stop saying _Yes _as she peppered his face with kisses, making them both smile.

He bent down to peel her leggings off, kissing each inch of revealed thigh as they fell from her. Her underwear fell behind them, and Sam caressed and squeezed her bare backside as he lifted her up against the wall. Open and slick for him, Sam slid his dick along her opening, coating it with her juices, before sliding inch by agonizing inch inside of her.

It took several small thrusts to grow accustomed. Sam was a large man and it had been a while since they were together. But soon, Mercedes relaxed around him, and he sunk into her heat. Once fully sheathed, Mercedes took both of his hands to lace her fingers with his, just like she did the first time they'd made love.

Their eyes met as they smiled, unknowingly sharing the same memory.

"Don't let me go." She said with a brief chuckle, hiding her fear in humor.

"Never again." promised Sam, meeting her lips in a small kiss. School surroundings forgotten, the couple joined and indulged in each other as if time were theirs, savoring all that months apart had stolen from them. New life birthed between them.

But soon his kisses, much like his thrusts, grew urgent and unrelenting. The lust of the moment returned, and Sam pounded into her with all the desire and want he'd harbored for her since June. Her thighs rippled from the force. Mercedes locked her legs tighter around him, desperate to hold on as he rocked against her. Needing to see all of her as she came, Sam pulled her glittered purple blouse over her head, then groaned at the sight of the glistening breasts jiggling wildly on her chest. How had he gone so long without this?

Mercedes caught his admiring stare and smiled, unconsciously deepening the arch in her back. She loved how much he loved her body.

Sensing they were both on the brink of orgasm, Sam held her thighs and ass up with his arms and buried his face in her neck, turning his lips up to whisper in her ear. "Mercedes, can I ask you one more question?"

"Anything, Sam. Any fucking thing, just don't _stop_." she whined, frantically meeting his thrusts.

He grinned at her eagerness. "Does Shane make you want to scream his name when you orgasm? Do you think about him when you bury your fingers in your pussy at night and pleasure yourself? Or is it just me?"

"Only you, Sam…. It's always…..will always…." And she shook violently as she came, overwhelmed by the sudden and welcomed attack of pleasure. Sam pushed in as deep as he could when he came, aching to be as far inside her as possible, groaning her name as he let go and clung to her smaller frame.

"Sam…" she whispered reverently, opening her eyes to study his face. The corners of his jaw always bulged when he was coming. It was one of the random things she'd kept locked away in memory of their first time together. His jaw tightened as if he were gritting his teeth, forcing himself to maintain his control around her. The knowledge that he held such beastly abandon inside him, but chose to tame it out of concern for her, turned Mercedes on even more. One day, someday soon, she wanted to let him loose. Just thinking of a future with him made her shiver, with a desire more emotional than physical.

Sam opened his eyes when he'd finished and grinned, wrinkling his nose against hers. And his smile, contagious as it was, made her smile just as wide.

"Mercedes…" He whispered back, pulling her into a gentle hug. Silent tears fell as she returned his embrace, reveling in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms. The faint sound of the bell ringing in the hallway interrupted the quiet of their moment.

"Classes are over. The bell just rung." Mercedes said, unable to think of anything else to say outside of the obvious as she looked into his eyes. Sam studied her—all of her—from her mascara-streaked cheeks and shiny nose to her strewn bangs, now straight and sticking to her forehead, and delectable, well-fucked body. Anything he'd called true love before her had been a pale imitation of the words.

"I don't care. I'm never letting you go again. I promise." And Sam meant it with everything in him.


	2. Chapter 2 The Vow

**OMG thank you guys so much for your honest feedback and loving words! I felt inspired to expand on the story a bit, for several reasons. Reason numero uno is because you guys are AWESOME and I wanted to give you more. Reason number two being that I hated leaving Mercedes depicted as a cheater and Sam as a, for lack of better words, smug bastard with disregard for other people's relationships. What they have is stronger and purer than that. Really, they were just two people that were in love but separated by circumstance and, once given the opportunity, got caught up in the feelings they had and still have for each other. Does it make it right or fair to Shane? No. And will there be repercussions? Well, just read and find out…..**

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, and after twenty minutes of whispered I love you's and gentle kisses, Sam reluctantly left Mercedes to straighten up and clean up a bit before their next classes. Thankfully, this was their lunch period, so the hallways were less crowded and Sam could slip out somewhat inconspicuously to avoid prying eyes and teenage gossip. Finally reaching the bathroom and looking at his reflection under the fluorescent lighting, Sam couldn't help but smile at the glossy lip marks pressed all over his face and the cherry redness of his swollen lips. _I have my mercy back, _he thought. Sam grinned, thinking of all this moment meant for the future of their relationship. She would dump Shane and be back in his arms, where he always wanted her. Where she belonged before circumstance cruelly tore them apart and where she still belongs now. He couldn't wait to restart their forever together.

Meanwhile, after Sam's departure, reality truly started to hit Mercedes. _Hard. _For one, the guilt of what she had done to Shane, behind his back, had her stomach churning and mind dizzy. She was no cheater. Mercedes was loyal and prided herself on being a woman of integrity and honesty. Sure, her and Shane's relationship had been rocky since Sam reappeared on the scene, causing subtle changes in their dynamic as a couple, but she had never done anything to have Shane mistrust her.

So, how exactly do you explain making love to your ex-an ex that she doubly assured him she was done with and over-to your current boyfriend?

More importantly, how do you explain that you lied about your feelings for said ex being in the past while still saving face?

If she were honest with herself, Mercedes has been cheating on Shane with Sam long before this encounter. With every stolen glance and silent smirk, Mercedes had lost her heart to him again. Coupled with the shameless flirting during their Glee Christmas number and the infamous proclamation of his love and desire for her in the hallway, Mercedes realized that she had, without realizing it, _emotionally _cheated with Sam. And that would hurt Shane even worse than their hot and heavy tryst in the janitor's closet. You can try and work through sexual infidelity. It was one of those painful things that happened to couples to test their relationship and, if overcome, could prove them stronger as a couple.

There was no way, though, to work through giving away your heart to another man. Especially since Mercedes had no intention of fighting to get it back. She loved Sam. She knew she loved him and would always love him as surely as she knew she needed air to breathe. And he loved her just as fiercely. Shane had just, unfortunately, entered her life during an emotional crossroads, never truly understanding what he had just become a part of. He was a casualty in the war of Mercedes' heart and never knew he was destined to lose.

With this, Mercedes had finished straightening up herself to look semi presentable. Deciding to skip lunch, she ran to her locker for her stash of "emergency beauty essentials", meant for moments when makeup would smudge or lipstick would fade during the day. Divas _always_ look on point, and Mercedes Jones was no exception.

Even if the reason for her disarray was as….pleasurable…..as her recent encounter was.

She had to smile at that. Leave it to Sam to roughen up her perfectly manicured plans. She had become comfortable with Shane and the thought of her potential life with him. Much like in Glee Club and in her friendships, Mercedes had grown used to compromising for second best. When she was with Sam, she was light and life. He forced her to be absolutely everything she is without apology, and she loved him for giving her back her confidence. Then summer happened, and her lifeline was gone. But in walked Shane and, in her dark shroud of despair at Sam's absence, she jumped at even the potential light he offered. Sure, it wasn't the fairytale ending she had hoped for, but who really gets their fairytale anyway?

Then, Sam came back in, promising sunrises and moonlit kisses and a perfect love that she never imagined possible. Only thing was, she wasn't readily available for the taking. Not yet.

Opening her locker door, peering in to assess the damage of her appearance in her locker mirror, she gasped in shocked horror for two very distinct, but equally important reasons. The first being that she looked as if some massive whirlwind had hit McKinley and afflicted her in the worst way. Her luscious waves were nearly straight and her lips, once kissably coated in a delicious shade called _Plum Fairy,_ were now swollen and nearly naked. Her foundation smudged under the light sheen of sweat from her romp in the janitor's closet and against her jaw, she could see the hints of a bruise from one of Sam's many love bites scattered across her body. She looked…well….._fucked up. _

_Or well fucked_, her mind silently mused.

The other reason for her shock? She caught the reflection of her current boyfriend, Shane, in her peripheral, gazing at her appearance as well.

There was no way for this to end well…

"Missed you at lunch today, babe" Shane voiced, breaking the awkward silence. It was only a couple of seconds, but seconds seem like eons to one with a guilty conscience. "What's…what's going on?"

Maybe it was just her, but she could have sworn his question asked for more than just why she was absent from lunch. And his voice seemed….peculiar. Suspicious, almost.

Fixing her skewed eyelash quickly, she closed her locker door and sighed heavily. He didn't deserve to be lied to. He was really a great boyfriend to her. And hiding in her locker is not going to make this conversation any easier. She wanted to break it down gently to him, but couldn't find the words to start. So, she did what anyone else in her situation would do. She opened the conversation with a cliché.

"Shane, we need to talk"

"Uh oh, this can't be good! _We need to talk _is never ever good! Next, you're gonna tell me you leavin' me for someone else! What didn't I do right?" He said jokingly, but seeing the forlorn expression on his girlfriend's face, he thought that maybe his joke had hit too dangerously close to the mark.

"Mercedes? Baby, what's going on? You know I hate seeing you down like this. Tell me what's bothering you." She looked straight into his brown eyes and saw the genuine concern in them. If he couldn't make her feel any worse…

"Please, Mercy?"

Oh god, not this. It was a "Please, Mercy" that got her into this mess. But, when Sam said it, she became total mush in his hands, complying with just about anything.

And _boy, _did she thoroughly comply….

Frustrated, confused, and exhausted from all the pressure on her heartstrings, Mercedes started crying. Then, weeping openly into her cupped hands until she felt his hand envelop her in a tight hug.

"Aww babe, don't cry! Did something happen at Glee club? Did you have a stressful day today?"

She couldn't begin to explain how stressful it truly was, so she nodded into his chest in acknowledgement.

"Well, Dr. Tinsley has just the cure! Hold on, okay?" She watched him hop to his locker, open it quickly, and pull out a flash of purple something, holding it behind his back as he walked to her.

"Tada! For my special lady! " His hand emerged from behind his back holding a rather lush bouquet of purple gardenias, presenting them to her.

"Oh wow, they're beautiful, Shane. Thank you." She exclaimed with half-hearted excitement. Shane, however, did not pick up on her falseness. He beamed brightly, proud that he had made the proper choice for his girlfriend.

"I knew you would love them. Beautiful, like you, in your absolute favorite color"

"They're perfect, Shane." She reassured him, "They totally cured my sucky mood. I'll be back to fabulousness in no time. I'm…I'm sure I'll be okay."

"Are _we _okay?" he nervously inquired. "I know we don't always get to spend as much time together as we should, with football and glee club and all. But, starting today, I wanna do right by us, you know? Start our foundation strong. You are special to me, Mercedes, and I…I just wanna make sure we're alright."

She nodded absently, eyes briefly glancing down the empty hallway behind him, flicking back quickly when she spotted Sam standing near the red double doors.

He looked on at them with the most broken, pleading look in his eyes, seeing the scene before him but wanting it to be a lie. He and Shane looked at her expectantly, both waiting for a response to Shane's statement.

"We're perfect, Shane. Absolutely perfect" She said this to Shane, but her eyes never left Sam's. Her eyes spoke now, begging him to forgive her for the blatant lie she just told. For lying to herself and to Sam with her whispered promises in the closet. She had to end it with Shane on her own terms, and she hoped Sam could understand. She hoped he would wait for her, until she was ready to end it.

Sam slumped his shoulders and bowed his head, one hand coming up to angrily wipe away any oncoming tears before he walked away. And Mercedes felt the pain and bitterness of their summer ending all over again.

She looked back to Shane and false smiled again, kissing his cheek and grabbing his hand as they walked down the hall. They were about to turn the corner before she stopped in her tracks, hearing her love's familiar voice echo behind her.

"Mer..Mercedes?"

She turned quickly, seeing only his reddened eyes and defeated stance. She had to choke back her own tears, then. She had never seen him look so down, not like this.

Since Shane was there, she aimed for a nonchalant answer, although her heart ached to run to him.

"Yes, Sam?"

Sam winced slightly, his next words paining him. "I wanted to give you this before you left…..with Shane. Mr….Mr. Shue wanted you to have it"

He crossed the space of hallway between them and brushed a small note gently into her palm, taking her fingers and folding them over it protectively. He lingered a little longer than necessary, before letting her go and walking away with a whispered bye.

As he left her side and left the building, she took a breath and slowly, reverently, opened the note. Her mouth grew dry as she read his words, words that were distinctly written by Sam's hand.

_Mercy, _

_You should tell him that you hate gardenias. They are your least favorite flower, even though they are purple. You should tell him that you love roses, as cliché as they are to receive. But tell him to get the yellow ones, because as much as you love purple, yellow roses make you think of sunshine and happiness and always make you smile. _

_When you're ready, come to me._

_Yours always, Sam_

A silent tear slid down her cheek from his words. She folded back his note and slid it in her pocket for safe keeping.

"You comin', baby?" She heard Shane call out behind her. But, before she could turn to him, she glanced at the doorway, where Sam had taken his leave, and smiled briefly at the memory of him.

"I'm on my way" she answered, turning and grabbing Shane's hand he led her away. And, though her mind had said it for Shane, her heart, she knew, had meant it for Sam.

_Soon, _she promised herself. _Soon. _

**Ok, don't hate me! I will get them together, I promise! But, there's a pace to these things! And though this chapter is kinda angsty, I will try to make it up to you by writing a fluffy/smutty chapter later. So just hang in there with me, m'kay? **

**P.S. Did you SEE the "Michael" episode? The .EPIC! I can't wait to see how Glee handles THAT little infidelity in the show! **

**xoxoxo**


	3. Chapter 3 Outside Observations

**This Chapter is sort of a filler and a bit AU in terms of the time frame between the "Summer's long over" hallway scene and the slushie hallway scene, but for story purposes, I wanted to put a little distance between the two scenes. **

**This chapter delves a little deeper into Shane's intentions with Mercedes and how he and others are perceiving Sam and Mercedes after she decided to continue her relationship with Shane. I do hope you like it! **

**Review if you'd like. I absolutely love to hear your thoughts, but I'm no review junkie…I promise I'll keep writing and finish it even if I only have five fans! Lol **

It had been two weeks since he had given her that note and Sam was slowly going insane from waiting. For two weeks, he had watched her walk around on Shane's arm, giggling and laughing with him, and it slowly broke his heart. And he died a little more inside when he would watch Shane bend down to kiss her cheek and linger on her cheek.

Who the hell was this guy to deserve putting his lips on his woman?

And the more Sam watched, the more bitter he grew. He no longer sung anything in glee club, much to the dismay and shock of the other members, and he rarely smiled anymore. He lost focus in his classes when anything would come up that would remind him of Mercedes, and, as the days went by, almost anything would set him off or trigger a memory. He felt like he was wandering aimlessly, merely existing in a confusing shroud of want and hopelessness, with no light in sight.

The only time he even felt remotely happy was when he looked at her. As torturous as it was, he couldn't help but smile at how beautiful she was. And, even though her smiles were for Shane, in his mind they were for him and him alone. But, what had truly given him hope above all hopes that there was still a chance for them was the moments where he would stare at her and she would feel his eyes and stare back and him. In those moments, her eyes spoke of a love and a want for him that he could have never conjured up in his mind. He knew what he saw was real. Then his eyes would silently question her, asking why she wasn't in his arms yet. Her face would drop and she would break their stare, looking up briefly in apology, like she wished she was.

In those moments, Sam found hope.

From then on, his only mission was to do everything and anything he could to prove to Mercedes that he was worth leaving Shane for. Sure, he had given her his body and declared his love, but he wanted to show her that he would go to the ends of the earth to please her. And, to show her that he wasn't going to leave again, that he would stay to pick up where they left off. His first assignment? Join a sports team and get back his letterman jacket. Her bulldozer boyfriend wasn't the only one who could impress with his athletic skills. Plus, he remembered how much Mercedes enjoyed being wrapped in his old sports jacket that summer…

Mercedes, meanwhile, was in no better shape than he was. Hell, everyone had noticed the change in her. Sure, she could put up a good front with others, but the people that knew her saw that the glimmer of light in her eyes was gone. Her smiles were empty and she barely spoke anymore unless it was absolutely necessary. Even Shane had noticed that there was something very off about his girlfriend. He tried with all his might to make her smile, taking her out to special restaurants and whispering declarations of love and want for her, but nothing seemed to work. The only time he even saw a remote glimmer in her eyes was when he would take her to the choir room and ask her to play a song for him. Her fingers skated over the keys with such familiarity and reverence, like the keys spoke to her in a language only she could understand. Sometimes, when he watched her, he felt like he was intruding on something that he could never be a part of. That piano had touched a special place he would never touch and never know about her. But, seeing that soft curve of a smile grace her lips again and watching her come alive, however briefly, would always be worth it to him. He just wished she would smile at him the way she smiled when she was lost in her thoughts and caught up in the melody. He needed to find something else, anything, to make her eyes sparkle again.

But the day where he finally did see it come back, where his desire for her finally came true, he realized that he should be very, very careful for the things he wished for.

He waited for her in the hallway, like he always did, as she went to go retrieve her books for study hall. Leaning against the lockers and scrolling through his blackberry, reading the email he got from coach on his football stats this season, he almost miss the lean flash of blond walking toward his girlfriend, stepping with purpose. He looked up then, sensing him walk toward her locker, just as some of his buddies came by and slushied him dead in the face. Shane chuckled deep in his throat. _Serves his ass right, _he thought, _doing a gay ass sport like synchronized swimming. He deserves to have his man card revoked._

Outright smiling now at his own cleverness, Shane almost went back to checking emails before he noticed Mercedes, _his _Mercedes, walking up to that fool to wipe the slushie off his face. He was at their side almost immediately.

"What's going on baby?"

Mercedes looked at him wide eyed, like he had interrupted something important. "I'm just…helping out a friend" She said, glancing back at Sam's face.

And that's when Shane saw it….

Her eyes shone and glimmered when she looked at him. Sure, he knew that Sam was Mercedes's ex, but had never considered the scrawny little white boy a threat until now. Was pretty boy Sam trying to win his lady's affections? And was she _falling_ for it?

Oh, hell naw…

"I think he'll pull through. Let me walk you to study hall."

And he watched her take one last shimmery glance at him, brush the slushie off his shoulder, and whisper her goodbyes to him.

He looked cool and collected outside, but he was steamin' mad on the inside. Did this fool know who he is? What he's up against? He was Shane Tinsley, son to Reginald Tinsley, starting quarterback and star athlete at Mckinley high in '78 and at Ohio State for two years, MVP, before blowing out his knee during playoffs. He had four sons, Shane being the youngest, who he had trained to be hardcore athletes and winners in every sense of the word. In the Tinsley home, "Win or die" wasn't just a motto, it was a way of life. His three older brothers were all star athletes when they attended Mckinley, and each had gone off to Ohio State with full scholarships and engagements to future Mrs. Tinsleys they met in high school.

So far, Shane was no exception to the Tinsley rule. He was the best damn quarterback this side of Lima Heights and had already gotten his acceptance into Ohio State with full football scholarship. It was more of a struggle to get his love life in proper order, but then he had found Mercedes that summer and knew he saw potential Mrs. Tinsley written all over her. She was smart, beautiful, a great cook, and loyal to her man beyond fault. By graduation, he figured, she would be rocking a solid diamond on her finger and cheering him on in the bleachers at every game when they went to OS together.

So, pretty boy Sam wasn't about to fuck up his plans because of some damn one month fling.

"What the hell was that?" he asked angrily, finally addressing Mercedes as the neared the end of the hall.

"What was what? I was helping Sam out, I would have done the same for anybody. No one deserves to be bullied and slushied because they decide to do something different. God knows no one in this school can tolerate if anyone is the _least _bit outside of what they deem socially acceptable" Mercedes arms crossed across her chest as she frowned. She was so tired of seeing her friends bullied and teased for their differences. Aren't differences what make people interesting and exciting? Mckinley can be so narrow minded and set in their ways, sometimes. She couldn't wait to leave here and get away from it all, just to experience something….different.

"But it's not your job to take care of everybody who gets teased and picked on! You can't kiss every bruise and make it all better!" he chastised, the emotion he felt just bursting out of him. The thought of kissing and Sam and Mercedes made Shane even angrier.

"Where the hell is this coming from all of a sudden? Now, you think you can dictate every person I help and every move I make? You don't own me, Shane!" This, whatever _this _exactly was, looked like it would escalate quickly. And she didn't know why she was suddenly so angry, but it felt damn good to finally release some of her pent up emotions.

"Oh, but pretty boy does? Someone throws a little slushie and you run to his side, like some damn lost puppy?" He tugged the hand he was holding harshly, forcing her to stop in the halls. "You need to stop giving in to old feelings and old loyalties to that sorry ass Lima loser….."

She cut her eyes quickly to him, letting go of his hand and placing them firmly on her hips. Now, she was pissed. "Let me tell you something, loud and fucking clear, Shane Tinsley" she said his name with such an icy bite, he flinched. "Don't you ever tell think-even _begin _to think that you have any say whatsoever in who I speak to, show affection for, or care about. That's MY business and my concern." She was livid now, pushing him hard in his chest with her finger and she spoke, making him back away at each word. "And don't you DARE call Sam or any one of my friends Lima losers. Sam is twice the man you will ever be and I love him" Both were momentarily shocked at her words, but she quickly continued "like I love all of my friends. If you can't respect that, or respect me? You might as well pack your shit now and hightail it, because Mercedes Jones don't play that!"

He had never seen her so angry. Steam literally rose from her head and her right eyebrow rose sharply as she stared him down. Intimidated and somewhat frightened of her (though he would never ever admit that), he decided to approach her with a softer tone and a cooler head.

"You're right, baby, I'm sorry. You have every right to defend your friends. You have a big heart and everyone deserves to be touched by it. It's just, seeing you with your ex, the way you just played into his whole martyr routine.."

"He wasn't pretending, Shane, I saw him get slushied." She was still angry, but much calmer.

Shane touched her shoulders, sliding them down to caress her arms. "I know, baby. It's just….I'm so afraid of losing you. You're so beautiful and smart and amazing. Who wouldn't want to snatch you up? Especially an ex who might of realized what he had after he walked away from it?"

_He didn't walk away, he had to leave _she thought, but didn't say it out loud.

He sighed heavily and looked down at her. "Look, I'll tell you what, let's go to study hall now, and then afterward I can take you out and fully apologize for being an overly jealous hot headed boyfriend, whose only crime was loving his beautiful girlfriend too much, hmm?" He had hoped he would get a smile out of her for that, but instead she shrugged and nodded yes.

_Great, _he thought as they walked in to the large study room, _the only emotion I can get out of her is anger. One slushie to the face, and she gives him the shimmering eyes and soft caresses. _But Shane wasn't fazed. Pretty boy was just a little challenge on his quest to win Mercedes's heart. And if it's one thing he knows he's good at, he thought smugly, it's overcoming and defeating a challenge.

She was well on her way to reading the same sentence about the Harlem renaissance for the third time in a row before she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

She smiled when her screen said "Message from Tina"

_**Hey girl! Where's your smile been lately? You know frowns are not a good look. Wrinkles in our 20's? Ewww!**_

Mercedes stifled a laugh, not wanting to get in trouble for making noise.

_**Not much to smile about right now….Studying is not the most fun thing in the world…..Can school be over now? Please? Lol **_

Her phone buzzed back almost immediately.

**_Are you sure that's all it is? Look into my ninja face and tell the truth_. **

Mercedes looked around the room, confused, until she spotted Tina at the table across from her, sporting the most serious "Don't bullshit me" face as she looked at her, squinting her eyes and crossing arms.

Mercedes smirked at her seriousness. "Not Now" she mouthed to her silently, shaking her head.

"Why not?" she silently questioned back.

Mercedes discreetly pointed to Ms. Maybaum, the study hall teacher/ monitor with the beady eyes and hairy chin. Right now, her beady eyes darted back and forth, suspiciously, between the two of them.

Tina looked down at her lap again, smiling and texting.

_**Bathroom in 10?**_

Mercedes looked up at Tina's hopeful stare. What was she gonna tell her? She didn't even have the right words to describe exactly how she was feeling about her life right now. It was all so complicated.

Then again, Tina was one of her closest friends and the first to reach out to her about her sour mood. Maybe just having someone listen to her would alleviate some confusion.

_**It's a date! We can talk better away from Shaggy….**_

_**Shaggy? **_

Tina looked up confused. Mercedes caressed her own chin and pointed at Ms. Maybaum. The fuzz, coupled with her haircut and slouch, made her look almost exactly like Shaggy from Scooby-doo.

The sudden laughter shook Tina's whole body . She had to clamp her mouth to keep the sound of her giggles in, but it was still enough to catch said teacher's attention. Her beady eyes stared her down disapprovingly, but it only made Tina laugh harder, tears coming to her eyes.

Mercedes smiled and shrugged innocently, going back back to her studies. But, not before realizing that this was the first time in the past two weeks she had found reason to genuinely smile.


	4. Chapter 4 The Tina-vention

_**A very heavy Mertina friendship chapter. Tina helps Mercedes FINALLY get some clarity on her feelings and forces her to look at her options. Pivotal chapter! It's not very long, but I do hope it is at least satisfying( I have a major exam tomorrow, so it's all I can give you for now). Enjoy!**_

After ten minutes had passed, Mercedes looked to Tina and, with a silent nod, gathered their things and made their way to the bathroom for their scheduled meeting. Mercedes stopped momentarily to tell Shane where she was going, kissed his cheek, and met a giddy Tina at the doorway, waiting for her. Tina grabbed her hand and nearly dragged her to the women's bathroom, closing the door hastily and blocking the way with a garbage can.

"Okay, girl" she said finally, turning to eye her suspiciously, "Spill everything. Don't leave out any details."

Mercedes didn't even know where to begin so, with a heavy sigh, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Sam and I had slept together and I don't know how to deal." She sighed, relieved that she voiced her concerns. She closed her eyes and leaned against the bathroom sink, waiting for Tina's response.

"Tina? Girl? You okay?" She asked worriedly, opening her eyes as her friend had yet to respond to her statement. Her face was frozen in shock, mouth gaped open so wide she could catch flies. Mercedes snapped her fingers in front of Tina's face, finally bringing her out of her catatonic state.

"Omigod Mercedes, this is HUGE! I expected you to say a lot of things, maybe even a kiss, but not THAT! Not that at all…." Her voice tapered off a bit, still a little disbelieving.

"Well, now you know why I've been so miserable! I can't eat or sleep, my thoughts are all jumbled, and every time Shane does or says anything, I'm consumed with guilt over Sam! Do you know how hard it is to sit in glee club, to be _near _him? There's still so much there with us, you know?" So overwhelmed, Mercedes started to tremble, tears pouring down her face. "And he said he loved me and he wouldn't let me go ever again. And I wanted it! I have a boyfriend waiting for me, ready to share his whole life with me, and I make love to my summer ex under his nose in the janitor's closet! What kind of girlfriend am I?" She sobbed quietly in Tina's shoulder as her friend embraced her.

"Oh, honey, you've been keeping all of this in?" She stroked her hair soothingly, feeling the pain and heartache her friend experienced. She pulled Mercedes head back and grabbed her face, locking eyes with her. "No more keeping emotions in, okay? You've got friends who love you and won't let you go through it alone. Promise me you'll tell me when you're hurting like this!"

Mercedes eyes were cast down, still spilling silent tears. She sniffled and nodded, leaning her forehead against Tina's.

"No, I mean it!" Tina tapped her cheek gently, resuming eye contact with her. "Pinky promise me you'll let me in! No more secret broken hearts!"

Mercedes looked skeptically as Tina leaned back and offered her pinky. "Pinky promise, T? Really? What are we, seven?" She scoffed in jest.

"Hey, pinky promises were practically law in the third grade. Why not now?" Tina reasoned. "Besides, I kinda feel like we drifted apart a bit ever since you came back to New Directions. Maybe even before that, really" She said, suddenly saddened.

Mercedes did miss their friendship. They had both let it fall to the wayside, caught up in their own stuff, not realizing the slow drift apart until it was too late. "Yeah, I know. I miss our morning green tea and girl talk. You always did have the best advice, T" Mercedes mused, smiling warmly at her friend.

"So? What do you say? Pinkies?" She wiggled her pinky back and forth on Mercedes nose. She had to chuckle at their sudden immaturity. She did always appreciate Tina's ability to make her feel better.

"Okay, Pinkies." said Mercedes, with mock reluctance. They smiled happily as they linked fingers, sealing their promise and officially renewing their friendship.

"Good! Okay now, back to business" Tina's shift from playful to serious face made Mercedes chuckle. "Now, you said, and I quote, that you "made love" to Sam. Not sex or a residual emotion romp in the sack, but made love! Do you still love him?"

"Yes! That's what's killing me!" Mercedes furrowed her brow, frustrated at her emotions. "I mean, I was happy with Shane when Sam wasn't here! Maybe not the absolute best, but I was satisfied, you know? I was ready to move on and live my life with my new man and leave him behind. But then he comes back and makes all these promises to win me back and tells me how much he loves and misses me and…" She sighed, exhaustedly. Her eyes looked to Tina, wide and near brimming with fresh tears. "What do I do, T? I don't know what to do…."

Tina's heart broke over and over again for her. She knew what it was like to feel conflicted in love and it was painful. "Sweetie, I have to ask, how exactly do you feel about Shane? I mean, I know you still have feelings for Sam. Everyone can see that.." She watched Mercedes wince at her words. "But Shane? I never really understood how that relationship worked."

Honestly, this is really where Mercedes felt the most conflicted. On one hand, she had a strong affection for him. He was kind and honest and really did care for her. But, on the other hand, her heart never fluttered when they kissed like it did with Sam. She never felt nervous or insanely giddy around him. She chalked up her lack of response to her finally having a "mature relationship" as opposed to a "summer fling", but that explanation never did sit fully with her. "I don't know. I love him, I guess…." She resigned, shrugging her shoulders.

"Whoa, okay, let me stop you right there. You guess you love him? Love is everything but unsure, honey, and judging from that", she gestured to her face and body, "you seem pretty damn unsure."

Mercedes leaned even more heavily against the sink, sighing and slouching in defeat.

"Look, feelings are difficult to decipher sometimes, Mercy. Maybe if we discuss why you chose Shane in the first place, we can better place your feelings about him." Tina was always insightful and discerning, especially on matters of the heart. She already knew that Shane was just a placeholder for Sam in Mercedes' heart. But, she recognized that her friend needed to figure it out on her own. So, she would do everything she could as her friend to help her realize who she truly needed to be with, at her own pace.

"Well…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out where to start. "I guess it was because I kinda….saw myself in him, you know?" Tina shook her head, but urged her to further explain. "I mean, the need to be wanted. Before Sam, there weren't a lot of men pummeling down my door wanting to ask me out. I tried to shrug it off like it didn't affect me, but it hurts knowing you're not wanted." Tina was ready to protest, but Mercedes held up her hand. "I don't mean _at all_. I knew I had great friends and a wonderful family that loved me to death. And I have no problem loving myself. But…it's nice to be recognized as someone somebody can love _romantically_. I wanted the fairy tale, as crazy as that sounds." Mercedes admitted, embarrassed.

"It's not crazy, Mercy" Tina reassured genuinely. "I think everyone wants it, really. Some people are just too afraid of the disappointment of not achieving it to admit it. Or too jaded by the heartbreak of their own romantic realities"

"And the one time it did happen for me, _truly genuinely _happened" she looked past Tina solemnly, with a faraway look in her eyes. "It was ripped away from me. And I was left wondering if it was ever even real." She chuckled mirthlessly in her throat. "We gave each other everything, so much that I thought we would lose ourselves in each other, but when he left, I felt like I _gained _somehow. Like I was more of myself with him, you know? Even though he was gone, a part of him would always be with me"

Tina knew exactly, and nodded. She felt the same with Mike, complete by herself but somehow _more_ when she was with him. She was better for even knowing him.

"But, it didn't help the empty feeling I felt. I still wanted to feel wanted and…"

"That's where Shane came in." Tina finished.

"Yeah. He wasn't the most attractive or romantic, but he cared about me. He didn't have a line of girls chasing after him, even though he was the star quarterback. And it was comforting to know that, in a way. It made me feel safe being with him, knowing that someone else wouldn't come to take him from me."

"But, Sam wasn't taken from you by another girl…" Tina included.

"No, Kentucky took him." Mercedes replied. "Still hurt like an affair, though. It felt like he had chosen there over me. I know it's stupid, but that's how I felt." She looked at Tina, and saw that her face was concerned, not judgmental, so she kept going. "Shane would always be here, his life was set in stone and predictable. He would go to Ohio State, become a major football star, and marry me. We would have our 2.5 kids and picket fence and live comfortably ever after. His life was written and unchanging. I wanted something solid, and Shane….Shane was that guy. It wasn't a fairytale, but it was enough." Mercedes shrugged, uncaring. Her twiddling thumbs were suddenly more interesting to watch as she waited for Tina's reaction.

She heard Tina sigh heavily and watched her tiredly rub her eyes. Tina absorbed everything Mercedes said and didn't know what to address first. She figured she'd start with the most immediate and work her way down. "Okay, first of all, if anyone deserves a happily ever after, it's definitely you. I never ever want to hear that you settled on anything less than absolute perfection. You're freaking Mercedes Jones! Diva Extraordinaire with a voice as kickass as any of the greats out there today! You don't follow trends, you set them! And, you most _certainly _don't settle for anything less than fabulous." Mercedes laughed incredulously. Tina made her sound like she had already won five grammys and was on her way to the sixth! But, it warmed her heart to know that Tina thought of her this way.

"It's true, Mercy! You will get everything your heart desires and more, I just know it. Everything you want is right around the corner, waiting for you. Just don't settle for "almost" on your way to it."

God, this woman and her words! Mercedes looked at Tina in awe. "Wow, T. That was really deep!"

"Thanks! I watch Oprah and Dr. Phil so much, I'm practically a trained psychologist and motivational speaker." Tina smirked. Tina suddenly reached out her hands and Mercedes looked at them curiously before she realized she was supposed to grab them. They clasped hands, stepping a bit closer and facing one another.

"Okay, time for a little romantic Tina-vention! Now, close your…"

"Tina-vention?" Mercedes arched her brow, smirking mockingly.

"Yes. I actually plan on patenting the phrase…. now stop deflecting!" Tina jokingly chided. "Now, take a deep breath and close your eyes." She smiled when Mercedes followed her directions without further argument. "Great. Now I want you to clear everything from your mind, any residual guilt or confusion. Don't dwell on those things. Your mind is clear and you have an emotional clean slate, ok?"

"Yes, Dr. Chang" Mercedes teased, eyes still closed. She followed her instructions and felt lighter and peaceful, her mind clear of everything that was stressing her.

"Ok. Now, picture Shane and only Shane. Experience every emotion you feel when you think of him. Picture the future you see with him and how it makes you feel." Tina instructed, watching Mercedes' every facial expression.

When she thought of Shane, all she could feel was sadness and resentment. She saw flashes of their future together, of her being Mrs. Tinsley and sitting on the sidelines at games in the "Football Wives" section of the bleachers, her giving up her dreams of recording her own music to be a stay at home wife, existing only to cook and clean for him, and finally of her weathered and stressed, being at home with a house full of little Tinsleys while her husband went to yet another after party, leaving her alone. All she could hear were arguments about infidelity and unfulfilled dreams in their future. It made her instantly miserable.

Tina saw the pained look on her face and decided it was a good time to move on. "Okay, girl, clear your mind again. Everything you just felt and saw is gone. Now, I want you to picture Sam and only Sam. Experience everything you feel when you think of him. Picture your future with Sam and everything that means."

Mercedes sighed and focused solely on thoughts of Sam. Immediately, she felt warmth and joy envelop her. Sam felt like sunlight and summer rain and soft music. An instant smile lit up her face as she thought of their future, long afternoons by the lake, winter nights cuddled in the couch watching Avatar, soft caresses and whispered devotions of love and affection. She saw him standing by the sink, smiling, as he proudly gives their infant daughter her first bath. She felt his strong arms envelop her, rubbing her back soothingly as they watched their son off to his first day of school. His little eyes were brown and bright like hers, with an endearing crooked grin so affectionately Sam's and a warm golden tone of skin, a mixture of their own. Grammys, Tonys, Nobels, and Pulitzers were scattered across their shelves, speaking volumes of their individual successes. And she saw her Sam, older and grey, reaching out his wrinkled hand to her, asking her to dance. They moved slower, and their looks had changed over time, but their eyes still shone for one another, love unchanging.

"Merc? Mercy, Honey? You okay?"

Mercedes opened her eyes slowly, looking slightly confused at Tina and their surroundings. She was so caught up in the vision, she had forgotten it wasn't real. Her and Sam, they weren't really together. She wiped the stray tears from her cheeks and shook her head, trying to refocus and bring herself back to the present.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just….got lost for a second there…." She spoke gently. Tina pulled her into a hug as more silent tears came.

"I know, honey" said Tina, gently, as she rubbed her back. "I know" She didn't have to say a word. Tina already knew that, in that moment, Mercedes' heart had finally found clarity.

Three loud, successive knocks on the bathroom door ripped through their pensive silence.

"Hey!" screamed the outside voice, "you do realize this is a public restroom, right? Not just for your own personal fucking use!"

"Bitch, go pee in a bush, we're having an emotional crisis in here!" Tina screamed back scathingly. She squeezed Mercedes gently then let her go, analyzing her face to be sure she had recovered.

"I better get going anyway, T", Mercedes mused begrudgingly, "Tonight is Friday night after all."

"Oh right. Family date night, I forgot." Tina nodded in recollection. Two weeks after her and Shane started dating, he would take her to meet and eat with his family every Friday night. Since she was going be the future Mrs. Tinsley, he reasoned, she might as well get to know her future in laws. At first, she thought it was sweet. Now, it had just become an annoying ritual and, frankly, really boring. But, since it was so important to him and the future of their relationship, she kept going. Now, she really wondered why she had ever decided to stay with Shane.

"I'm gonna break up with him. Tonight." Mercedes declared, finality lacing every word.

Tina tried to stifle her happy grin. "Really? What brought this on all of a sudden?" She inquired, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Mercedes grinned infectiously, freeing Tina to smile back. "I saw my futures, and I've decided that I won't settle for "almost". I deserve the best, right?"

"Right" Tina agreed, happy that her friend had seen the light.

"Hello? Girl with full bladder out here!" said the outside voice, banging loudly on the door to remind them of her presence.

"You know, she could have found another bathroom by now. What, is this the only acceptable bathroom to use at Mckinley?" She mused quietly to Mercedes. Tina finally walked to the door and moved the garbage can blocking the path, allowing the blond cheerio to push through and run to the nearest stall.

"Stupid, but fast!" Tina laughed. Mercedes shook her head at her friend's antics as they left the bathroom. With a friend like her, she would never lose her way for too long.

_**Next chapter, we meet Shane's family (Thanks for the inspiration Denita585!) and Shane brings a little surprise of his own, one that may work in  his favor perhaps? I know, I'm awful. But, you'll love it! **_


	5. Chapter 5 The Dinner gone Awry

**FINALLY! I wanted to get this chapter out for the longest, and it's here and pretty darn long, if I do say so myself. It will get way more samcedes, this I solemly pinky promise, but this chapter is utterly necessary to the overall story. I do hope you enjoy it! And don't forget to review and tell me what you think! Your thoughts are inspiration! (CHAPTER DEDICATED TO DENITA585! Thanks for the review and the inspiration!)**

Sighing deeply to shake her pre-breakup nerves, Mercedes closed her eyes and shook her arms and head vigorously. The more she thought about Shane's impending heartbreak, the more she didn't want to go through with it. Sure, she knew she loved Sam, but breaking hearts didn't come naturally or easily to her. She wished that they could all walk out of this situation in smiles.

Okay, maybe smiles were a bit of a stretch….civil, perhaps? But, knowing both her men and their penchant for fighting for her affections, she prayed that they could at least come out of this situation without any injuries or broken bones.

Straightening her back and steeling her resolve, she made her way back toward study hall, almost passing by her locker and the suspiciously wrapped cylinder affixed to it.

_Almost_ being the key word.

She ran almost immediately to the curiously wrapped bundle left for her, bound in a sparkly purple mesh bag. She didn't have to wonder for more than a second who the sender had been, recognizing the tell-tale yellow rose taped to the gift with a note. She had to smile at Sam's boldness. It was one of the many things that she loved about him. Her smile widened as she fingered the soft petals delicately, realizing that a small note lay folded between them. She opened his note eagerly, missing even the thought of his voice since they hadn't spoken in a while.

_Mercy,_

_Hot tots for my "hot tottie"! I know you're smiling as you're reading this. And, really, that's all I wanted. I just wanted you to smile once more for me, like you did before it all became so complicated._

_Always yours,_

_Sam_

She clutched his note close to her heart after she read his words. She had missed their easy friendship most of all. Sure, she could talk with Shane and have no problems saying what was on her mind, but with Sam it had been effortless. She read her note from him again and shook her head amusedly at the "hot tottie" comment. They had heard the popular Usher song on the radio that summer and Sam, swearing up and down that he had "swag" for days, began to lip sync the rap lyrics in an impromptu performance for her beside the lake. The hip thrusts, body rolls, and sexy over the shoulder looks left Mercedes in a mix of intense amusement and mild arousal. She clapped and wolf whistled for him when he finished, and his smile lit her heart afire with fresh affection._ God, we were so good then_, she thought sadly.

"It doesn't have to be over, you know." She heard a deep timbre voice respond to her thought. She turned around quickly and beamed at the sight of him, casually clad in a white t-shirt and dark wash jeans. She held her hand to her chest, hoping to steady the thrumming of her heart.

"Sammy," she breathed happily. "It's you."

And Sam had to remember how to breathe, seeing her all bright and shining like that. For _him_, of all people. After the turbulent couple of weeks they've had, he was prepared to deal with an angry or disgruntled Mercedes when she'd open her gift. Maybe, he had dreaded and hoped, an emotional Mercedes, left teary eyed at the small token of affection for her because she had still loved him, but couldn't yet act openly on her feelings. But _this_ Mercedes, the one with the gleaming teeth and infectious smile, had his heart dancing and his brain void of coherent thought.

"Mercy" he breathed back, her name rolling off his tongue with a comfortable familiarity. "I gotta say, I'm relieved we could meet like this"

"What, in the hallway without my boyfriend interrupting us?" she joked.

"Well, yeah." he smirked, "and actually talk without crying or jumping each other's bones."

She laughed out loud. "Yeah, it is kinda nice. But, you weren't complaining about us all over each other before, Sam."

"I will never complain about that! Nor will I ever regret it." He stated seriously. "But, the way you're giving me the cold shoulder, I'm starting to think you might be."

"No!" she exclaimed, never wanting him to think that their time was anything but special to her. Especially now, when her heart had gained some clarity. "What we shared was…..amazing. It's always amazing. I don't regret sharing my body with you."

Sam blushed slightly at her "sharing my body" comment. His mind immediately recalled hot summer nights of frantic passion, bodies rubbing and slapping violently against each other in throes of passion. He missed making love to her. He missed being able to love her period. "Or your heart? Do you regret sharing your heart with me?"

She saw the hurt and confusion in his eyes, and felt guilty all over again for putting him through this. "Oh, Sammy. Especially not my heart. I trust you completely with it." Her hand absentmindedly went to her chest, covering the space tenderly.

He walked to her and tentatively slid his arms around her waist, eyes never parting from hers. "So, remind me again why you aren't in my arms yet?"

"I haven't broken up with him yet." she answered simply. "Besides, are you blind? Right now…." She locked her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, until their foreheads and noses touched intimately. "I am in your arms. _Fully_ in your arms." She purred. And when her teeth slid across her plump bottom lip and released it as she mouthed the f in fully, his hands skated lower and lower on her waist until they were on the curve of her backside, palming intimately. She gasped slightly when he gently squeezed her and leaned in until their lips were barely touching. "But you're not mine" He mouthed longingly against her lips. " I can't hold you in public or kiss you or say I love you whenever I want. You're not free."

She backed away a bit from his lips, trying to cool the collective burning spreading wildly across her body at his touch and words. She looked down at their closeness, unable to meet his eyes just yet. "Maybe not now. But ask me again tomorrow, Sammy. That all might change."

And when she finally looked into his eyes, she couldn't help but smile at the childlike joy on his face. His eyes were alight with giddy anticipation. "Really, Mercy? Please don't play with me. I'm a very sensitive man."

She caught his infectious joy and mirrored his smile. "You will have my answer tomorrow, Sammy." She promised, "No more waiting."

Sam was so happy, so damn giddy at her answer that he didn't even know what to do with himself. His hands wandered everywhere over her, eyes traced every detail and curve, as if it were the first time he were able to fully appreciate them. He couldn't believe in a couple of hours, she would be all his.

He kissed her cheek eagerly and rubbed noses with hers, making her giggle. "You better eat your tots before they get cold" he told her, smiling wolfishly. "I'll have plenty more for you to eat if you're hungry later." She smirked, recognizing the double meaning of his words.

"Tomorrow?" he inquired innocently, demanding confirmation from her eyes.

"Tomorrow" She confirmed, her lips lingering on his cheek in a kiss laced with promise. He closed his eyes at her touch, reveling in the feel of her, before they reluctantly separated.

Mercedes finally opened her can of tots, now lukewarm, and popped one in her mouth as she watched him walk away, whistling a nameless happy tune. Mercedes could barely contain her own joy, smiling at the thought of being in his arms again, without any guilt or shame looming over them.

_Tomorrow, it's all over_, she reminded herself. With a deep sigh of relief, she gathered her things and prepared to go home. She did have a final date with her boyfriend to get ready for.

* * *

><p>After inspecting herself in the mirror for the third time that evening, Mercedes finally concluded that she looked appropriate for family dinnerslash break up. Her dress, demure and black, was well fitted across her bust and waist and flared with a flourish over her hips, giving the hem a flowy movement when she moved. The neckline curved into a slight V, with enough cleavage showing to be sexy without being obscene. Small diamond studs gleamed on her ears and her hair fell about her shoulders in loose barrel curls, a slight fringe texturing her blunt bangs. She felt beautiful and confident and ready to speak her mind, for once. It would be painful to break up with Shane, but their time had come and gone and she needed to move forward. Most of all, she wanted him to know that she would always care for him and appreciate his measures to be a sweet boyfriend to her.

_I'm ready…_

Turning with a start to the blare of a car horn outside of her window, she rolled her eyes as she looked back at her reflection in the mirror. She _hated _when he did that. It had been a pet peeve of hers since they had started dating and had caused more than one small argument, but he never changed. Huffing indignantly, she slid on her heels and willed herself to calm down before meeting Shane downstairs. There was no place for anger tonight. Tonight was the end for them.

And though she knew the thought of breaking up with your boyfriend of seven months would be devastating to most girls-and she did feel some sadness at the thought-she couldn't help the relief she felt, nor the small hints of a smile on her face as she descended the stairs and walked out the door to meet him.

To Shane's credit, he did at least step out of his car, waiting for her. And she had to admit, he looked well dressed and handsome in his dress suit and tie. They had never dressed so formally for their dates before, but this was supposed to be his apology dinner to make up for his behavior today, so she shrugged away the weird vibe she felt about it. He beamed at her as she walked toward him.

"Hey baby," he crooned, leaning in for a kiss "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

At the last second, Mercedes moved her head to the side, making his lips meet her cheek. She inwardly cringed at her unusual behavior. She always let him kiss her on the lips before, but she couldn't let him kiss her now with an easy conscience. She hoped he didn't notice the thoughtless move.

"Baby, you still mad?" he asked curiously. _Damn, he noticed.._

"No!" she squeaked urgently "I just..It was…nothing. Can we just go?"

"Sure, yeah. Let me just…let me get the door for you." He eyed her curiously as he opened the door and helped her in. He felt the change in her, but couldn't identify what it was exactly. He wasn't any expert on women, but he knew enough to know when something was off. He hoped that their evening tonight and his special gift for her later would change her mood.

The ride was tensely silent as they drove. Shane, feeling obligated to say something since he felt responsible, was the first to break the silence. "You know, I meant what I said. You know, about you being the most beautiful woman I ever met. You truly are, Mercedes."

She looked away from the window and up at him when he said her name. He had only said her full name when the moment turned serious and, seeing the apologetic look on his face, Mercedes felt slightly terrible. He probably thought she was still angry about their argument today when, really, she was simply anxious about the potential argument they would have later. She gave him a small smile to allay his fears. "Thank you." She responded kindly and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. Even if they weren't in love, Mercedes still had a small affection for the man sitting next to her. She wanted him to know that what they had, the time they had, had been real. Hopefully, they could break up amicably and remain good friends.

He kissed the hand joined in his, feeling more assured. _Just wait until she sees what I have in store for her tonight, _he thought happily to himself, _then the deal will be officially sealed and I'll have her always._

She felt the truck stop and the engine turn off as they reached their destination. Lost in her thoughts of finding the appropriate break up words, she didn't realize that they had arrived. She glanced out the window confused, seeing an elegant and terribly expensive looking Italian restaurant instead of their usual spot.

"Shane, what's all this? I thought we were going to your parents' house for dinner like we usually do."

"Baby, do you think I would take you, looking as good as you look, to some trifling little sit down dinner at my house? Besides, I did say that I wanted to make it up to you, for my behavior earlier, and try to be a better boyfriend. I really want forever for us."

"Shane," she halted him, hoping to stop his train of thought, "about forever….we really need to talk about that.."

"You read my mind, baby" He grinned, kissing her cheek. "But, after dinner with the folks, okay? I don't wanna ruin the evening I had planned." The weird vibe she felt earlier returned at his words, but she pushed them away as nerves and nodded, smiling falsely at him. They could have a great final date, at the very least. _He deserved that much_, she figured.

Walking through the elaborate golden double doors of the restaurant, she gasped at the sight of the interior. The floors were covered in a lush burgundy carpeting, reminding Mercedes of the red carpet rolled out for movie stars and Hollywood's elite. A large, polished chandelier hung in the center of the cream-colored ceiling, lined with tiny pointed crystals that twinkled under the light. There were only about ten round tables inside the entire place, large and dark wood with intricate carvings lining each foot. The tablecloths, as cream as the walls, were decorated with a vase of lush dark red roses, bountifully draped into a spherical bouquet. Soft classical music from live violins played in the background and the sound of champagne bottles being opened and poured flittered between the idle conversation of the seated patrons. Everything about this place screamed wealth.

"Wow" Mercedes enchantingly whispered, in awe at the beauty of it all.

"I hoped you would like it." Shane bent down and whispered in her ear "Only the best for the future Mrs. Tinsley. Welcome to our life."

Again, that uneasy feeling gnawed at her stomach, but she faked smiled her way through it. He was not going to make this easy for her, was he?

They walked up, hand in hand, to the Maitre'd, a spiny, near balding man, looking to be in his late 50's. He wore round, wire frame glasses and a stare as pretentious as his crisp-lapelled suit. He looked on suspiciously at the young couple. "May I help you?" he asked, in a slightly nasal drawl.

"Table for the Tinsleys, my good man. My family should already be seated."

The maitre'd quirked an eyebrow in recognition of the name, then uncharacteristically smiled and reached out to shake Shane's hand. "Ah yes! Tinsley's boy! A great pleasure to be serving you today, sir." Looking beside him to a quiet and uncomfortable Mercedes, he continued, "And this must be the special lady I've heard so much about from your father. Isn't she lovely! A pleasure, Madam."

Realizing that both men were acknowledging her, she plastered on a quick smile and offered her hand. "A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr…."

"Please, Madam." He tutted with his hand, dismissing any formalities. "Please, call me Richard. Any Tinsley is considered like family to me."

Her eyes widened at the error. "Oh, I'm not…."

"She's my girlfriend, Richard" Shane finished. "But, I'm definitely keeping her close. She has Tinsley material written all over her."

The more he said that, the more Mercedes fidgeted in discomfort. When did it get so serious all of a sudden? "Shane…." She warned, tugging his arm slightly, "you're family's probably waiting for us to arrive so we can start the evening." Anything to change the subject…..

"Yeah, of course baby" he acknowledged. "We have a _very_ special evening planned." Mercedes closed her eyes and willed her stomach to settle down, missing the inconspicuous wink Shane threw at Richard.

Richard's eyes brightened at the obvious news. He was always a sucker for love and grand romantic gestures. "Oh my, well let's not stall it any longer! Shall we?" He gestured forward towards their table, two extra menus in hand. They spotted Shane's family at the corner table near the window, comfortably chatting and laughing. Mercedes did feel a little relief seeing them all, knowing that she wouldn't be around Shane alone for too long. It allowed her to prolong the inevitable breakup just a little longer. She really hated emotional conversations about relationships, since she never quite knew what to say.

Shane's family was an interesting and eventful bunch. His dad, Reginald, was as tall and solid as Shane, with a shiny, clean dome to match. They even had matching mustaches. But, his dad's face was more angular that round and had a few more wrinkles and laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. He also loved to laugh and smile, far more than Shane ever did. His laugh was loud and hearty and warm, bellowing from his belly with a jolly quake. His mother, Patrice, was a sharp contrast to him. Where Shane's father was hearty and joyful, his mother was petite and serious. She was small in frame, probably a size four, and looked as if she used to cheerlead, since she had such well-defined calves and arms and she was so obviously beautiful. Her approach to everything was no nonsense, from her A-line skirts to her meticulous art of table-setting. But, she was never mean. Serious, yes, but never vicious. She sat dutifully next to her husband, side-eying his terrible joke and raucous laughter while simultaneously wiping the breadcrumbs from his mouth.

Mercedes eyes panned to the tight knit trio of Tinsley brothers, listening intently to another of their father's many stories. All of Shane's brothers were tall, fit and rather handsome, with angular chins and pristine white smiles. That, however, is where the similarities ended. The oldest, Thomas, was a warm caramel complexion like his mother, with a short Caesar cut and charismatic smile. He looked like he could be on the cover of any magazine that he wanted, but his passion for football and need for aggression had deterred him from anything like that. Plus, he was a "manly man" by self-description and hated being seen doing anything remotely female. And by remotely female, he meant anything that didn't involve football and getting girls.

Reggie Junior, the second eldest, was more sensitive and a romantic, with a darker mocha complexion and shyer disposition. He kept mostly to himself and said very little. He only really showed his passion when the subject of football was brought up. That, and his fiancée' and expected newborn, due in the spring. Shawn, the third child, had a rounder baby face. He was the palest complexion of all his family, with light brown freckles and grey eyes. His brothers always joked that he was adopted, but his mother assured him he looked like his grandmother and was very much part of this family. He was always so eager to please his father and was the most competitive, earning more football accolades than any of his brothers and an honored spot as the apple of his father's eye. Naturally, he laughed the loudest after his father finished his well-told tale.

Conversing to themselves in their own little group were the trio of fiancées, the girls Mercedes had officially titled "The Debbies." She was pretty sure only one in the group was _actually _named Debbie, but the girls were so damn much alike that it became unimportant to call them by their appropriate names. To her, they were a clique of popular high school girls all grown up, still dressing the same and vying to keep their place in their inherent circle. Debbie #1, Thomas's girl, was Italian and feisty, long black hair and a petite in frame with a nasally voice and whiny laugh. She was an average beauty, someone Thomas probably wouldn't have looked at twice, but she had in manipulation and persistence what she lacked in looks. She had clawed her way to Thomas's heart (and wallet) and beat out all the others for her place as Mrs. Tinsley and head trophy wife. She sported her engagement ring as soon as they entered their fourth month of dating and married soon after. Debbie #2, Reggie's girl, was the most beautiful of all of them and the vainest. With her African American and Cherokee descent, she sported a striking combination of dark olive skin and curly jet black hair. Everything about her appeared flawless and kept, and she was acutely aware of all of it. Even in her seventh month, this Debbie sported 5-inch stiletto heels with nary a flinch of pain or miss in step, always keen on looking as fabulous as she knew she was. Debbie #3, the blond, was Shawn's girl. She had a bright, cheery disposition and a love of talking. Not conversation, just talking. Once another person starts responding, she's quick to become disinterested. She had an adorable laugh and thick southern accent that made Shawn swoon. They were the most newly married and still in their "Honeymoon Stage". When she wasn't with her fellow debbies, she could most certainly be found somewhere on or near her husband's lap, feeding him or sneaking kisses between conversation, like they were doing right now.

Mercedes was surprised to see the whole Tinsley crew here for what she thought was an intimate evening. They were all as impeccably dressed as Shane was, which made that tell-tale weird feeling wash over her with fierceness. _Something's most definitely up. Something serious._

Finally, tired of silently wondering, she voiced her concern. "Shane, what is all this? This feels like way more than an apology dinner. It feels…more important."

"You could say that." He answered cryptically, but he chose not to elaborate. His father was the first to greet them, stopping his endless run of stories to grin at the couple.

"Shane, my boy! We were just talking about you both! Had us waiting here for nearly twenty minutes starving! Hurry up and seat the lady so we can eat, would you?" he laughed heartily.

His gaze affixed on Mercedes as she finally sat in her chair. "Mercedes, my dear," he kissed her hand, sandwiching it between his larger ones, "You look absolutely lovely. Gorgeous, even."

"Thank you, Mr. Tinsley" She beamed. His warmth put her instantly at ease.

"Now, what did I tell you about that Mr. Tinsley stuff, huh? I ain't that old!" He scoffed jokingly.

"It's _isn't,_ dear." Mrs. Tinsley corrected. "And she was just trying to be polite. Isn't that right dear?" She glanced at Mercedes.

Mr. Tinsley waved his wife's comment off with his hand. "Nonsense! No need to be polite among family! I'm Dad to you now, you hear? I won't answer to anything else."

"Yes, Mr.." She giggled when Mr. Tinsley scoffed and turned his head away. "I mean, yes _dad_" she emphasized, and he turned to her, beaming.

"See, now that's better! Family ain't got no pleasantries! Soon, she'll be burping and farting like the rest of us without a second thought!" he laughed.

"REGINALD!" screeched his wife, making him laugh even harder. "That is not talk for the dinner table! Shane, Mercedes, I apologize on behalf of my _better half_. Seems two glasses of champagne before dinner was not such a great idea." She bit, scathingly.

"Relax, Woman! This is a time of celebration! After all, Shane..."

"Dad!" Shane stopped him, fearing he would say too much. "Not the time. Let's just order dinner."

He turned to Mercedes. "Sorry, baby" he whispered. "Sometimes, Pops doesn't know how to turn it off."

She shrugged, uncaring. "Your dad's fine. He's….honest" She replied, guiltily. "I can respect that."

"Yeah, Dad's the best. He tells the best stories too! Don't you pop?" asked Shawn, watching his father eagerly.

"That I do, my boy! Best tales this side of Lima, If I can say so!"

"No, you can't say so, Dad." Said Thomas. "We only put up with 'me because you still hold our trust fund in your hands…"

"Damn, Thomas. Really? I like Pops stories! Especially about his glory days! Tell us another one, Pop!" urged Shawn.

"Such a kiss ass" muttered Reggie.

"Language!" scolded Mrs. Tinsley. "Besides, too much conversation is bad for digestion. Let's decide what we want to eat. Girls, what will you have?"

"Apple Pecan Salad." The Debbies replied collectively. Mercedes winced at their creepiness. If she had married Shane, would _that _have been her fate? She shuddered at the thought.

"Baby, you cold?" asked Shane, offering his jacket. "No, I'm okay. Just a sudden chill, it will pass." She rubbed her shoulders, willing them to still. _Just get through dinner_, she told herself, _and then you can sit with him alone, tell him everything, and end it without embarrassing him in front of his family._

After food was ordered and idle conversation passed, the group settled down into an easy near silence before dessert. Mercedes noticed the change and looked up from her plate, noticing all eyes had suddenly fallen on her.

"Um, I don't have food on my face, do I?" wondered Mercedes, quickly around her mouth with her napkin.

"No, my dear, not at all! It's just…well…we're excited for you!" Mrs. Tinsley smiled. Everyone at the table smiled and looked at her, and Mercedes suddenly felt like she was a part of some bizarre scene from The Twilight Zone.

"Excited?" She asked nervously, "Excited for what?" Her eyes scanned the faces at the table, looking for someone to answer her.

"For this, baby" Shane replied beside her, holding out a small velvet box.

"Shane, what the hell is that?" Mercedes exclaimed, in sudden panic. She felt that weird vibe again, and it all suddenly made sense. Her female instinct was trying to tell her, but her mind was so clouded she couldn't really listen to it. She wanted to run, very far and fucking fast, but her legs were deadweight under her. She froze, glued to her seat when Shane backed out his chair and kneeled beside her, grabbing her hand.

"Baby, I know it's been a long time coming, but I wanted to ask you if you would do me the honor—after graduation, of course—of being my wife. We've talked about it so much, and I know we agreed on waiting until later, but when you meet the one, you just know, right? And I couldn't make the mistake of waiting around and letting some other guy snatch you up. I want you on my arm and in my life, forever. Will you marry me?" He opened the box, revealing the large diamond in platinum setting, and looked at her hopefully.

Damn, near everyone around the table looked on at her, eagerly anticipating her answer. _Marriage?...We talked about it when?...the one! Since when am I the one? Sam's my one, not…..oh damn, I was gonna break it off tonight…I wanted to wait until we were alone…..oh shit, marriage!_

Undeterred by her silence and gaping shock, he took the ring from the box and slid it on the appropriate finger. "You don't have to say yes now, baby. Just, let it sink in a minute. I can wait forever if you need me to." She stared at the ring in utter disbelief.

So overwhelmed by the proposal and the anxiety building throughout the night, she did what any logical thinking 17 year old girl would do when faced with a marriage proposal from her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend in front of his family.

She ran, clear and fast out the door, not daring to look back.


	6. Chapter 6 Running Home

**Another longer update! I spent a lil' while on this chapter, since my well of inspiration was unusually dry and empty these past couple of days. Could it be because of the sudden and heartbreaking samcedes angst I suffered through this past tuesday? Perhaps. But it was a brief and necessary pain. Shane is out of the picture, Mercedes is healing, and Sam is still ready and waiting to love her. Plus, I know in my heart of hearts that they are endgame, so no worries. :kanyeshrug: **

**I personally am not too pleased with this chapter. I am aware, however, that I am a perfectionist to a fault, so my judgment is probably invalid.**

**I do hope you enjoy, my lovelies! And please share your words with me! Reviews have become strangely addicting now...lol **

The whooshing sounds of her panting as she ran only served to punctuate the gasps of her heavy sobs. She couldn't believe how quickly things had spun out of control, unraveled in her hands, without her say. She had never felt so powerless before, sitting in that restaurant having all eyes on her as Shane asked for her hand. In his proposal, in his hands, her life was so finite and written, and all she had to do was say yes and he would whisk her off into some life that he dreamed up for them.

How dare he? How dare he even think that she, Mercedes Jones, of all people would go along with anything like that?

She wanted so badly to pull off her ring, throw it in his face, and break up with him in an angry haste. It was a far cry from the gentle letdown she had planned, but the intense rage and fear she felt as she watched him put it on her finger warranted an irrational outburst.

But, the ring wouldn't come _off. _

She realized it before she ran out of the restaurant. She had hastily tugged with all of her might, wanting to get rid of the shiny bauble and its frightening reminder of what just happened, but it stubbornly stayed put, refusing to budge even the slightest bit.

"Miss Jones?" she heard the nasal drawl of a voice question behind her. She turned wildly to him, wide eyed and breathing erratically. Upon seeing the shiny new addition to her left hand, the nosy maitre'd gasped and clapped happily.

"Oh my ,I knew it! I saw the look on his face and knew it was love! How was it? What did he say? I need details, dear!" He urged fervently. He relished a good proposal story. Almost as much as hot gossip.

Mercedes heard him ask her something, judging by the inflection in his voice, but every noise around her sounded like a dull roar. All she heard was the rapid thumping of her heart beating loudly in her ears. Her mouth gaped, wanting to say something as he looked at her expectantly, but her brain couldn't process or form words. It was still too much for her to be in here.

Seeing the large figure of a man coming toward her from her peripheral, Mercedes feared the worst and turned to walk briskly to the door, ready to sprint again.

"Mercedes! Wait!" She heard the figure call after her. Her steps quickened.

The maitre'd, disappointed in her lack of response, ran even quicker. "Darling, your fiancee's calling for you! Why are you running away?" He reached for her arm, trying to still her.

"I'm not…he's not….it wasn't suppose to end like this. I never wanted it. I never did" she shook her head, finally able to let the travesty of the past five minutes sink in a bit.

"Darling, are you alright? You look positively ill!" To his credit, Richard did look genuinely concerned. "Didn't want what, dear? What wasn't suppose to end?"

But the sound of footsteps moving steadily closer to them spiked her adrenaline again. She pulled away from his grasp and had the door open before she could think about it.

"I'm sorry, I'm just…so sorry" she cried, more to herself than to him, before running through the large golden doors. She had left and turned the corner like a sudden wind, before the inquisitive older man had a chance to pry further.

And now, as she made her away across the street to her unknown destination, she tugged her accursed finger for the millionth time, realizing with disdain that her finger was now purple and swollen. He wanted to marry her, spend the rest of his _life _with her, and he didn't even know something as simple as her ring size. He was ready to make her his wife with a ring two sizes too small.

_Sam knows I'm a seven, and we only officially dated for a month…._

And when her feet came to a sudden stop in front of a familiar home that was not her own, she realized that her heart had lead her where it always leads her. Thankfully, her mind was too preoccupied to stop it from taking her where she needed to be.

_Right in his arms_.

She knocked with a panicked force, hoping that he would be there and answer the door. She needed him now more than anything.

And seeing his face light up the Hudson-Hummel doorway with a soft half smile allowed Mercedes to release a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Mercedes?" He hoarsely uttered. He had obviously just woken up from a deep sleep, clad in only pajama bottoms and a bare chest. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and greeted her with a warm smile.

"My, My, My. Aren't you the prettiest dream I've ever had. If you were any more lovely, I may just never wake up." he told her, a slight hint of southern twang laced in his words. He would always let his accent go when he was in comfortable company.

Like now, in the presence of the love of his life.

But, noting her red eyes and tear stained face, his warm smile immediately turned to worry and fear.

"Baby, what's wrong? You alright?" She shook heavily now, bowing her head to hold in her sobs. She was so tired of crying in front of him. So tired of crying, _period._ But, her emotions were still so raw from the proposal. Coupled with the exhaustion of running, she didn't have the energy to even try to hide her tears. They spilled freely in front of him, flooding her cheeks at the sound of his voice.

Fearing the worst, he tentatively reached out and scooped up her chin with his hand, trying to meet her eyes.

"Mercy?" Hearing no response from her and missing her eyes, he cupped her entire face in his hands and stepped outside of the doorframe to meet her. His thumbs gently swept the tears from her cheeks as they fell.

"Mercedes, you're scaring me. Did something happen? Is…is everyone alright? You know, your family?"

She looked up at him then, meeting his concerned gaze. She didn't want to alarm him, not unnecessarily. She just didn't quite know what to say yet, how to approach him with such a confusing and bizarre situation.

Still not finding the words, she shook her head silently, watching him intently as more tears streamed down her face. He was such a beautiful man, inside and out, and she had his whole heart. Sometimes, she felt so undeserving. He had hers and had treated it with the utmost care and affection. Mercedes choked back another heaving sob, realizing she had not held up her end. Maybe the responsibility of love was too much for her to handle. She might have already mishandled one heart tonight…..

Sam seemed to read her eyes, gathering her every thought. His expression changed from concern and confusion to realization and sympathy.

"It was tonight, wasn't it? Your meeting with Shane?" He asked quietly. But, the way he asked, it sounded more like a statement than a question.

And at the mention of Shane's name, Mercedes's dam broke. She flew into his arms and wrapped him in a desperate hug. She felt so terrible about everything and finally found the security she needed, the assurance that she could cry without explanation or judgment, in the warmth of his chest. The feeling of his hard strength against her cheek spun her world on its axis once again. Things were uncomplicated here, in his arms.

Finally getting over his shock, he wrapped her up and pressed her to him just as tightly, refusing to let go even the slightest bit. The sudden chill of a sudden fall wind hit his bare skin, but he stood unflinching for Mercedes.

The breakup had obviously taken its toll on her sensitive heart and he sympathized with her. In the weeks he waited for her, he came to accept the fact that there were feelings between her and Shane, feelings that he would never truly understand, but were there nonetheless. Whether its love or not, feelings are always difficult to dismiss, especially in a relationship. He knew firsthand and vowed to be there for her as she got over her ex. He was her friend, first and foremost.

"Mercy, I'm so sorry. I know tonight must have been hard for you. Breaking hearts is never easy." He softly rubbed her back in soothing circles. " I promise it will hurt less as the days go by. And, I'll be here, waiting until you're ready to pick up where we left off, okay? No pressure."

"No, Sam. You don't understand," she sniffled, backing out of his arms to gaze at his face. " I didn't do it. I couldn't."

His face crumbled at her confession. He had never felt such a burning pain in his chest before, but her words made him wonder if what he was feeling now was anywhere close to a stroke. He felt his body grow cold and his heart slow.

"You…you couldn't?" he choked out. "But, at school, in the hallway you said…I thought that you were gonna break up with him. That was the plan, remember? I thought by tomorrow, you would be…you would be free to be mine." The tightening in his chest intensified.

"I know, Sam! I was ready and set on breaking up with him after dinner! I mean, I had prepared myself and finally gotten all the words ready, planned how I was gonna do it, I even prepared myself for his tears…." Her speech became erratic and urgent, punctuated by her wide, teary eyes. "then, all of a sudden he was down on one knee, proposing marriage!" She exclaimed incredulously. "To me, Sam. There I was, fully ready to leave him so I could move on with my life and love you without looking over my shoulder or feeling guilty and he pulls this out and shoves it on my finger!"

His breath caught at the sight of the large diamond decorating her ring finger, sparking mockingly at him. It was so….huge! And it was on her finger and, crap, everything just became real. He wasn't dreaming this, no matter how much he wanted to be.

"Married? He proposed to you?" he gasped incredulously. It hurt to breathe. The more he heard, the tighter his chest felt. As soon as he saw the ring, he'd realized he lost. He couldn't believe how stupid he was, thinking his love could compete with the security of Shane's money. And that she would leave a sure future for him, a broke and desperate Casanova with a lone guitar and hopeless dreams. Sometimes, love just wasn't enough, and he cursed himself for believing it would be different with her.

"With a ring two damn sizes too small and a rock bigger than my face!" She continued. "I mean, what was I suppose to do, to _say_ to that?" Her sobs were now reduced to sniffles, anger prevailing over her previous sadness. She wiped her tears angrily, resentment growing by the second. "I mean, what the hell was I suppose to say, huh?"

If he had heard her, he would know that Mercedes was venting , not confessing. But, all Sam could hear were "Wedding" and "ring" and "Marriage" ringing about his ears like church bells.

"Exactly, what were you suppose to say to that?" he said flatly, hot tears brimming his eyes.

She turned away from him, arguing with a nameless force in the distance. "I mean, what seventeen year old is ready for that? I knew he felt _something _for me..love,maybe, but I had no idea it was this strong!"

"So, you did what any girl would do, faced with a large rock and a winning jock head over heels for you, ready to whisk you off….." he mocked. Tears, once brimming, now flowed in pairs down his reddened face.

"Exactly!" she cried angrily to the darkness, still facing away from Sam. She was pissed now. "Naturally, I turned to his sorry behind….."

"…..looked into his pleading eyes….." he mused, sadly filling in the blanks of their fairy tale proposal.

"….and scared out of my mind…."

"…saw everything he was able to offer you…."

"…and so overwhelmed…."

"…naturally…."

"…..naturally…."

" You said yes." He finished.

" I ran the hell out of there!" she spat. Ending her rant, she finally processed everything Sam had said and turned quickly to him. "What? Wait, Sam, that's not what I meant…"

"I get it, Mercy. Please don't say anymore. I don't think my heart could take it. Two weeks of abuse is a lot to take, you know. I don't think I could handle anymore" he chuckled mirthlessly.

"No…Sammy.." she pleaded softly, walking toward him "I didn't say…"

"You didn't have to _say, _Mercedes! I got the message loud and clear! It's practically yelling at me from your left hand!" he was the erratic one now, outright sobbing at the sight of the ring.

"But I didn't! I couldn't, Sammy!" she winced. Mercedes mentally cursed the stupid ring and all the problems it brought her.

"You couldn't what, let me down? Didn't know how to break it to me? So you tell me that you love me, but we can't be together because I'm some broke white boy from Tennessee who was a fool to think I was anywhere remotely in your league?" Ever doubt and fear came out in his passionate rant, every negative word ever spoken about their relationship turned secret fear of his own. "God, I'm such an idiot! Believing in true love and the one and fighting because no one, absolutely no _one, _could tell me that you weren't it for me. I thought what we had….I thought it was enough." He stared directly at her, needing her to feel something, _anything,_ to lessen the pain in his own heart. She needed to know how much it was killing him.

"Sammy, those things NEVER meant anything to me! And you know you're my heart, baby, my whole heart! I would never look down at you because of something as trivial as money, you know that!" She cried, pleading her case. She reached for him, but he flinched and stepped out of her reach.

"Yeah? Then why the hell else would you agree to marry him?" He gasped heavily, trying to get his breathing under control. He had to feel it. All of it. If he didn't, he knew he would bottle it up until it destroyed him.

And he'll be damned if she told him it wasn't all real. He knew love, what it was and wasn't, and what they had was true and in its purest form.

"Sam" she closed her eyes, pleading softly. She was so weary, so very emotionally drained, and her anger dissipated into lethargy. " _Please _let me explain! This ring is just.."

"Nothing. Nothing but cold metal and hard rock. But, that seems to be enough for girls nowadays, right? Security, with a little comfortable companionship thrown in! Who cares about feelings and passion and giving your body and soul to someone, right? Who appreciates that?" He yelled to the heavens. "When the hell will _that _be enough? Tell me!"

She looked on at him, at _them_, shocked. When in the hell did they get here? One minute, she was secure in his arms and the next they were fighting about an engagement that never happened with a man they both knew she could never love. It was her time to set it right.

"I didn't say yes, Sam."

A quiet moment fell over them, a brief but poignant moment of realization and utter embarrassment. After all his ranting, her simple words had rendered him speechless.

She walked toward him, lightly touching his shoulder. "You didn't give me a chance to explain. He slid the ring on my hand before I could say anything and I ran out _before _I could give him an answer."

He turned to face her, but silence still prevailed between them. His face grew warm again, tinged pink from the mix of relief and shame. Words finally found him.

"So you….you never said yes to Shane?" he wondered, perplexed. He turned to her, eyes hopeful. "So we….there's still an us? We still have a chance to be? I still have a chance.." he realized, ducking his head. "I assumed the absolute worst. God, I thought I lost you again….." His chest was damp and slick from tears and he felt his fresh ones create new trails on his flesh.

"Baby, please _please _look at me and listen to every word I say, okay?" she laced her fingers with his, squeezing lightly so he would look up and meet her eyes. When she found them, she breathed and continued. "I never, ever want to hear you say or even think to say that you are not enough for me. I am a so much better me after meeting you. You are more than I could have ever hoped or dreamed for and I am blessed to have you in my life." Seeing his answering half smile, she felt encouraged to continue. "Richer or Poorer, babe, you're stuck with me. I'm in if you're in. Well, even the times when I annoy you to no end and you might not _want _to bein, I'll still be there" she half-joked with a half smile of her own.

"After tonight, hell no! You're stuck with me too!" he joked. They both fully smiled at that, relieved that the air had been cleared. "But honestly, sometimes…..I don't know I'm afraid that you might want to find someone else…..someone easier to be with…"

"Easier than you?" She teased.

"Yeah, someone like Shane. I mean, people won't look at you differently if you walk down the halls with him. They expect you to marry him and have a fabulous life together. Not with…well, me. It would crush me to have you wake up one day, look at the life we've built for ourselves, and have buyer's remorse. " he shrugged, feeling suddenly small and insecure.

"Baby, when was there ever a day where I cared more about what people thought than how I felt about you? Even when I was with Shane, I couldn't seem to get you fully out of my system. You may be my greatest weakness, Sam Evans." She confessed, bringing a ghost of a smile back to his face. "Besides, you're way more than enough for me, I promise. I couldn't walk straight for two days after because of how _enough _you were." She teased, smirking.

His loud guffaw and broad smile made it all worth it. "Really? I'm just a sex toy now? Is that all I'm good for?"

"No, you're definitely good at other things"

"Like?"

"What, you want me to list them all now?"

His eyes were alight with humor now, looking deeply into her eyes. He brought her closer until their noses touched in an eskimo kiss. "Yes, if you don't mind."

"Hmm, let's see…" She teasingly caressed her chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

"You have to think about it?"

She looked pointedly at him then, her voice laced with meaning. "I never have to think too hard, Sam. I love the way you smile. I love your laugh. I love the way your nose wrinkles when you're extremely happy and how you purse and bite your lips when you cry."

"I do not!" he exclaimed, smiling down at her brown eyes.

"You _so_ do!" Mercedes teased, wiggling her rounded nose against the soft point of his. "But I adore it. And, I'll have you know that, in my opinion, you are the wealthiest man I've ever met."

"Really? Do tell!" He urged eagerly. He couldn't wait to hear her reasoning behind that.

Her face grew serious as she pulled his hand up and held it over her heart. "Samuel Evans, I gave you the most precious thing I own that summer. Something I can never, ever get back."

His eyes dipped low to caress each curve of her body, outlining its smooth contours and delicious peaks. He leered for a minute before looking up at her again, eyebrow arched amusedly.

"I meant my heart, Sam! You nasty boy" she chastised, though her slightly flustered face and shy smile betrayed her tone.

"You love it."

"I love you." Their eyes locked again, and the playful banter was gone in an instant. "You've always had my heart, Sammy. Always will have it."

"I know. You have mine too, always." He told her, taking her free small hand and placing it over his chest, letting her feel the pulse of life inside of it. Their declaration sounded so matter of fact and simple, like pointing out the color of the sky. The grass is green, the sun is warm and yellow, and Sam and Mercedes had each other's hearts forever. No surprise.

"Now see? In my mind, that makes us two of the wealthiest people in the world. We're practically love millionares." said Mercedes, never breaking eye contact as she pressed their bodies closer. She gently squeezed the hand clasped over her heart and sighed. "And I most solemly vow to never ever give my heart to another. No matter what happens between us, my heart will always belong to you. This I vow, with everything in me."

"And I may be a pauper, Mercy. I may never have more than a penny to my name or be able to give you large diamonds to decorate your fingers, though you deserve them." He took her ring finger and slid the once immobile ring effortlessly off of her finger. Sam smiled at her shock and kissed the small indentation. "But when it comes to your heart, to treasuring all it has to give and the abundance of space to receive, I am truly a king. And, if you let me, I promise to respect and never abuse that authority, to treat you like the queen you are to me, and to guard it with the very last breath in my body. This _I _most solemnly vow." He leaned in closer until he could feel her breath on his lips.

And though the moment felt strangely permanent and committed, Mercedes never once felt the urge to run. There were never any weird feelings or moments of hesitation. The words flowed out of her because she genuinely meant them. With Sam, she could just be, without wondering if it was right or wrong to do so.

"How do you do that?" he wondered aloud, swooning at the softness of her skin as he touched her cheek.

"Do what, my love?" she happily replied, caught up in his eyes and leaning into his touch.

"Say the absolute right thing to make me fall in love with you all over again. One minute, I'm frustrated to my wits end with you, and the next I'm pressed against you, putty in your hands" he whispered in awe. Her lips were so moist and soft and so damn close to his, he was afraid to move. Touching them just might be the death of him.

"Well, my dear Mr. Evans" she flirted, leaning in until she could tease his lips with her own. "I'd like to think I know you too."

And as she said it against his mouth, he closed the small space between them in a light lingering kiss. It wasn't hungry or sloppy or needy, but simply plump lips pressed together in meaningful promise. The single tear sliding down his cheek at the contact mirrored her own.

"Take me home? Please?" she whispered against his parted lips.

Sam's eyes popped open, instantly alert. "Mercy, we can't. Not until it's over with Shane for good. I won't share you. Not anymore."

She nodded against their joined foreheads in silent agreement. "I know. But, I meant give me a ride hone. I ran all the way here from the restaurant to see you."

"You _ran here?"_ she nodded at him. "In those heels?" She met his eyes, chuckling, and nodded. "For me? To see me?" Her smile faltered to a smirk, shyly nodding a yes to him before ducking in embarrassment.

And with just a small nod and a bashful gaze, Mercedes Jones made his heart stop for the second time that night. But for a different reason. A wonderfully warm, fulfilling reason.

"Of course, I'll take you home. I'm sure Burt won't mind me borrowing the truck. He, Kurt, and Finn went out to the movies and should be back soon. I'll just tell him I had a beautiful damsel in distress that I just had to rescue and bring back to her castle" he shrugged, smiling at her blush. They finally parted, but immediately joined hands before they walked toward the doorway, not wanting to fully separate for a while.

He kissed her hand lovingly and walked her inside. "I just have to get a shirt on first. And proper pants on. And maybe some shoes, shoes would be nice" Sam laughed, looking down at his lack of attire and absentmindedly smoothing out his hair.

"I don't know' thought Mercedes aloud, 'I could get used to this disheveled look on you. It's kinda hot. 'Bedroom chic,' if I may be so bold."

" 'Bedroom chic,' huh?" he chortled. "Only for you babe. No one else can see me when I'm off my usual sexy."

It was her turn to chortle. He was _never _off his sexy in her eyes. But, there were some other insecurity demons she and Sam would have to fight, she realized. As their conversation made her painfully aware of, Sam was just as bad off as she was while she was making her decisions about Shane. He had sung, gifted, and body rolled a secure place in her heart. Now, it was her turn to do some of the wooing. And as she waited for Sam to change, the wheels in her head were already starting to turn with ideas on how to seduce him.

_Come Monday_, she thought with a satisfying finality,_ he won't ever feel a trace of doubt about our future together ever again_.


	7. Chapter 7 Mother's Advice

**UPDATE! YAAAYYYY! (insert audio of applause here) **

**If you understood the labor of love this chapter was, you would rejoice with me. After writing my smutty one-shot "Happy Valentine's Day" (which I am told is a good read :wink:), I felt inspired enough to finally finish this chapter. And, I've gotta say, I'm rather proud of it. I feel like the cadence of the characters are better voiced in this chapter. But, I digress...**

**Oh, and, quick little quip: The character of Mrs. Jones in this chapter is played by Jill Scott in my head canon. Someone suggested it on tumblr and the idea has NOT left my mind since! Now, Ms. Scott is the only one who can play Mercedes's mother and do it justice, but that's just me and my crazy fanatic mind...So if you're an image person, like myself who needs a face to envision a scene, think of Jill's would you? It would make my heart happy. **

**Read, review, and ENJOY! And of course, I do not own Glee. If I did, last week's episode would have never left the writer's room...just saying...**

Stopping in front of her well-lit porch, Sam stepped out of the car and opened the passenger door for Mercedes, making sure she didn't trip or fall over the small half step of Burt's truck. And, although she was fully capable of standing on her own, Sam pressed his hand against the small of her back to steady her.

To steady her and to smooth his thumb over the small dip of her back, the spot that always made her shiver.

Seeing her shake and whimper at his touch now only made him smile in satisfaction.

"Behave" she warned, staring him down. But her slight smile didn't escape him.

"I'm trying. But this dress, how it clings to your waist and flairs over the round of your ass…well, it's practically calling my fingers." He flirted boldly, fingers never moving from their spot or stopping their motions. "But, I'll stop. Since you asked _so _nicely"

The sarcasm hadn't missed her, and she arched her eyebrow at him, ready to retort. "Should I beg, Sam? Say 'Please Sammy, stop touching my body before my legs grow weak'?" She whined.

His eyes darkened at her mocking. She had been joking, but hearing her desperate whine made him tingle deliciously. "Change that to 'Please touch my body until my legs grow weak' and I'll be sure to listen."

Mercedes gasped when his voice lowered seductively. God, when his voice rumbled low in his throat like that, it made her warm and tingly all over. "Sammy, we can't. Remember, we were gonna wait." She sighed and took the hand caressing her back, lacing her fingers with his as they reached her doorway. "We are waiting, right?" her wide eyes called to him, wanting him to say yes but _begging _him to say no. It had been so long, and his touch and kisses were reminding her…..

"Yes, we're waiting" he huffed, suddenly short of breath. He knew what she wanted, what she was thinking. Hell, his mind had drifted there too. But, there was still too much left unfinished. They couldn't taint what they had anymore with quickie trysts and thoughtless passion, no matter how much the idea intrigued. "But, God, you're making it hard on me."

"Don't you mean hard _for _you?" she chuckled. He pulled her into his arms swiftly, pressing her against his growing hardness and giving a firm thrust, pulling a guttural moan from her. There was only clothes and heat between them.

"No, Mercy, I definitely meant hard-on" he growled in her ear, nipping her lobe slightly because he couldn't resist her closeness.

"Sammy…" she whispered, kissing his chin, "We can't…Shane….Monday" Her hands roamed his chest, lightly grazing the small V of flesh left exposed by his sagging t-shirt.

"I know, baby….Fuck, I know…" But his body wouldn't comply, attaching his lips to her neck like a vice and leaving small swirls with his lips and tongue. One hand reached under her dress to circle her navel while the other skated higher to touch her clothed breast and thumb a nipple. They both moaned at the small delicious friction.

In a moment of clarity, she stilled the hand on her breast, forcing his eyes to open and look down at her. "We're waiting" She reiterated, firmly. "Because we are so much more than this…so much deeper. We deserve time and a proper place….and two free parties." She lifted her hand and fingered the small ring indentation sadly.

"Monday, then." said Sam, kissing her raised hand and bringing it to his heart.

Mercedes smiled at the familiar gesture. "Monday" she promised, kissing his own and placing it over her heart. "Now, you better leave my porch and get gone. My parents may be sleeping now, but my dad can smell testosterone within a five mile radius of me. And he may like you now, but you'd be dead in cold blood if he sees us now, fooling around in the dark"

Sam smiled nervously at that. She had met Mercedes's large and intimidating father over the summer, when he had picked her up for their first date. Between the moment Sam asked for her father's permission to date his daughter and His father's threatening lecture on the importance of "Proper hand placement" with Mercedes, the two men had found a respectable common ground. Once he realized Sam was going to be a regular and how fond his daughter was of him, Mr. Jones started to loosen up. Being the ray of gentlemanly sunshine that he was, Sam had quickly become part of their family. Sometimes, her father would be the one to invite Sam over for dinner or movie nights.

"I do miss Poppa Jones. Please tell him I said hi" he smiled.

"I most definitely will." she smiled back. Silence slowly fell between them, lulling the conversation to a peaceful quiet. Their hands had fallen from each other, but their standing connection was just as palpable. Neither wanted to leave, but both knew it was late and remembered that they were teenagers with rules and curfews. Adult feelings didn't circumvent their adolescent reality.

"So…." Mercedes swung back and forth, making the hem of her dress billow and sway.

"So…" Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and tipped on his feet.

Their eyes locked.

"Text me until Monday?" He asked, almost begging. "I need to hear your voice…well, read your voice, I guess. Or imagine your voice while I'm reading your words…."

She laughed at his adorable awkwardness. "Text? Why not call?"

"Because I can't hear your voice in my ear without running to you and whisking you away in my arms. Especially not after tonight." Sam sighed.

She nodded sadly, understanding completely. Tonight was an emotional whirlwind for both of them. It had ultimately brought them closer, but it was almost too close. Teasingly close. It wasn't time yet, not until everything was officially finished.

Monday couldn't arrive any sooner…

"Texting it is, then" Mercedes nodded with a smile, before reaching in her dress's secret pocket for her house keys. She slid it into the lock, opening the door ever so gently and stepping one foot lightly in the foyer.

She looked over her shoulder at him one last time, wanting to remember this moment. "Monday" she said with confidence and a curt nod.

"Monday" he nodded back. The wait was killing him, too….

She blew him a light kiss to ease the pain of their parting. And watching him catch it and press it to his lips made her heart float lighter than it should have. It was such a common and simple gesture. But even the common and simple with Sam made her ridiculously happy.

She closed her door and watched for him from her window, waiting until his blonde head and white smile were in the truck and driving out of sight. Quietly humming a nameless happy tune, Mercedes carefully took off her heels and carried them in her hands, tiptoeing across the squeaky floorboards.

_If I could just make it to the steps without making a…_

The lamplight flicked on beside her suddenly, stopping her movement. She held her breath and glanced sideways at the sitting figure beside her.

_..sound. _

Mrs. Jones was a petite powerhouse of class and force. She could captivate with the crook of her smile as quickly as she could make grown men cower with the sharp arch of her eyebrow. Aside from height and skin tone, being slightly taller and lighter, it was clear that Mercedes had inherited her mother's best features. In fact, with their twin button noses, plump pouts, and abundance of curves, some might almost mistake them for sisters.

Her mother hen protective instincts toward her daughter, though, showed out almost immediately, clearing up any confusion.

Walking slowly toward her daughter, arms crossed with a clearly displeased look, Mercedes immediately straightened up and turned toward her fully. Feeling naked under her mother's gaze, Mercedes mirrored her mother's stance. On Mercedes though, crossed arms looked more like a protective shield.

"Mercedes Patrice Jones, it is well past midnight and you are just entering this house." Her cool tone and demanding gaze had a threatening air about it. And Mercedes she was in deep when her mother said her name like that. How did mothers learn to say their children's names like that? As old as Mercedes was, it still made her wince and cower.

"Mommy, I'm sorry. Dinner with Shane's family ran a little later than I expected and I didn't think to call." She hated lying to her mother, but didn't have the words or the energy to begin to explain everything that happened. Some of it still felt like a bizarre dream.

"Really?" Mrs. Jones barked, challenging her. _Oh shit, it just got serious._ Mercedes opened her mouth, ready to defend her lie, but her mother's disbelieving stare squelched every false word before they could even leave her mouth.

Mrs. Jones sighed heavily, staring at her daughter. She looked conflicted, not guilty. And judging from the shroud of melancholy surrounding her, it was far more serious than an after dinner make out session with her boyfriend.

"Tell me what happened. And I want the truth, nothing else" she insisted. Seeing the confusion in her baby's eyes, Mrs. Jones tucked a crooked finger under her chin, lifting it so she could see her better.

What exactly her mother found in her eyes, Mercedes would never know or understand. But the crease of her brow smoothed and Mercedes noticed the look of realization and understanding cross her mother's face. Sam did the exact same thing when he looked into her eyes. Was she _that _easy of a read?

"Come on" her mother urged, taking her hand and leading her into the great room across the hall. Her mother sat on the bench in front of their baby grand piano and patted the empty spot beside her.

"Come sit." She complied, lowering herself slowly and releasing a shaky breath.

"Play." she urged, grasping her daughter's hands softly until her fingers lay spread and poised against the keys. "I want you to play every word, every emotion. Don't keep anything in."

Mercedes had always been master at reigning in her emotions. Labeled by her older brother as being whiny and sensitive, she learned to reign in tears and put on a brave face. When the teasing and bullying at school began about her weight, her resolve only hardened. By the age of five, she had become the master of the poker face.

Momma Jones, being the intuitive woman she was, saw the change in her daughter and recognized it all too well. Worried that her daughter would shut down completely, she decided it was time to give her daughter what her mother had given to her as a little girl.

Investing a small fortune on the best of pianos, Mrs. Jones introduced her daughter to the gift of music. She taught her the keys and proper finger positioning, quickly moving up to notes and chords. Before long, Mercedes was playing full songs and singing along with an emotional gusto. It was the first time she realized the power and beauty of her daughter's voice.

It was also the time she realized that Mercedes sang exactly what she felt.

Like the great musicians before her, Mercy found the freedom to be honest in music. It was her catharsis and, try as she might in her later years, she couldn't help but let out every emotion she held bottled up inside. It had quickly grown to be a ritual of sorts between mother and daughter, sitting around the baby grand and belting out a melody or two together.

In times like these, where words failed her, it was the only way they could truly speak.

Tentatively playing a note, then two, Mercedes took time to smooth her fingers across the keys, frolicking across the ivories with a comfortable leisure. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in the music, playing title-less tunes of melancholy. Thinking of Shane, of the position he put her in, made her slam into the keys intensely, jarring once beautiful sounding chords and lacing them with fire. Uncoordinated notes were woven together in a cohesive tale of angst, and she was unrepentant of the pain thier sounds caused the ears. Thinking of running, of the emotional upheaval of it all, slowed her tune to a cool blues. The keys cried for her, since she had long run out of tears. Every note was low and trudging, like an uphill battle of emotion. They struggled loose from her hands and labored on each key.

As her thoughts drifted to Sam, her song changed to one of longing and passionate desperation. Each note pulled, needy, at the heartstrings. All the passion and intensity of their kisses and soft caresses poured from her finger tips, lingering on soft chords and caressing higher octaves with gentle care. All of it created a melody as complex and colorful as her emotions, and Mrs. Jones absorbed it all in silent contemplation.

Mercedes wiped a stray tear from her cheek as she finished, turning to her mother and waiting, expectantly, for her reaction.

"Well….that was certainly a wave of emotions, wasn't it?" she mused, smirking softly. Both chuckled, easing the last bit of tension between them. Looking at her now, her mother's eyes were nothing but gentleness and warmth. Soft mothering hands cupped her face, caressing her cheek with gentle swipes of her thumbs.

"Where did you go just now?"

"Everywhere…" she sighed, wiping her own tears. "Momma, have you ever done something…something you know you _never _should have done in the first place and regretted it? Then, instead of doing the right thing and stopping it, you let it keep going until it comes back to bite you tenfold and it's out of your control?"

Her mother's face went from warm to fear stricken in seconds. "Mercedes Jones, on all that is good and holy, _please don't_ tell me you're pregnant!"

"No! No, momma it's nothing like that.." she sniffled. Seeing her mother's look of skepticism, she continued. "Momma it's _not _that, I promise."

"Well, okay then." She smirked, kissing her daughter's forehead and hugging her to her chest. "I know you're smarter than that. But just know that, if something like that ever _did happen…_"

"I can come to you, no questions asked, no judgments passed." Mercedes finished dryly. She had been saying it since she was thirteen and had gotten her period.

"That's right" smiled Mrs. Jones, kissing Mercedes forehead one more time for good measure and treasuring their closeness. "Besides, I would hate to have to kill you, you know you're my favorite." She joked, chuckling.

Mercedes chuckled back at her mother's stab at a joke. "Ooohh, I'm so telling Micahhhh…." She sing-songed.

"Don't you dare!" Mrs. Jones warned. " He just got that new job at Sony and promised me a Porsche for my birthday. Now, I love y'all and everything, but a cherry red Porsche has been callin' my name ever since I saw it at the car show fifteen years ago with your father. Gleaming, with leather interior…..heated seats….._eight jumbo cupholders…._" She faded, lost in her vision.

Mercedes looked up at her mother's glazed expression, amused. "Momma!" she yelled incredulously, when her mother slightly drooled.

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry baby.." she laughed, wiping her mouth, "It's just been calling my name! When you're drawn to something like that, it's pretty hard to resist."

"Yeah," Mercedes half-chuckled, mood quickly turning somber as she sighed against her mother's chest. "Tell me about it."

Mrs. Jones smile fell, realizing jokes and teasing wouldn't be enough to take her daughter out of this funk. "Well, my dear," she urged, "You have the floor. The stage is all yours."

Mercedes looked into her mother's questioning eyes, trying to come up with an explanation. Her mouth opened and closed twice before she could respond.

"I was going to break it off with Shane tonight." She replied, casting her eyes downward. She felt her mother sigh against her cheek.

"Oh, I see." said Mrs. Jones, neutrally. She rocked Mercedes back and forth slightly in her arms, a motherly gesture to comfort. "Was he your big regret? I thought you two were…happy?"

She knew her mother was lying by the way her voice rose an octave. She had never really liked her and Shane together but, finding no fault in him, could not prevent Mercedes from seeing him. She let it pass, albeit begrudgingly.

"We were at first…..at least I _thought _we were…then things changed….I don't know." She looked to her mother. "All of a sudden, I started to forget why we ever got together in the first place. All the reasons just seemed so…pointless. Like our relationship was built on something that never truly was."

Mrs. Jones nodded, brows furrowed in understanding.

"Well, my dear, there's no easy way to break a heart," She sighed heavily "but, it's important that you be honest with him and with _yourself_. A lie to other people might make you feel guilty, but a lie to yourself will eat you alive if you let it."

Mercedes shuddered a bit at the imagery. Watching her fingers fiddle in her lap, she figured it was appropriate to tell her mother everything. "He proposed, Mama. I was gonna break up, and then he proposed to me."

"He did WHAT? Oh HELL TO THE NO! Where are my damn keys?" Mrs. Jones left the piano bench with a flourish, gathering her keys, purse and hat in record time.

"Mama, please don't…" she started, walking towards her now frantic mother.

"….I never liked him, Mercy. I never did…." She muttered, vigorously shaking her head. " He didn't even have the decency to ask me or your father…OH your Father! Just wait until he hears this! He'll tear his little mustachioed behind up!..."

"Mom, please don't tell daddy!"

"..and I'm gonna watch, maybe even HELP him too!.." she scoffed angrily to herself. "Proposing marriage….to who? Not my baby! Certainly not my baby, notwhileshe'sinhighschool…."

"Mama!" she yelled, startling her mother before she made her way out the open front door. "I didn't say yes, I ran away." She spoke slowly and carefully, making sure her mother heard every word. _Why is everyone misunderstanding me today?_

"You didn't say yes?" Mrs. Jones questioned, frozen in place. "So, he's not trying to run off with you and have some quickie wedding in some godforsaken seedy hotel room in Vegas?"

"No! When did I ever say that? How did you get all of that from "he proposed", Mama?"

"Eh, tomato, to-mah-to" Mrs. Jones muttered under her breath. She visibly relaxed, eased by her daughter's reassurance. "So, what's the problem, baby?" she questioned, hanging up the jacket and hat she no longer needed on their proper hooks.

"The problem is I didn't say no, either." She sighed, flopping back down on the piano bench. "And, as much as I want to break it to him, I don't know how. It's not in me."

"Honey, if there is anything a Jones woman knows how to do, it's to be HEARD." Mrs. Jones sassed. "Trust me, your father's mother has the "I-will-talk-your-ear-off-until-it's-raw-and-bloody" award in the bag!"

"But, I'm no good at that! Sure, I'm no punk. I can out-sass any diva any day of the week, but when it comes to love…I'm speechless." Her shoulders dropped hopelessly, defeated. "I don't know what to say…."

Mrs. Jones regarded her daughter a bit and smiled. She was all grown up, that's for sure, with adult feelings and complex thoughts to accompany them.

Reaching over lovingly for her hands, Mrs. Jones clasped Mercedes fingers in her palm and motioned for her to look in her eyes.

"Then, baby girl, what you need to do is stop talking.." she moved her daughter's hands to the piano keys, poising them gently in proper position before smoothing back her hair. "..and start _talking_, you hear?"

Mercedes looked between the piano keys and her mother, confused. Suddenly, it all made sense, and Mercedes eyes lit up in realization.

"Mama, that's PERFECT!" she exclaimed, standing up and pacing, "If I can't tell him with plain words, I can tell him in song….Mama, you're brilliant!"

"Well, I did win the "World's Best Mama" award twenty two years running, " she jokingly boasted, brushing off her shoulders. Her breath caught into a chuckle from the impact of her daughter's hug.

"I love you so much, mommy." She gushed, nuzzling into the warm space between her mother's neck and shoulder.

"Oh baby" she whispered, near tears "I love you too. More than anything. You don't forget that." Mercedes nodded as her mother smoothed down her hair. Giving her one last squeeze, Mrs. Jones released her and held her shoulders, staring at the beauty of her child.

"What? What is it, Mama?" she asked, feeling the profound intensity of her gaze.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Just damn proud of the _woman_ you've become. Damn proud.."

"Mama…" she smiled. Now it was Mercedes turn to be near tears.

"Ah ah, no more tears now!" Her mother sniffled. "You've got break up songs to pick out now….scoot, scoot!" she pushed her toward the piano bench and watched as she sat down. "And I don't wanna see you leave that bench until it's picked out, hear? No more running.." she warned, sternly.

"No more running…" said Mercedes, more confident than ever now that it was true.

With one final smile, her mother kissed her forehead and made her way toward the stairs, suppressing a yawn.

"Now, I gotta get to bed! We have church in the morning and I do not wanna be late. I heard Reverend Jenkins invited that guest pastor, you know the one from Church of God of Prophesy? I heard the man can lay down some bible like you wouldn't BELIEVE!" Mrs. Jones looked over her shoulder at Mercedes. "You have your clothes ready for church tomorrow, baby?"

"I think..I think I might stay home. Just this Sunday, if that's alright" Shane and his family attend their church, and as confident as she was in how she was going to approach him, she didn't think she would be fully prepared by tomorrow.

She saw her mother look down briefly, almost in thought, before nodding. "Okay, but we're not making this a habit! I know you need to get everything together first. Besides, I'm sure God understands love and what the heart wants better than anyone." She mused.

Mercedes nodded, slightly relieved, as she turned back to the piano. Her mother turned off all the unnecessary lights and made her way up the stairs. Mid-step, she called out. "Mercedes?"

"Yes, Mama?" she said somewhat distractedly. She had already come up with some song ideas and eagerly began to jot them down on paper.

"Speaking of love and matters of the heart…..how's Sam Evans doing?"

Mercedes froze. She should have known her mom would go there. She thought Sam was the absolute greatest, from his southern boy charm to his intense protectiveness of her. Somewhere, Mrs. Jones found a kindred spirit in him and was just as devastated as she was when he had to leave.

She probably heard somewhere that he had come back. _Did I mention it by accident?..._

"Um..he's fine, I guess. Happy" said Mercedes, attempting nonchalance. But damn, she wasn't even fooling herself with that poor excuse of a performance. Her voice practically squeaked in guilt.

"Mmmmhmmmm…." She rolled her eyes, knowingly. "Well, tell him I said hi and that he's welcome over for Sunday dinner anytime. You know he's like family."

"Momma, are we gonna make a habit of inviting all my ex-boyfriends over for dinner at our house?" she chuckled incredulously.

"Not _all _of them. Just the good, decent ones" she retorted. "The ones _I _like who _I _think you should marry someday…" said Mrs. Jones, under her breath.

"What was that, mama?" yelled Mercedes, missing her mumbled words.

"I said don't stay up too late!" cried Mrs. Jones. "You still need your sleep."

And Mercedes scoffed, then smiled softly, as her mother ascended the stairs. Obviously, she had inherited her gift of lying from her side of the family…


	8. Chapter 8 The Rumor Mill

**Hi guys! Fresh with another update for you. Now, I know the impending reunion seems like a looong time coming (trust me, I know. I'm writing it….), but it's almost here, I PROMISE! This chapter chronicles Sunday, the day before the big day, which means NEXT CHAPTER IS IT! Until then, I do hope you enjoy this chapter and tell me what you think! I think it will be worth your while….**

Unbeknownst to Mercedes, Sam, or even Shane, the rumor mill of Lima, Ohio was already abuzz about the restaurant incident. Since the Tinsley name was a well-known one (since Lima prided themselves on being a football town and Reginald Tinsley was one of their prize star athletes), the news of the cleverly labeled "runaway fiancée" had spread like wildfire, hitting every curious ear and spoken about by the most popular names of gossip. Though sources of the story's release remained unclear (though one would be quick to suspect a certain prying, nasally inclined maitre'd who happened to be present during the fiasco), Mercedes was now the newest talk of the town.

And, like all gossip, the story muddled and changed shape with each new entertaining ear. For some, Mercedes ran off because she was scared of the societal pressures that came with the Tinsley name. Some said she never really loved Shane and had only used him for his money and notoriety, since it was well known that she aspired to be a famous singer one day. Some even went so far as to suspect she was pregnant and feared manipulating the father of her child into marriage without him knowing about the secret child.

The one truth that had remained the same through all of it, though, was that she'd left without giving him a proper answer.

But of course, people were quick to fill in the blanks…

_"She's probably gonna say no. I mean, she's far too young to be getting so serious"_

_"Are you kidding? Have you seen the Tinsley's home? They have sixteen bathrooms, last I heard. Sixteen! Do you know how much money it takes to fill sixteen toilets with water? Ain't no chump change! And, the men ain't too bad to look at either! She'd be a plum fool not to say yes!"_

_"Plus, with the baby on the way, it would be a shame to have a child grow up without its father in the home. No child deserves to be born out of wedlock, especially to someone so young…."_

_"She's having a baby? Do tell!"_

_"Scandalous! The poor thing. That's why you can't go givin' your milk for free! Make that man buy the whole cow or nothing at all! Now she won't be able to sing on the choir with that baby belly. Think of what people might say."_

_"And chile, I heard that she already had a baby once befo', but gave it up and shipped it away for adoption so no one would know!"_

_"No, that was that other girl, Vy, Lacie or Lucy somethin' or another…"_

_"Oh…..well, you know, I'm not one to keep track of gossip…."_

The Henderson Sisters, being the "responsible" women of faith that they were, kept abreast of anything that happened in the community that might bring a shameful name to their church. Being one of the first members since it was established over sixty years ago, they felt a personal responsibility, ownership even, of the temple and its congregation. Nothing and no one walked down that church aisle without them knowing who they were, where they were from, and who they were kin to. They primly seated themselves in their usual corner on the back pew, right next to the church's double doors. It was their unofficially official "spot" that allowed them to chat during service discreetly while still maintaining an air of holiness and upright posture before God. And if their prim noses didn't point high enough to reach heaven, their colorful wide brim hats and rapidly moving paper fans would surely capture the lord's attention.

It was around 6:30, well over an hour before service started, when Mrs. Jones crossed their path. Since she was choir director and head usher and in charge of the overall appearance of the church before and between services, it was not uncommon for her to be there at that hour. Marching down the rugged abused burgundy carpeting of the church aisle (which reminded her to ask pastor if the budget would allow a good carpet cleaning…), she completely missed the tell-tale wide brim saucers and beady eyes following her every move.

Not to worry. The sisters were never one to sit silently and be ignored…..

"Oh, Patricia, dear!" seeing that she had captured her attention, the oldest sister, Evelyn, continued with a plastered smile. "So absolutely wonderful to see you on this lovely Sunday morning? How you?"

"Doing well, Ms. Evelyn!..." Mrs. Jones answered, wearing a more genuine smile. "Ms. Viola, Ms. Daisy…" she continued, acknowledging the other sisters.

"We're actually surprised to see you here so early this morning! After all that's happened, I was sure pastor would allow you a little more time to umm….settle things at home." continued Daisy, hiding her knowing grin behind the rapid flapping of her hand fan.

Mrs. Jones looked at them, genuinely confused. "Excuse me? I'm afraid I don't understand…."

"The engagement, dear." blurted Viola. As typical of the youngest in most families, she was quick to speak her mind. "We heard about lil' Mercy and her engagement to Shane."

"Oh, no m'am," she smiled, "they're not engaged. It was all just a huge, HUGE misunderstanding that happened. I would never allow Mercedes to marry so young! Besides, I raised her better than that. She knows that education and school comes first before any wedding. She's a smart girl"

"Not that smart, obviously" mumbled Viola under her breath.

"Excuse me?"

Daisy elbowed her sister in her rib for the rude comment, prompting a vicious side look and cut of the eyes from Viola as she rubbed her side. "What Viola was _trying_ to say is Mercedes is still very young, and youth has a tendency to skew one's perception of right and wrong. We're just…concerned that her ill decisions might reflect poorly on you." Seeing Mrs. Jones's eyebrow raise sharply, she hastily corrected herself. "I-I mean the way you raised her. We _know_ you raised her to respect the things of God and to do what's right, but young girls in love are a flighty bunch and can be unpredictable, at best" All three sisters nodded at Daisy's wisdom.

"Well, with all due respect, _Ms._ Daisy," replied Mrs. Jones, walking toward them with a now less than genuine smile, "I think I happen to know my daughter and my house a little bit better than you do. And I'm sure your concern for what goes on with my daughter and her personal life—though it is understood—is unnecessary. _I've got this."_ Her smile had faded now to a polite but threatening grin. "Furthermore—with all due respect of course—your knowledge of me, my family, and our home will, from now on, start and end with those church doors. I have a pastor and a God, and that's quite enough opinion and insight for me."

All three fans stopped moving as the Henderson Sisters listened with frozen expressions of shock, taken aback at her words. No one had _ever_ spoken to them like that. So directly! Never in the history of their membership.

But, obviously, there had never, nor will ever, be anyone quite like Mrs. Jones.

"Good day to all three of you! I hope you have a _wonderful_ Sunday." Mrs. Jones cooed, smile back in place as she sauntered down to the altar and began microphone setup for the choir.

"Well!"

"I never!"

"Last time I try to help _her" _retorted the now ruffled sisters.

For the first time in nearly eighty years, the back pew remained silent all throughout service.

* * *

><p>Mercedes awoke to a bright, cheerful ray of sunlight beaming through her window, bouncing off her walls in a sea of purple. She sighed and took in the utter joy that lit her room, breathing deeply to take it all in. There was a peace she felt that she couldn't describe, a peace she hadn't felt in a very long time. If she were honest, a peace that had gone before she had even met Shane, one that had packed itself away and driven off in a U-Haul truck to Kentucky. But today, on a warm Sunday morning at approximately 7 am, it had found its way back to her.<p>

Rested, relaxed, and more assured about Monday, she grinned, unable to imagine how this day could possibly get any better for her.

The sudden ding of a new text on her phone startled her from her reverie. Quickly grabbing her phone to see who it was from, her smile grew exponentially bigger.

That part about not being happier? She was so far off.

**Good Morning, My love!**

**I thought of your face as soon as I woke up and smiled so big! This is the happiest I've been in a long time. And it's so bright and sunny outside! Think God is smiling on us? =)**

**Monday's only a day away! I can't wait to hold you in my arms again. I'm counting the minutes…**

**You're always in my heart, **

**Sammy **

_Yeah, this day definitely got better…_

Mercedes floated in a love haze for hours, sending texts back and forth to Sam and grinning like a fool at his romantic replies. The clock struck 2pm before she could even realize the time had passed, and she heard her mother enter the house just as she hit the "SEND" button on her latest message.

She looked up to greet her mother from the dining table, still smiling with glee from Sam's last declaration of love, and frowned at the annoyed look on her face.

"Mama, what's wrong? Did something happen at service today?"

"Damn right, something happened! 'scuse me, lord " she raised her hand in pardon. "Those Henderson sisters, THAT's what happened!...I mean, the nerve of them! Comin' at me, talking 'bout I don't know how to run my own house….do I tell them how to run their house? HELL NO! Oh, 'scuse me again, lord" she pardoned.

Mercedes watched her mother pace, confused. "Mama, what happened? What did they say?"

"They heard about the proposal with Shane! Telling' me in church like I didn't know about it….I KNOW what goes on in my own house…."

"Mama, please calm down." Mercedes interrupted calmly, "I'm sure it was nothing. You know nobody takes those old gossipy women seriously. They live to talk about other people's lives, it's what they _do._ Besides, I kinda expected the backlash anyway." Mercedes was familiar with the cons of living in a small town. She had been subject to it many, many times before. But usually, the harsh words traveled like a summer breeze, coming and leaving before anyone could begin to dwell on it. The newest hot topic would catch wind, and soon, people would forget what they were talking about before.

Maybe it was the resolution to break up with Shane or the residual joy she felt from Sam's texts, but right now, she couldn't give a flying crap what other people had to say. It was her problem, her situation, and she was now ready to handle it in her own way. Other people's opinions be damned.

Mrs. Jones, however, had yet to reach that same conclusion. "But Mercy, it wasn't just what they said. It's the _way _they said it, you know? Like they knew something I didn't. Like, like there was some _little secret_ they were in on that I knew nothing about. God, I can't stand pretentious people like that! I've got half a mind to march back over there and _really _give 'em a piece of my mind, but I won't 'cause it's the lord's day and I'm gonna respect it." She vented, more coolly.

"Mama, remember what you told me about ugly gossip and ugly people?" said Mercedes, catching her mother's attention. Mrs. Jones looked toward her, eyebrow raised.

"Now, Mercy, there's no need for name calling. Sure, Ms. Evelyn has that cataract issue that makes her look cross-eyed sometimes, but it's still not right to make fun of people…" said Mrs. Jones, sternly.

"No, Mama, not _that _kind of ugly_"_ she chuckled, "I mean about people who are ugly on the inside and spread horrible rumors about people to project their ugliness on others?"

"Of course. I told you to treat those people and their words like sandpaper and…."

"…..and let it graze right over you, because they'll end up worn out and old while you end up smooth and polished." Mercedes finished. "Mama, their words can't hurt me anymore. I've heard so many things said about me…things that I would rather not remember" she chuckled mirthlessly at the memories of crying herself to sleep over people's hatred and bullying. "but I'm so much stronger _because _of it. I took it all, all the words and all the hate and all the ignorance, and I didn't give in. I'm standing now, a polished gem, with a better sense of who I am and _whose _I am" she said boldly, pointing to heaven and God above, "and no one's gonna take that from me. I'm shining now! And it will be a cold day in hell before I cower again under someone else's shade." Mercedes crossed her arms in resolve, holding every bit as much sass and power as it did when her mother did it.

Mrs. Jones looked her daughter up and down nodding and smiling, impressed. "Well! Someone obviously had a particularly wonderful night's sleep last night! What happened to that girl that I met last night, the one who wasn't sure of what to do about her feelings?"

"I found my way" grinned Mercedes, "A very wise woman showed me how."

"Aww…now you're just showin'off" teased Mrs. Jones, waving off her compliment with a proud smile. Feeling much calmer, Mrs. Jones shuffled to the fridge, searching for something to eat. Anger does work the appetite.

"I'm about to make something…did you eat already, baby?"

Mercedes's phone buzzed suddenly on the dining table. Mercedes quick grasp reflex and bright smile at the obvious text left Mrs. Jones watching her in mild shock and amused curiosity.

"Judging from the way you grabbed for that phone, I'm assuming food is the absolute last thing on your mind. That text message looked delicious enough to whet your appetite." Mercedes blushed slightly at her mother's words, trying to bite away her broad grin. But it proved to be near impossible.

"No, Mama, it's nothing, just.."

"Just a message from a boy who's _clearly _not Shane!" said Mrs. Jones, smirking knowingly. Seeing her daughter bite back another guilty smile, her expression turned serious.

"Now baby, I'm all about seeing you happy, you know that. And I haven't seen you smile that big since Sa…" she stopped herself, not wanting to upset her daughter. "..since summer." Mercedes smile did drop a bit at her mother's slip. She didn't have to say it for Mercedes to know what, or rather _whom_, she was talking about.

"But baby, there's a time and place for everything. The good book says so. And I don't want you entering into one thing without finishing the next, you understand?"

"Mama…" Mercedes argued.

"Don't mama me, I know exactly what young love looks like." Mercedes eyes widened at her mother's mention of love. "I've had my share of giggles and grins over a boy, even before your father." Closing the fridge with her hip, Mrs. Jones balanced her food of choice in her hands and sat at the table beside her daughter. "And one time, freshman year of Howard, I thought that I could handle being with two boys at the same time. I dragged them along all unsure, like you, trying to make a decision. Even thought I was in love with both of them, once upon a time" she chuckled, nostalgia gracing her face.

"What happened?" asked Mercedes, somewhat hesitant to hear the answer.

"I lost both of them. Because I forgot that they were people, not playthings. They can't wait around forever while I make up my mind. It's not fair." Mrs. Jones opened her food containers and surveyed her choices, settling on crackers and spread. Covering one cracker with a good dollop sized amount, she glanced back at her daughter, pointedly. "I lost the one I truly loved that way. Biggest mistake I ever made. He was _the one_, I was just too scared to realize it"

Mercedes contemplated all of this silently. Who knew romantic indecisiveness was genetic? "Do you still regret it, sometimes? Losing…that guy?" Mercedes knew her mother loved her father, no question. But she was mature enough to know that it's possible to hold more than one person in your heart.

"Now, I never said I lost him _forever_. I fought and fought for that boy, once I figured it all out. I had to make him know that I wasn't gonna fool around this time. Even serenaded him a couple of times if you can believe that!" she chuckled.

"You did, mama? Did it work?" urged Mercedes, eager to hear how the story ends.

Mrs. Jones scoffed. "_Did it work_? It more that worked." She perched an elbow on the table and leaned against her palm, eyes shining with joy. "I married him."

* * *

><p><em>17,27,2…then pull…damnit, that's the combination! Why won't it work?...17,22,2…No wait, it's 27. Crap…..breathe, Sam…..<em>

It was Monday morning. _The _Monday morning. The Monday morning that could potentially change everything for him, make everything right. And Sam couldn't even keep it together enough to open his locker.

Nervous? Anxious? They were only words. The quivering in his gut and sweaty palms slipping from his lock was a completely new emotion, one Sam thinks has yet to be defined by professors and scholars. If he didn't focus, he might lose it all together. Taking in a shaky breath, Sam attempted for the thousandth time to open his locker and get his books.

"17,27…" he turned it carefully, with acute precision.

"12" said a sweet voice behind him. Like magic, every fear vanished at the sound.

He turned to twelve with a smile, pulling the lock down and finally opening his locker before turning to look at her. Maybe it was a dream, maybe it was because he knew that in less than twenty four hours the wait to hold her would be over, but she never looked quite as beautiful before as she did now. A light seemed to shine around her, a halo of loveliness that was for him and him alone. Seeing her, finally, he couldn't help it. He grinned like she was already his.

"Hi, Sam" she said, reverently, catching the delicious feeling of warmth vibrating between them. Everything felt pulsing and fluid in that moment, like new life, and she wanted him closer just to see if the heat would grow. She stepped toward him, and instantly the flames grew tenfold.

"Mercedes" her name was a prayer, one of longing and desire on his lips, and her standing in front of him, looking at him like he always looked at her, was God's way of finally answering.

"You always put two instead of twelve because that's my locker combination…the two part, I mean.." she broke the gaze between them and looked down, overwhelmed by green glow of his eyes.

"Yeah, the two part…." He spoke, dreamily, fascinated by the way her lashes fanned over her cheeks as she smiled.

"It's an easy mistake…I-I mean, the two and the twelve mix up, since they both end with two…well, one _is _a two and the other ends in two so it…"

"Mercedes, please look at me"

She looked up with a start at sudden depth of his voice. He smirked when their eyes met, realizing that she was just as—whatever he was feeling—as he was about today. She smirked back at her own silliness.

"What, what is it?"

He shook his head softly, still enraptured by her. "Nothing. I just want to remember you, looking like this."

"Looking like what, Sam? I'm not exactly dressed to go to the ball right now" she said. Mercedes looked down at her clothes, confused. Sure, her dark wash jeans and sparkly diva top were nothing less than her usual fabulous, but they weren't exactly her most memorable attire.

"But you're still no less of a Cinderella to me." He smiled fondly, lifting her chin so he could see her. "And I would travel the ends of the earth, on my last breath, just to have you look at me the way you do. Just one more time." He reached out to caress her cheek as she gazed at him, swooning.

She moved to speak, to spill her heart to him, but two sets of hands yanked her away from him before she had the chance. She immediately missed the touch of his hand on her cheek.

"What the hell!—"

"Mercedes, what the hell is going on?"

"Yeah, my girl Lisa at the salon told me you pulled a Rachel Berry over the weekend and I nearly _scalded_ my forehead on the curling iron in shock!"

"I mean, Shane, Mercedes? Really? What about what we discussed? The tina-vention?"

"Yeah I thought you and lady lips were getting your proverbial swerve on while G.I. giant tossed his pigskins around, none the wiser" Santana cut her eyes at Tina, continuing. "And I would ask what the hell a "tina-vention" is, but then that means I would have to actually reach a level of caring that is _completely_ unacceptable for me. Besides, this is about Mercedes…"

Both her friends walked down the hallway on either side of her, talking her ear off a mile a minute about the proposal rumors, but her gaze couldn't seem to leave Sam, standing at the far end of the hallway against his locker, looking back at her with a resigned smile. She smiled back, hoping her expression would be read as an apology.

"…and judging from the angsty eye-sex going on over my shoulder, I think it's safe to assume that the jungle is nowhere _near_ close to losing its fever. Besides, I think you guys look better together. Just saying. " Santana shrugged, unrepentant, as she analyzed her nails.

"And I refuse to sit back and watch you screw up your life by marrying Shane and living some shallow excuse of an existence in an unhappy marriage! I mean, did you learn NOTHING from my visuals? Damn, I knew I should have done the hypno-therapy…." Tina sighed.

"What? Guys…" Mercedes pulled away from them both, stopping their movements. "I'm not getting married to Shane! I'm not even engaged. Yes, I _do_ love Sam and _No_, I wouldn't do something so stupid, especially without passing it through my girls first!" she looked at them, slightly offended.

Tina and Santana side-glanced at each other quickly, guiltily.

"Oh..yeah, of course…"

"Yeah, we know that.."

"But, we heard about the big dinner and the ring and just figured you caved and said yes!" said Tina. " I mean, I tried texting you this weekend, but you never answered."

"You did?" she remembered getting several dings on her phone on Sunday, but never really gave them too much attention. If she didn't see Sam's name, she realized, she must have ignored it. She pulled out her phone and glanced at her inbox. Mercedes balked and winced when she saw the twenty-three unopened messages from the weekend.

"Oh…sorry, guys. My bad." she apologized, biting the corner of her lip.

"So, what are you gonna do now? Trouty mouth's standing over there, looking like someone clipped his little fins and sent him upstream, while the whole school is buzzing about your fake engagement to biggie smalls and slandering your name!"

"I know, San, I know.." Mercedes sighed heavily, gathering her bearings. She looked over her shoulder toward his locker, seeing him turn his gaze away and gather his books. Watching him hurting made her hurt. And she hated the fact that he, even for a minute, thought that he wasn't good enough for her.

_No more of that_, she thought, smiling slightly at the sight of his retreating frame. _I have a plan_.

"But I think I have a way to fix all of this. To hopefully make it better." She turned back toward her girls, glancing between the two of them. "And I'm gonna need your help if I'm ever gonna pull it off. I've got some ideas already, but can always use a few great minds to make it even better. You in?"

Scheming smiles slowly grew on each face, fully pleased at the prospect of a mission. Santana pulled a notepad out of the waist of her cheerleading uniform and pulled a pencil, out of thin air, from her ponytail.

"_Operation Guppy lips and Man-boy hips_ is officially in motion…."

"San, you know if you're gonna help me get my man back, you're gonna have to change that name…." sassed Mercedes as they made their way down the hall. Santana tapped the pencil to her chin in thought.

"_Operation hook-a-guppy?"_

"No…" Tina sighed exasperatedly. "Something a little less offensive, if you don't mind."

Santana thought again, smiling naughtily.

"_Operation toss the rock and hop on Sam's_…"

"SANTANA!" exclaimed Mercedes, laughing.

"What? I calls it like I sees it…" she shrugged smiling, writing and filling her notepad with ideas.

**Sooo…did you like it? Hate it? Want more of it? I NEED TO KNOW! Tell me everything in your reviews!**


	9. Chapter 9 The Declaration (1 of 2)

**Oh, my damn! This chapter became so long, I had to divide it into two parts! Hopefully, part two will be up tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy part one and tell me if I did their reunion scene justice! I still don't think I'm the best writer, so I really hope you guys like it. I'm still not finished writing the performance itself! **

**Love you guys so much! Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, story alerts, tumblr love and all around support you have given my stories. They keep me going and encourage me to write even more. I'll try to always keep my writing exciting!**

**Without further ado, Part one of the Samcedes Reunion!**

As soon as they put the final touches on their efforts, Mercedes pulled out her iPhone and texted both men, giving each a succinct, identical message to meet her in the auditorium at the end of the day. Further explanation seemed unnecessary. They would both find out everything at 4pm. She would sit them down, get up on that stage, and finally have a platform to speak her mind without any interruptions. No inner voice to sway her, no Sam pleading or Shane bitching in her ear to shake her resolve.

At 4pm today, Mercedes Jones, _just _Mercedes Jones, would do all the talking.

She felt the panic set in almost immediately, tightening her chest with unbearable force. _How in the hell am I gonna do this? What if this goes horribly wrong?_

Running a shaky hand through her curls, she paced the small space of floor backstage, willing her breaths to even. _Relax, girl. Come on, woman up! You can do this. The stage is your element. You own this. There's no fear here. You're strong and confident and can do absolutely anything! No fear, no fear, no fear, no fe—_

"Cedes?" Santana called, peeking out from behind the stage curtains. "Hey chica, I got the last of the stuff set up for later. You ready?" Mercedes nodded in her direction, but never met her eyes. Santana took in her wringing hands and tense shoulders and immediately went to her side, concerned. "What's wrong, honey? You were all gun ho high energy a minute ago, then I come back here and find you shaking like a leaf? What happened?" Mercedes didn't answer, but stopped and gave her girl a wide-eyed, nervous stare.

"Oh no, uh uh, we are not doing this again, Ms. Jones, "sassed the Latina. Santana had already spent a better part of the morning dealing with Mercedes's indecisiveness, arguing and convincing her she was doing the right thing. "You are not gonna back out now. We're doing this, remember? We're growing a backbone, going up on that stage, and gettin' your man back!" It irritated her to no end when a confident, self-assured woman like Mercedes doubted herself. Her cowering almost felt personal for Santana, like the fear challenged her instead of her friend. Well, if Mercedes didn't believe in herself, Santana for damn sure wouldn't hesitate to set her straight and boost her confidence for her. She wouldn't leave her girl behind to wallow in self-pity. Screw that.

Growing tired of the constant movement of her hands, she grabbed and halted them, capturing Mercedes's attention. "Ok look, I'm gonna tell you what's gonna happen. Those lights are gonna come on and light up that stage. You're going to come on, looking fabulously beautiful as always, and walk that stage like you own it. The music will play, and you will melt that mike with those spitfire vocals and leave those boys lapping like dogs at your feet. And you will kick Shane's sorry ass to the side, grab the man you love, and kiss him into a ball busting, coma inducing frenzy until he's putty in your hands. And you will swim off into the sunset with guppy lips and live happily ever after. You know why? Because you're Mercedes Jones, you're _amazing, _and you deserve it." Santana's voice softened, seeing her finally crack a smile. "You can do this. I know you can. I believe in you." She assured, gently rubbing her hands up and down Mercedes' tense shoulders. "Question is, do you believe in yourself? Because I can't do it for you. This won't work unless you're absolutely sure."

"I know." She said softly, sighing away the last of her tension. "I know. I just had a moment, but I'm sure now. "

"Sooo..?" Santana smirked, shaking her gently. "We're doing this?"

Mercedes mirrored her smirk, feeling far more ready than before. "Yeah, we're most definitely doing this. I am not punking out now. No fear, no regrets. I'm gonna sing my ass off and have Sam melting in his seat if it's the last thing I do." She said, self-assuredly.

"And you KNOW this!" smiled Santana, empowered by the new confidence in her voice." Now that's what I like to hear! Welcome back to divadom, lady. You're loyal servants have missed you."

"Wouldn't be the same without me! After all, I am practically commander-in-chief... " boasted Mercedes, tossing her hair with sassy flair.

"Damn right, girlie." Santana felt the sudden buzzing of her phone in her back pocket and reached eagerly to check her new text. Mercedes watched her smile turn wolfish as she read her message and knew instantly that it was from Brittany.

"Sorry diva, I've got to go. Lunch period's almost over and Britt and I have scheduled girl-on-girl time to catch up on. Later!" She kissed the apple of her cheek and flitted away, giddy with the thought of making out with her sexy girlfriend.

"San?"

Santana turned, meeting her eyes, as she held open the curtain to exit. "Yeah?"

Mercedes softly smiled all traces of sass gone. "Thanks. You're a great friend."

Santana shrugged away the compliment. "Hey, what can I say? I was fortunate enough to have even greater friends around me to show me how. I may be a bitch, but on the inside? I found out I actually gots a heart." She mused in mock surprise, patting the warm, beating space on her chest.

"Big enough to give and receive all the love in the world."

"Yeah, who knew?" she joked, smiling warmly at the hidden compliment. "A big chunk of it devoted to you, girlie."

Mercedes patted her chest. "Same here, San. For life."

Feeling her face grow decidedly warm, Santana bowed out with a small grin and a nod, leaving the stage, Mercedes took a final look at the space around with peaceful eyes. The sight of it no longer overwhelmed her. _No fear_, she reminded herself, _You deserve it. _Satisfied, she turned off the dim glow of fluorescent lighting backstage and left the auditorium with renewed energy. Now, 4pm couldn't come soon enough.

Sam's phone buzzed loudly in his pocket during economics class, loud enough to earn warning looks from Mr. Finchel in the middle of lecture. Flashing a charming half smile, Sam shrugged apologetically and got up to excuse himself from class. He had been anxiously awaiting Mercedes' text all day, and though he hadn't had the chance to read the sender's name, he knew it was from her. He always knew when it was Mercedes, whether it were text, phone call, or email. He always got that warm tingle in his heart when he felt her close by, even if it was electronically.

"I hope that call is life and death, Mr. Evans" called Mr. Finchel's shrewd and patronizing voice.

"You have no idea" Sam whispered to himself, eyes glued to the phone screen clasped in his sweaty hand as he closed the classroom door behind him.

Seeing her name under "New texts" spread his smile miles wider, and he leaned against the side wall, getting himself more comfortable, to read her words.

**Sam,**

**Meet me in the auditorium after school at 4. I need to talk to you.**

**Mercedes**

_Well, that was a buzz kill, _frowned Sam, confused at the generic tone of the message. Why the hell was she running so hot and cold with him? If it had been anyone else, any other girl, Sam would have bowed out like the gentleman he was and been on his merry way, refusing to waste any more of their time. But see, this was the love of his life he was dealing with. THE ONE. And you don't give up something like forever happiness over a little emotional upheaval. Life was too precious and short for that. He had learned that fact the hard way over the summer, losing nearly everything he held precious and dear to him.

So, what's a little more time, then? If she wanted to talk at 4, he would be in the auditorium at 3:50 with flowers and a dazzling smile, waiting anxiously for her. Because, he had finally resigned himself to the fact that he was supremely and utterly whipped when it came to Mercedes Jones. No, he wasn't a hopeless punk like he was with Quinn or a bitched out boy toy like he was with Santana. He was just…..enamored with her. He would do anything for her. And he didn't care about what that made him exactly, what title people would give him, just as long as he could be _hers._ He would do whatever it took to be her _anything_.

Sighing in happy resignation, he closed the text and slid his phone in his back pocket, making his way back to boring economics class with a more than eager smile. _4pm it is, Mrs. Jones. I will be counting the seconds…._

Shane had gotten his message shortly after, mid bench press of an impressive 150 pound dumbbell in the school gym. He was sweaty and tired from the extra strain of weight, but he felt rather proud of his new accomplishment. At this rate, OS would have no choice but to make him their star quarterback next fall. He could already feel the cool curve of metal in his palm as he held up his trophy, a small reward for leading his team to yet another championship victory. _Shane Tinsley, VIP….no, no…Shane Tinsley, MVP, the fastest QB Ohio State has seen since '78 title star Reginald "light foot" Tinsley hit the field. "Good looks and top speed must run in the family" ,they'll all say, "because Shane Tinsley stands to rival and beat his dad's record for consecutive wins….and scoring the hottest cheerleaders this side of campus!" Then, the crowd will chant my name from the bleachers, their voices vibrant against the noisy chaos of the field. Cameras flash, eager for my picture, and I'll be on the cover of every magazine and newspaper sport section, and Mercedes will run toward me from the sidelines, jumping in my arms and kissing me all over, whispering all the nasty, freaky things she wants to do to her man when we get back to our dorms….and she'll be sporting my big ass ring on her finger, bragging to her girls about me…_

"Mercedes!" he gasped, overcome with sudden shock. He hadn't gotten a chance to speak to her all day. In fact, not since she ran off from the restaurant and left him without an answer to his proposal. Truly, her reaction caught him off guard, and he tried to run after her when she took off, but she took one nervous glance back at him and high-tailed it out the door before he could explain himself. It was his mother who stopped him; grabbing his shoulder and advising him to give her time and space to mull it over. "Girls are sensitive creatures," she explained gently, "as complex and beautiful as a Shakespearean sonnet. Sometimes, you have to read between the lines to fully understand them." Resignedly, he had taken his mother's sage advice and given Mercedes some breathing room—even stopped himself from going to church Sunday to avoid making her uncomfortable—but the anticipation was killing him. How much time could a woman need? Surely, she knew he loved her. Hell, he wanted to settle down and spend the rest of his life with her in high school, a time where most people his age wanted to party and sleep with as many girls as they possibly could. He wanted to prove to her that he was willing to commit, and if proposing marriage didn't put him on his grown and sexy, he didn't know what would. _What exactly is she looking for?_

Try as he might, Shane just couldn't seem to get what made Mercedes tick. And it gnawed annoyingly at his impulsive need to win. Everything he tried with her seemed like a losing battle.

Shane moved to peer at his phone just as his football buddies came in, sweaty and exhausted from their mid-lunch hurdles. Game day was fast approaching and coach demanded they be in tiptop shape to have even a remote chance of winning. With quick nods and hand slaps his way, they greeted Shane as they made their way to the showers for a quick cleansing.

"TINSLEY!" hooted a fellow player, one waif linebacker named Nick with long, stringy brunette locks. He was one of those idiot savant types who excelled greatly at one thing but fell miserably below par with everything else. Nick's one good thing? Football. His epic fail? Proper hygiene and control of his recklessness. If he weren't a star player, he would easily fit in with those hippy types, all free love and flower child with glassy eyes that looked perpetually high off some random weed.

"What up, Nick?" nodded Shane, momentarily placing his phone on the weight bench. "I heard you crying out there, getting your ass kicked on that field. Almost felt sorry for your pussy ass and came out to show you how it's done, but then I remembered you're not pretty enough for me to save." He taunted.

"Ha, ha, Tinsley" he laughed dryly, displaying his crooked, gnarly teeth in a sarcastic smile as he changed out of uniform. "You wouldn't be able to get me if you tried! Besides, I'll have you know that I beat your pathetic record on that field today with little to no effort at all! Six touchdowns in less than twenty minutes, and I still might have enough time to grab a sandwich before I head to class!"

"Yeah, yeah, you all talk. I'll believe that bold face lie when I see it!" Shane cringed inwardly when he saw Nick slide his shirt over his sweaty back. _That is one seedy mofo, that's the truth._ "Ugh, your nasty ass ain't gon' shower? You smell like hot feet!" cringed Shane, throwing a clean towel at Nick's head.

Nick caught the white cloth mid-air and flicked it away in disgust, like it was some foreign creature. "Hey, you know my motto. "Less is more, and more is too much". Besides, the chicks dig the sweat!"

"Well, I don't know what chicks you tryna get, but the girls I know don't like hanging around anything that smells like it should be living in a garbage heap. Man, there's nothing that makes females go crazy like the smell of a fresh brotha, just out the shower with the right dab of cologne. My Paco Roban had Mercedes' face in my neck for hours! And she wasn't just sniffing, you know what I mean? Stuff like that keeps 'em coming back for more."

Nick scoffed and chuckled melodiously in his throat, taking the last of his things out his locker before turning to Shane. "Now YOU'RE the one who needs to cut the bullshit, man! Last I heard, your girl couldn't wait to get away from your ugly ass. Booked it straight out the restaurant before the food could even get cold!"

Shane's face grew heated at his words. "Where the hell did you hear that?" _And why didn't I hear it first?_

"Well, my boy Snake down at the tattoo parlor—you know the one right behind King Lung's Egg Foo Yung on Prospect?- he heard from his girlfriend Tracy who works at the coffee shop two blocks down. And she heard it from her girl Lourdes, who's a waitress at the restaurant on weekends. Apparently, everybody was still taking about it when she got on shift Saturday, and you know how fast stuff travels in this tiny ass town….." he finished idly, rubbing some of the gunk off his teeth with a greasy finger. Seeing his distraught face, Nick sobered up, stopping his mock-cleaning to offer mild support. "How you holding' up, man? Rejection is always rough."

Shane was still to thrown by the news to answer him. Not only did his girl run out on his proposal, but now the _whole town_ knew his business and had been discussing it all weekend, behind his back, _without his knowledge._ And, lord knows how many ways their story had been spun already. Just thinking about it clenched his gut in the most nausea-inducing ways.

"She didn't reject me, Nick, she just….well, she needed time to decide. And I'm giving her space to make that decision. It's really nobody else's business but ours." He would much rather people discuss how good he was on the field rather than how terrible he was at reading his girlfriend. Besides, all this unnecessary attention wouldn't help his case at all with Mercedes. He knew her enough to know that she didn't like a big fuss when it came to her love life. She liked to keep things under wraps; no public PDA's or big, flashy displays of affection. It's one of the things he loved most about her, that she was a minimalist kind of girl that would appreciate him for _him_ and not his money or famous family name. She was drama onstage, but as cool and calm as can be in real life. If left unprovoked, that is.

But, when she heard this, she would most definitely shit a brick and smack him with it.

"Hey, by all means dude, handle yours." Said Nick, throwing his hands up defensively. "I'm just saying that you can't give me any advice on girls or personal hygiene if you can't get your stuff together. Maybe the great Shane Tinsley isn't as perfect as we all think he is, hmm? Maybe this is the place in your life that's finally fucked up." he taunted, hints of jealously lacing his tone. Moving to leave, he stopped and turned to look at Shane one more time, while he was still frozen in shock on the weight bench. "Seriously man, amigo to amigo? You can't have it all, not the way you picture it anyway. No one could live the kind of life you're setting up for yourself and be happy. Your plans are too full of _you_. Maybe she just wised up before you did and backed out when she had the chance. Let her go and be happy in her own dream."

And with his greasy hair and pungent odor, Nick left Shane in the wake of his wisdom, walking coolly away to grab a quick bite before class.

Suddenly remembering his text, Shane picked up his phone quickly and scanned the message, growing more and more anxious with each word he read. Glancing at the clock, he gauged his time. _Ten minutes_, he surmised_. I might still have time to change her mind._

He caught her just as she was leaving the auditorium. Unlike the tone of her text, Mercedes seemed to be in a good mood. Decidedly giddy, even. Maybe she hadn't heard the rumors yet….

He silently thanked God for working in his favor.

"Hey boo" he crooned, walking toward her. Her happy smirk morphed to sudden shock at the deep rumble of his voice, interrupting her peaceful thoughts.

"Shane, what are you doing here?" she asked, her tone even. "I texted you for 4pm, after school, not now."

"I know, I know. Can't a guy just see his girlfriend for no reason at all? Did I need a text for that, too?"

"No—no, of course not. You just….took me by surprise, that's all." she reasoned, crossing her arms protectively across her chest.

He stepped closer to her, turning on the Tinsley charm. "Well, I do know how much you love surprises. Like that one time, when I took you to that carnival because you said you adored the rides?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes in annoyance. _No, I loved the man I was riding on the rides._ "I got sick from the tainted funnel cake and we had to go home, Shane. It was awful"

Shane frowned deeply. "Not all of it….at least I didn't think so. I enjoyed spending time with you, before it all went south. It was the first time I heard you really laugh. You sounded like a hyena on those bumper cars, Mercy."

"I DID NOT!" she gasped incredulously, stifling an unwelcome grin.

"YOU DID! It was screechy and loud and so adorable." He finished fondly.

"Nothing about my laugh is adorable." She scoffed, then smiled softly. "But thanks all the same for the compliment. Even if it's a bold faced lie."

"It's true for me" he admitted. Then, Mercedes saw something in his eyes change. They grew soft and vulnerable when they stared at her, and Mercedes knew immediately what he was about to say next. She could feel her pulse quicken in the crooks of her crossed arms.

"It was the first time I fell in love with you. The first time I knew you were the one I would ma—"

"Shane, I cheated on you with Sam" _shit. _She hadn't meant for it to blurt out, it just spilled from her mouth in panicked desperation. Her eyes widened at her admission, scanning his face for any signs of a telltale emotion. _Anger? Sadness? Pain? _ But his face was unreadable.

"I'm-I'm sorry, run that shit by me again? You what?"

"I cheated on you, Shane. With my ex-boyfriend Sam." She continued, gently. " And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't know how to tell you! Every way I could possibly think of ended with you either extremely pissed or drowning in tears."

"Yeah, you've got that right" Shane answered coolly. He could hear the hints of one of the two emotions in his guarded voice, his mind just hadn't decided on which one to feel yet.

"And I wish I could give you an answer that would erase any of that. But, no matter how I spin it, it's all just as painful to hear. So, I'll just tell you everything quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid."

He looked on at her expectantly, reigning in whatever emotion he held teetering at the edge until he had heard everything and could properly respond.

Her pulse grew quicker under his stare, and butterflies had turned to large winged birds flapping wildly in her stomach, but she knew she had to do this. It was overdue. _No Fear,_ she thought, taking a deep breath before finding her words.

"It was a couple of weeks back, when I went to go get my books from my locker. You know, the ones I always forget? And you looked so annoyed with me, for constantly forgetting stuff there, like it was on purpose…" she nervously chuckled. His cold expression didn't falter, so she continued on. "And as I walked, I was thinking about our relationship, and…and why I wasn't happy." Her gaze dropped to the floor at her admission. Her fidgety hands seemed to magically find one another, twirling and wringing around one another as she spoke. "I hadn't been happy for a while, Shane. And, part of me knew why that was, but I was too stubborn to admit it. Plus, I didn't want to hurt your feelings, even if it meant dismissing my own to spare yours. The truth was….." she faltered, overcome with sudden emotion. "The truth was that my heart still belonged to someone else. And when that someone else moved to Kentucky, he had taken it with him." Her sigh was shaky and unsteady, but relieved. She felt small fragments her life, past and present, slowly start to gel together again. "Seeing him in the hallway didn't help at all. It just brought back every old feeling. But I still fought them—I fought them hard-because you were back there, my boyfriend, waiting for me. You were expecting me. And I had my books, and was coming back to you but….but then, he said my name" Her voice cracked from the memory. "He called me, and I just couldn't turn back—I just couldn't. He called to me—he said my name."

Shane didn't understand the significance, nor did he care about whatever they had shared in the past. The past stayed _in _the past for a reason. When it trickles into the present like this, then he had issue.

"And that's when you cheated…" he sighed.

Mercedes looked up, doe-eyed, and nodded.

"So….you guys kissed? Did he kiss you?" He was pulling at straws here and he knew it. Somewhere deep down, he knew what they really did. Hell, maybe he had a small niggling about it for a while. But, he needed to hear it from her mouth in order for it to be real.

Their stare never faltered as she straightened up, slowly shaking her head. _Woman up, girl, Woman up._

"More than kiss?" she nodded. "Did he touch you?" she hesitated for a second, then nodded again.

She heard Shane take a sharp intake of breath for his next words. He wasn't ready to hear the answer to the next one….

"Did he fuck you, Mercy? Did you two fuck?" he spat harshly, though his tone still even and dangerously low.

Mulling over her answer, she paused and bit her lip in thought. Finally settling on a response, she eyed him boldly.

"No, Shane. We didn't fuck. Not at all" His relieved sigh was a premature response. Mercedes wasn't nearly finished. "He made love to me. And I made love to him, freely. And looking back, I have no regrets"

Well, shit, her bluntness threw him for a loop! "I'm—I'm sorry?"

"I gave him my body, Shane. We made love. And it was passionate and wild and beautiful. And I have no regrets" she said far more confidently. "Shane, what we have isn't love. You and I both know that."

"It's not?" he asked seriously. For him, it had been as real as rain.

"No. And I wouldn't have ever known that unless I had found the real thing and had something to compare it to. I've found it, Shane. And as much as I care for you, I can't go back to pretending that this is right. We aren't right." She told him, eyes pleading with him to understand. She wanted him her sincerity, to remove any trace of bite or sting from her words and only take in truth. But, heartbreak doesn't work that way. It's messy and misunderstood and confusing. She should know firsthand, having to live for months with the memory of her summer fling.

"But, I thought you said he was "So June", all in the past." Shane's throat felt constricted. It was almost painful to speak.

"I did. And I lied. To you, to myself, to everyone. It wasn't over. God, it still isn't over…." She sniffled, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry I put you through all this, Shane. No one deserves this."

He nodded distractedly, still trying to process it all in his mind. "So…was this what you were gonna tell me? Is this why you ran out of the restaurant after I proposed to you?"

She moved closer to him, narrowing the wide gap between them. "Yes and No" she sighed. "I did figure it all out before the dinner, and I did plan on telling you after it was all over, but when you pulled out that ring… believe me, it was more than the thought of Sam that made me run"

"What else?"

"It was the seriousness of it all, Shane! I mean, we're seventeen! We have our whole lives ahead of us to plan. And you were dead set on marrying me, a girl you know very little about, and orchestrating our lives together! Shane, I don't need anyone telling me what I'm gonna be or how I'm gonna live my life. I'M supposed to figure it out! And your decisions about our future never gave me that chance!"

Seeing his face fall, Mercedes tried to soften the blow of her words. "Look, Shane, I thank you immensely for loving me the way you know how. You've been sweet, loving, and doting since we started dating, and never once did I feel like I wasn't special." She touched her hand to his cheek in a gentle caress. "But, you deserve someone who adores you and treats you just as special. A girl who will happily follow you in any dream because she's head over heels in love with you and can't stand the thought of being away from you. A girl you can't imagine spending the rest of your life without. The girl of your dreams. And as much as you want me to be, I can't be that girl for you. I'm just—not her." She said simply, wiping away another stray tear from her face.

His head tilted against her palm, trailing fresh tears down her forearm. But, looking at him, she could see they weren't sad tears.

His mind had decided. He was pissed beyond reason.

"So, now is when you tell me all this? This "I'm not the one for you" bull crap? After SEVEN GODDAMN MONTHS, MERCY? HUH?" he swatted away her hand. Now, all her touch did was burn him.

"Shane, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. You know my intention was never to hurt you! You know that!"

"And yet, you still SOMEHOW manage to run a fucking bulldozer over my heart! I can't forgive this one, I just can't, Mercedes…." He said, pouting like a petulant child.

The sight was almost ludicrous, a man as big and burly as Shane standing there, looking like a sore-losing elementary school boy who had been beaten in a playground game of tag.

"Yes, you can, Shane. Sometime, maybe hours or days from now, the anger will pass and you will think about all I've said. And you'll realize how right I was to say what I've said. I shouldn't have cheated. I'm so sorry for doing that to you. But, I'm not sorry for ending it with us. And I can't be sorry for not accepting your proposal. Hopefully, in time, you'll see that I saved both of us from hurting ourselves. Then, and only then, will you find it in your heart to forgive me." She finished, spouting wisdom far beyond their years.

A cool silence fell between them, her words filling the small gap of space that kept them separate.

"Mercedes?" he replied, eyes focused off to the side of him

"Shane?" she countered, eager for his response.

"About that meeting in the auditorium, at 4?" he said, looking to her again. His warm brown eyes had turned black as charcoal. "Don't expect me there."

And, with a firm punch to the lockers beside them, he stormed off, just as the hallway began to fill with students returning from lunch period.

"I understand" she spoke sadly, under her breath. "I understand"

The hour had come, more quickly than Mercedes had anticipated. The stage was scored and the lights were burning hot on stage, lighting the dark auditorium with a magic theatrical glow. Had she been the Rachel Berry type, Mercedes would be reveling in the drama and anticipation of her performance. But since Mercedes was—well, she was _Mercedes_—she paced the creaky wooden floor behind the curtain, muttering a silent prayer to calm her nerves and will good luck to work in her favor. Santana and Tina were busy getting all the background people and instruments set up for the number, with Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury flitting around to chaperone their efforts.

"Hey, Mercedes. It's almost showtime! You ready?" said Mr. Schue, looking like a true director with his ear mike and walkie talkie on hand.

She moved to speak, but the crackle from the hand device interrupted her.

"_Umm, Will, honey? We've got a situation with one of the singers. I won't say any names, but she's arguing that their outfits aren't flattering on her and she won't listen to reason."_

"_Mr. Schue, the shape of this skirt distracts from my narrow waist and makes my hips look obscenely huge! Not to mention the poor dart work, making my thighs look like tapioca! I cannot and will not stand for my future children to see me photographed looking like a dimply pear! I just WON'T!" _huffed Rachel's voice in the background.

"_Ooohkay, so you know exactly who it is. Just come please, ASAP?" _pleaded Mrs. Pillsbury, already growing tired of the girl's antics.

"Roger that, ten four, Schuester out." He barked into the small speaker, flipping the walkie talkie around his fingers with gusto before snapping it in its holster. "Sorry, Mercedes, I've got to go back and handle this. But you're okay, right?"

She nodded, giving him a less-than okay smile.

"Great! You're gonna do awesome! I believe in you!" he encouraged, signing a thumbs up before running off to fulfill his important director duties.

Mercedes took a sip of her warm green tea, courtesy of Tina, and inhaled its fresh scent deeply before taking a sip, hoping the vapors would calm her. She needed to find her Zen place, and was trying her hardest to remain calm, cool, and collected.

"MERCEDES!" screamed Santana, running frantic and excited toward her friend. She could barely contain the extra bounce in her step. "You can thank me later." She said with a grin.

"Thank you for what, exactly?"

Her mega-watt smile worried Mercedes rather than reassured her. "Look behind the curtain. I think you'll be rather pleased"

Walking trepidatiously to the red velour, she peeled a small part of it back to peer through. She balked and nearly fell over from the shocking sight. The auditorium was full of people! Not just any people, a whole crowd of her peers, slowly filling up the empty corners of the room. It was nearly full, but more people still trickled in and found seats, murmuring excitedly and reading small program pamphlets, waiting for the show.

"Santana, WHAT THE HELL?" Mercedes harshly whispered. "This was supposed to be a small, intimate performance for Sam and _only Sam_."

"Yeah, I know. But then, the wheels of my ingenious mind started turning and I thought, "What the hell good is a declaration of love without a crowd of people to bear witness? " It makes the moment all the more memorable and gives you, my little diva, the chance to show off your killer vocals to all the glee haters and romance lil' Sammy with the lovey dovey romantic drama crap you both seem to enjoy. It's a win-win, right?" nodded Santana, feeling more than pleased with her caring and efficient logic.

"Wrong, San! I can't sing in front of all these people! Are you insane?" her breath quickened. Singing to the crowd didn't scare her. Confessing her private feelings in front of all of McKinley was what made her want to dry heave in apprehension.

"Of course you can and no, I'm not! I was just trying to help you out. I wanted you to know that I care about you both and want to see you together! " she argued, frowning at her reaction. "I just wanted to help."

"Where did they all come from? How did you get them all here?"

"Don't worry about that. I have my ways. Now look, you're gonna do fine. Just breathe easy, relax, and go out there doing what you do best. Remember the mission!" reminded Santana.

Mercedes took yet another deep, cleansing breath and looked to the front row, smiling at the seat in the center marked "**RESERVED FOR SAM EVANS**".

"Yeah, you're right, San. He's so worth it."

"Am I ever wrong?" replied Santana. She glanced at her watch, making a quick assessment of the time. "Okay, we've got exactly five minutes until show time and I've still got tons of little touches to make before we're on. Namely one annoying ass backup singer in need of a "quick touch" with my fist!" Santana's eyes glowered murderously. "Ugh, I swear if I didn't love you, girl…."

"But you do. And I'm so grateful." Mercedes pulled her friend into a brief hug. "Thanks again, San."

"Alright, alright, enough hugs! What are you trying to do, turn me human?" she argued, but her arms found their way around Mercedes' waist to return a tight squeeze. "Now, I've really gotta go. Tina's gonna bring Sam in and get him seated. She's waiting for him at the front door. And he's gonna shit a kidney once he sees you on that stage, so I have Lima ER on speed dial, just in case." Santana smiled, wiggling her cell in her hands, before making her way past the curtains.

"Oh, Mercy, by the way?"

"Yeah?" Mercedes turned to her friend with a calm smile, slowly sipping her tea and closing her eyes at its soothing warmth.

"You may or may not see my cousin Jorge and his buddies filming the entire performance to broadcast it on their cable station. And they may or may not be copying DVDs of said performance to sell bootleg outside the auditorium. So don't flip out, okay?"

"SANTANA LOPEZ!" cried Mercedes, frightened. Her Zen cup of green tea dropped and spilled all over her satin pumps.

"LOVE YOU TOO!" she cried back from outside the curtain, scurrying off before Mercedes figured out a way to murder her.

_Damn it! Of all the days to be late!_ He sprinted down the hallways to the auditorium, checking his watch for the third time in the past minute. _4:02! Crap, she's gonna kill me!_

Huffing and puffing, he leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees, taking in as many breaths as possible when he finally reached the auditorium door. Looking up, he saw Tina, dressed in a white tuxedo jacket and ruffled dress shirt with a black bowtie, flared skirt, and strappy heels, waiting at the door.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Evans! We've been expecting you." Chimed Tina, smiling and opening the double doors for him to walk through.

"You have?" he asked incredulously, still slightly out of breath and shocked to see Tina waiting for him. "How did you know about me and mercy meeting here?"

"Ms. Jones requested that we escort you to your seat, privately reserved for optimal viewing pleasure of the show"

"The show?" Now, Sam was even more confused. "No, Tina, we were supposed to meet and talk. This must be something else…."

"Oh no! I assure you, you're in the right place!" Tina nodded with a showcase grin. "In fact, this show was created just for you. It _is _the talk."

"It _is _the talk? I don't understand…" Sam ran his hand through his blond bangs, puzzled. "She's gonna put on a show to talk to me?"

"Look, Sam." started Tina, annoyed enough to break character, "Either you trust me, go in, and see the wonderful thing Mercedes is trying to do for you, or you can stand here and badger me with more questions, making us _both_ miss the show! Now take a damn program, find your seat, and fr-ea-kin-g _enjoy!_" she said through gritted teeth, shoving the book in his hand.

"Okay, okay!" laughed Sam, surrendering. Tina's smile returned, seeing that he would comply.

"My friends are so weird" he muttered under his breath, briefly glancing at his pamphlet as he walked inside.

He couldn't help sporting a curious grin when he read the title of this evening's "performance".

**SUMMER LOVIN'**

**AN IMPROMPTU TRIBUTE FROM ONE MERCEDES JONES TO SAMUEL EVANS, THE BOY WHO STOLE HER HEART LAST SUMMER, THROUGH SONG AND DANCE**

"_THE GREATEST THING YOU'LL EVER LEARN IS JUST TO LOVE AND BE LOVED IN RETURN"_

_What in the world is my girl up to now? _He chuckled, smiling big as he re-read the words. Looking up, his eyes eagerly searched for her all around the auditorium, hoping to catch a glimpse of her before the show. It was only then that he realized how many people showed up for this performance! The murmurs of idle chatter between his classmates filled the large room, taking up every empty chair and unoccupied corner. The indistinct words grew louder as show time wound down to one minute, and Sam raced down the steps to the front, meeting with another tuxedo clad usher.

"Welcome Mr. Evans. I can escort you to your seat. The show should be starting soon." chimed Santana, smoothly gesturing to the unoccupied chair in the front row, marked with his name. He noticed that his seat lay midline to the silver mike stand planted center stage, and grew even more excited as his imagination explored the possibilities. Santana chuckled at his childlike mirth and stepped back to give him room as he ran eagerly to his appointed chair.

And just in time, too. The lights began to dim, signaling the performance was about to start. Sam didn't know why, but his hands were shaking and he felt the beginnings of a cold sweat coming on as the space grew dark. _Must be anticipation_ he thought.

The spotlight came on, illuminating the '50's inspired mike and stand with a bright beam. The silver twinkled beautifully in contrast to the pitch black of the stage, and Sam knew the sight of whatever was to come would be equally—if not exceedingly more sparkling.

The clack of heels echoed on stage, signaling her presence. He didn't have to see her face to know she was approaching. He memorized the pace of her step like he did his own name, and proudly, knew it just as well. The beam of light slowly skimmed her body, taking in the soft sheen of her black satin heels to the diamond gleam of sparkle on her midnight blue gown. Her smooth brown arms appeared next, free of blemish and glowing in the light. Her pursed pouty lips twinkled, highlighting her glossy smirk. The raven black barrel curls falling neatly past her shoulders flecked and bounced with her movement. And finally, her eyes, brown and sultry, came into full view, aimed directly in his direction.

And Sam had forgotten, for a brief moment, that anyone else was in the room. He stood up and walked toward her, captured in her stare like a moth to a flame. He didn't stop until his chest hit the edge of the stage, halting him in direct view of her high slit, exposing a delicious expanse of calf and thigh. He would have kissed up and down her leg had she not spoken.

"Hi Sammy." she cooed in the mike, smiling down at him. "This is all for you"

_Damn right,_ his mind processed, licking his dry lips eagerly.

He heard her chuckle at his expression and returned his stare to hers, loving the way her swooped bang dipped low over her eye when she tilted her head.

"Baby, I don't think you can see the show from there. I would hate for you to miss it." He finally comprehended, realizing then that she meant the performance and not the body encased in the sparkly blue fabric.

_What is all this?, _He mouthed silently to her, brow furrowed in curiosity.

_You'll see_, she mouthed back, shooing him to his seat with a smile as she shifted her attention to the audience.

"Um…Hi. I'm Mercedes Jones. You've probably seen me or heard me in Glee club, during one of our many impromptu performances." The audience remained silent, without any outbursts or protests at the mention of Glee. She felt it was safe to continue. "Well, this evening's performance is a little different from the stuff we usually do. I guess that's because the reason for this evening's performance is a little different."

"I'm sure most of you, if not all, have heard the rumors spread about me and my impromptu engagement to Shane Tinsley. Confirming and curious chatter erupted at her words, laced with several "that's what I heard!" or "I thought his name was Sam?" amidst the gossip.

"But it's not true! Any of it!" insisted Mercedes, quieting their conversations to a dull roar. "The truth is that I did like Shane, but was in no place to marry him. I'm too young and don't feel ready for that kind of commitment. And I would never ever commit myself to something unless I was absolutely sure it was right for me. And it wasn't. So, I decided to end it for the both of us, to give us both room to find the ones that can make us truly happy"

A _"You go girl!" _erupted from the audience, making Mercedes chuckle.

"Thank you! I appreciate your appreciation for my break-up with my boyfriend." she sassed, sarcastically.

A small flutter of laughs emerged from the crowd and, almost immediately, Mercedes felt more at ease.

"But, lucky for me, I had already found someone who made me happy. Someone who had come into my life like a whirlwind and changed everything for the better." Her gaze flitted to Sam quickly, catching his shy half smile, as she grabbed the mike from the stand and continued.

"See, I met this guy. This amazing guy. A guy I have been friends with for a long time, but never looked at him as anything more because I was too scared to admit to my feelings. And this guy—though he didn't know it at the time—had me swooning every time he spoke, with his _oh so sexy_ southern accent."

Sam's cheeks turned apple red when a few members of the audience whooped and hollered. He looked up at her, meeting her gaze, as she continued.

"And the amazing thing about this guy was that he knew exactly what to say and do to make me laugh when I felt down or encourage me when I reached my lowest. He was there for me, unwavering and strong, without asking for anything in return. Slowly, almost overnight it seemed, he became my absolute best friend." Catching Santana and Tina's annoyed pout as they stood backstage, she changed her words. "best _male _friend….." At Kurt's huff, she clarified. "…who wasn't gay."

The audience laughed and all three of her friends chuckled, happy with her answer. Sam smirked in his seat, listening intently to her story of their love.

"And then, prom night happened…"

A chorus of _whooo's! _and_ aowww's! _whizzed through the silence.

"No, nothing like that! You guys are a bunch of freaks!" Mercedes chuckled, making the audience erupt with laughter. "No, he was a perfect gentleman. He treated me like a total princess. He even gave me my Cinderella moment, even though he didn't know it at the time." She looked pointedly at him, eyes smiling. "You were my prince charming, Sam Evans. Always will be."

_Awwww! _ the whole audience swooned, touched by her words. Both Sam and Mercedes blushed at the rapt attention on their intimate moment. She bit away a grin and resumed her stare, talking directly to her love. "Sam, I fell in love with you that night. Head over heels in love. And though I wouldn't admit it to myself then, I think I always knew that you were it for me. Before you, I had a hard time believing that I would ever find "The one". I told myself it was okay, that I would never find the guy of my dreams. I was content to settle. But, with just a dorky grin and a cheesy impression, you had me believing again. You made the fantasy real. You were the best thing I never knew I needed, and I will always love you for that." Her voice trembled, overwhelmed with emotion, and she reached to dab away her tears before they fell.

Sam was full on crying by the time she finished her speech, wiping away stray drops from his cheek as he smiled at her. _God, she was so amazing._

"And now that God has sent you back to me, I'm gonna make sure you know how much I need you in my life. You've never been shy with telling the whole world how you feel about me. Now, it's my turn. This is my declaration of love for you, Sammy. I hope you enjoy it."

The spotlight disappeared, cloaking the whole stage in darkness. He heard the creak of the curtains being drawn open and a small shuffle backstage of people getting into position. Mercedes appeared on stage again, reclaiming her place at center stage, but he could tell, even in the shadows, that she had changed outfits. The sexy curves of her silhouette bent and leaned as she rested her hand on her hip, one leg cocked outward and pointed at the ball of her foot, with her back to the audience.

The sound of her voice acapella rang in his ears, and Sam knew it was a sound that would never leave him.

_Honey, honeyyy…_

…_.Bam!_

The sudden jar of chords signaled the spotlight on her again, bringing her out of the shadows. Sam realized immediately that she wore the same white tuxedo ensemble that Santana and Tina were wearing. But his baby filled it out _so much better._ Her legs looked miles long in her fishnet stockings and pumps, and her black skirt clung beautifully to the curve of her bottom, flaring out when it hit her mid-thigh_._ She held her face to the side, covering everything but her lips in the shadow of a black fedora.

_I can see the stars all the way from here_

_Bam!_

At the second chord, she spun on her heels to the front, and Sam audibly gulped at the deep plunging V-neck of her jacket and how the shiny black fabric against her lapel made her ample cleavage glisten under the fluorescent lighting. Instead of the white ruffle tuxedo shirt, Mercedes wore a black silk camisole that clung tightly around her breasts and left a low enough dip to keep her goodies on display without causing a sex riot.

The mini sex riot going on in Sam's pants would be quick to argue that point, though. She slid her hand smoothly against the rim of her hat, the cupid's bow of her lips curved in a sexy smirk.

_Can't you see the glow on the window pane?_

_Bam! _

She tossed her fedora to the side a la Michael Jackson, with one leg crossed over the other and arm poised mid throw. He realized she slowed the song down a bit, emphasizing every word, and the sultry tease of it all left him wanting.

_Every time you touch me_

Her hands cupped her breasts, skimming down her chest and abdomen, as she tossed her head back in mock ecstasy. Her head flew back up, curls bouncing and springing around her round cheeks.

_I just melt away_

She looked directly at him, with a full out seductive grin and quick wink nodded in his direction. God, how was he gonna survive this? The crowd whooped and hollered at the show, and Sam felt mildly jealous that other guys were able to appreciate everything _just as much_ as he was. Their cheers were a little too eager in his opinion and he quickly scanned the crowd for any obvious culprits before turning back his attentions to the main attraction.

_Now everybody ask me_

_Why I'm smilin' out from ear to ear_

Santana and Tina appeared from the left and right respectively, joining her in the bridge as they made their way near center stage.

_(S&T) they say love hurts_

_(M) but I know_

_(S&T) It's gonna take a little work_

_.(M)Oh oh! Nothing's perfect_

Mercedes looked to her girls, shrugging her shoulders left and right as they shook their heads at her. She looked to Sam and scrunched her face adorably, shaking her head as well. He laughed at her antics.

_(M) But it's worth it, after fighting through my tears_

_(S&T) Ooooooooh.._

Santana and Tina broke out in a harmony of slow, bluesy ooooh's behind Mercedes verse, wiggling their fingers in a cascade down their face, mimicking tears.

_(M) And finally…..you put me first!_

Their singing came to a dramatic pause. All three girls spun quickly, billowing their skirts around their calves, as they turned their backs to the audience, just as the backstage was illuminated and the rest of the glee club were revealed, dressed in identical yellow robes as a mini choir. They started to sing and snap as Mercedes, Tina, and Santana swayed to their makeshift beat.

_(Choir) babadabada, badaba, babadabada, badaba_

_ Babadabada, badaba, babadabada_

_(M) Bring the beat in!_

Suddenly the entire stage brightened with light, giving everything on it an ethereal glow. With one kick step, the girls turned around and rocked out to the beat, shimmying, bouncing and swinging their hips with gusto to the music. Combined with the live harmonies of the choir's background vocals, and the whole auditorium came alive with sound.

The pulsing party beat was infectious, and in no time the entire crowd came to their feet, clapping and dancing right along in their seats. Sam included, beaming and clapping with the most enthusiasm.

_(M) Honey, honey_

_I can see the stars all the way from here_

_Can't you see the glow on the window pane?_

_I can feel the sun whenever you're near_

_Every time you touch me, I just melt away_

_(M) Now, everybody ask me why I'm smiling out from ear to ear?_

_(S&T) They say love hurts_

_(M) But I know_

_(S&T) It's gonna take a little work_

_(M) Oh, Oh!_

_Nothing's perfect, but it's worth it after fighting through my tears_

_(All Three) Finally you put me first!_

_(M) Baby it's you!_

_(S&T, choir) You!_

_(M) You're the one I love! _

_(S&T, cboir) one I lo-ove_

_(M) You're the one I need!_

_(S&T, choir) I need!_

_(M) You're the only one I see!_

_ (S&T, choir) I see, ohohoh_

_Come on baby, it's _

_(All three) You-ouu!_

_ (Choir) yeah!_

_(M) you're the one that gives your all (Choir) gives your all_

_You're the one I can always call (Choir) always call_

_When I need you, baby, everything stops_

_Finally you put my love on top! _

_(M) Baby! _

_Cuz you're the one I love! _

Mercedes pointed and gestured in his direction, making sure to keep his gaze as she scaled the octaves. On each passing beat, he realized that she and the girls were slowly kick stepping closer to the front of the stage, toward his chair. The choir moved up behind them, taking their new place at center, and Mercedes slowly led her girls, dancing, down the stairs toward her man.

Sam couldn't contain himself when she made her way toward him. No one had ever made him feel this special, ever. And, God help him, this performance alone had him ready for marriage and a houseful of kids. He decided, in those few moments she took to reach him, that their children must learn how to sing or play an instrument. And one of their little girls would have to be named Mercy. He wanted their kids to be every bit as talented as their beautiful mother.

(M) …_And, finally, you put my love on_

_Top! Baby! _

_Cuz you're the one that I love! (S&T) Love!_

The music faded out, leaving Mercedes raw voice with drums and light background vocals. Listening to her words, Sam didn't think he could hear her heart any clearer. She belted her heart out, uprooting each note deep from her belly as she bared her emotions before him. Did he ever doubt her love? Their love? It seemed like all that existed was now, this moment, with Mercy and a mike and their desire to be together.

(M)_ baby, you're all I need _

_ (S&T) Need!_

_(M) You're the only one I see _

_(S&T) One I see_

All traces of guilt over Shane had left her eyes, and Sam's spirits instantly lifted when he realized she was finally free. Her ex would no longer be a hindrance. There wouldn't be any more excuses. They could _be _again.

(M) _Come on, baby it's you! _

_You're the one that gives your all_

_You're the one I can always call _

_When I need you baby, everything stops_

_Finally you put my love on top!_

And with true diva flourish, Mercedes dropped her mike carelessly to the side as the crowd roared about them in standing ovation. Her only concern, her sole focus, was Sam. She looked at him, while she was still high off performance adrenaline and breathless, in eager expectation. His answering mile wide smile was contagiously joyful, and she couldn't resist pulling his face in for a brief, charged kiss.

"You're my number one, baby" she whispered in his ear, as the auditorium lights shut off and they were once again cloaked in total darkness.


	10. Chapter 10 The Declaration (2 of 2)

**EDITED FOR VERBAGE.**

**None of the songs featured are mine, but they should all belong to Samcedes. They already do in my world! **

Sam touched his lips, still reeling from the feel of her, as she flitted off for her next number. _Number One…She said I was Number One. _

If the performance hadn't left him high, her words had him over the moon!

The audience shifted and spoke around him, mostly compliments about how amazing Glee Club was and how Mercedes phenomenally pulled off a Beyoncé classic. Hearing his peers rave about her made Sam proud. He knew she was a star all along. It was about time the world recognized it, too.

After a few moments, the spotlight came on again, illuminating center stage in a cool blue hue. A mid-tempo jazz tune began to play as Mercedes came into focus around the mike, and Sam immediately recognized the melody. Mercedes and Mrs. Jones were huge Jill Scott fans, and over the summer Sam had come to know her music through their endless impromptu performances in the kitchen. Their voices blended so well when they cooked and sang, and Sam would just sit back and watch them, harmonizing in their wooden spoon microphones. This particular song he had heard on his own time, when he missed Mercy and her family and decided to look up some of the artist's music, sung direct from the source. This particular ballad was sultry and sensual, and Sam knew Mercedes would leave him in a titillated puddle of goo when she sang it to him.

Her look was flawless. Her curls had been retouched and swept into a half up-half down style, small looped tendrils curved loosely around her temples and accented with a small sprig of white gardenia, perched above her ear. Her Grecian style gown, made of a lovely ivory satin, draped lovingly about her shoulder and flowed like liquid silk to her feet, accented by small pearl beads sewn in below the bust. Her dark lashes were longer and flared, fanning her cheeks as she blinked toward the light. Everything about her felt vintage and mysterious, like a '50s Billie holiday and Marilyn Monroe combined into one, and Sam grew anxious to uncover every secret that lay beneath the glossy fabric.

"This song was intended for my ex-boyfriend," she started, as the music dulled below her voice. "to explain to him why it could never work between us. When you find the kind of love I've found, there's no going back to ordinary. I can't pretend. My heart won't let me." She looked to the object of her affections. "Sammy, you already know how I feel about you. I hope I've made that very clear already" He smiled at her from the audience, nodding. "Good. Just so there's no misunderstanding." She laughed. "But, I've failed to tell you _why _I love you. If I had written this song, this is exactly what I would say, if anyone ever asks me why I chose you." She looks out to the audience. "This is why."

The mellow tune restarted on the piano, accompanied by the trembling shrill of violin strings, as her voice pierced through the hearts of the enraptured audience.

_(M) You love me_

_Especial-ly different_

_Every time_

_You keep me_

_on my feet_

_Happily _

_Excited by_

_Your cologne_

Mercedes ran her finger down the pulse of her neck, across to her collarbone and down her cleaved breasts encased in the tight wrap of her dress. Sam felt his jeans tighten ever so slightly when the warm chocolate brown of her eyes melted into his own, capturing him in the most erotic of stares.

_And your hands_

Her trailing hand opened, fanning across her bust and down her abdomen, rippling as she did a small body roll under her palm. Sam gulped audibly, face and body growing hot from the seduction, and shifted his hips in the cushioned seat. Maybe if he thought hard enough, he could get the blood in his system to flow away from his groin and back to the rest of his body…

_Your smile_

_Your intelligence_

Her fingertips trailed lightly up the silver pole of the mike stand, moving to cup the smooth head of the microphone in her small hands. He couldn't help it. Sam's body was drawing the parallels.

_You woo me_

_You court me_

_You tease me_

_Oh! You please me_

Oh hell, now she was killing him. The tiny moan she gave rounded her full lips so perfectly, gently parting them to release each _o _and _ou_ she crooned. And her fucking well-manicured nails wouldn't stop drawing slow, stimulating circles on the sides of the mike head when she sang of_ teasing _and _pleasing_. He could think of twenty-five different ways to please her right now…

_You school me_

_Give me things to think about _

_Ignite me_

_You invite me_

_You co-write me_

_You love me_

_You like me_

_Incite me to_

_Chorus_

_Ooooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh ooooooh_

_Ooooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh….._

Sam closed his eyes tightly, breaking their stare, letting her _oooh's _peck like lips all over his body, in melodious kisses across his lips and cheeks. He felt them brush the sensitive skin of his clavicle, trailing down his chest and circling around the space of his heart, sinking deeper through his skin until one with him. His legs crossed instinctively, feeling himself get carried away. He tried to keep himself contained in the slit of his boxers, but by the time she repeated the second verse, Sam was a mess of testosterone and sweat.

La dada dadadada dadadada dadada oooohhh…..

Fuck, he had to suppress a shudder when her silken throat rode the higher register. If notes were fingers, they were skirting down his back and rubbing the bulge of his cock right now. Damn, how _does _she do the things she does with her mouth?

Mercedes watched her man bite his lip as she sang, extremely turned on by his lack of control. _God, when we're alone_, said her eyes to his, reviving the naughty slide of a grin she loved so much.

_You're different_

_And special_

_You're different and special in every way imaginable_

_You love me from my hair follicle to my toenails_

_You have me feelin' like_

_The breeze_

_Easy and free and _

_Lovely and me_

_And when you touch me_

_I just can't con-trol it_

_When you touch me_

_I just can't hold it_

_The emotion_

_Inside of me_

_I can feel it_

_Ah ah ah…mmmm_

_Oh shit, touch yourself again, Mercedes. _Sam was panting, open mouth _panting,_ when she growled low in her throat and ran her hands slowly down her arms. God, as much as he loved the words, the song, the _everything—_he internally begged her to stop torturing him.

ah ah, ah ha

ah ah, ah ha

ah ah, ah ha ah ha ah ha lalala

Every _ah _rode him, rocked his body in ways he didn't know were possible with mere words. By the time the song finally came to an end, Sam collapsed in his chair with a huff, completely spent.

The crowd, meanwhile, was in a raucous uproar about the performance. They were clapping, whistling, hooting, and screaming from every corner of the auditorium, and Mercedes turned towards their applause with glazed eyes. She had almost forgotten they were here!

_Damn, _she whispered to herself, fanning the heat of her body away with her hands. She turned to look at the side stage, meeting the amused knowing stares of all her friends.

"Hot damn!" shouted Artie.

"Sexy mama better GET IT!" screamed Puck in a high pitched squeal, making Mercedes smile and blush from embarrassment. As always, she turned back to Sam to gauge his expression, wanting to know what he thought of her choice of song.

She didn't have to wonder long. His eyes weren't even focused on her face. He raked her body, up and down, with his green eyes, biting his lip and shaking his head at the sight. When he finally reached her eyes, he arched a sharp brow, as if to say _"You damn well already know." _And it was Mercedes' turn to shudder, excited from his promise.

It's a good thing the lights went out when they did, cloaking their views of each other, or Sam and Mercedes would have given Mckinley an X-rated show on that stage that they would never soon forget.

"God honey, are you okay?" inquired Tina, helping Mercedes change quickly backstage for her next number. "Are there any slippery messes on that stage we have to clean up?"

"I for damn sure had to change a panty or two after you started singing those riffs! Damn, Trouty put it on you like that, chica? Why am I just knowing this now?" said Santana, swatting Mercedes arm as it slid through her flowery dress.

"It's not like I kiss and tell, Santana!" blushed Mercedes. "besides, it's more than just….that. It's love. He cherishes my body."

"From how long you held those oohs and ahhs, he must have been cherishing at least four to five times a week over summer!" cracked the latina, buckling the small gold buckle on Mercedes's shoe.

"Sometimes six, when the back of his pizza van was empty." She mumbled.

Tina and Santana looked at her, in incredulous amusement, sharing the same thought.

"Well, damn!" they chorused.

"What the hell have I been doing with my life?"

"Lil' Sammy must have picked up some new tricks since the last time we were together. By the way, if you had seen his moves before you two got together, you would be on your knees _saying a prayer of thanks_ to me for the assist in transformation. _You're welcome._" Santana said, patting her leg as she finished her work on her shoe.

Tina adjusted the corner of her strap, fluffed her hair, and stepped back with Santana to admire their work.

"So, do I look like a summer dream?" joked Mercedes, swishing the tulle of her skirt back and forth like an innocent school girl.

"You look amazing." gushed Tina.

"Yeah, more like Sam's summer fantasy. He's gonna go gaga, babe." assured Santana, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks guys." she said, pulling them in for a group hug.

"ALRIGHT PEOPLE, IT'S SHOWTIME! LET'S GO!" screamed Rachel, clapping her hands to speed their movement. Turning to see the three girls huddled, she walked toward them with a pointed frown. "This little "girl bonding time", while endearingly touching, is wholly inappropriate when we have less than a minute to position on stage. Thirty seconds, at best! Can we please try to focus?" As a side thought, she turned her attentions toward Mercedes, smiling a saccharine smile. "Wonderful job by the way, Mercedes. Flawless, as always." And with a light skip and hair toss, she left their presence.

Santana followed her with a murderous glare as she exited to go onstage. "See that? That right there? That was strike two. Just give me another reason, Berry. Just give me another goddamn REASON!" huffed Santana, clapping her fist in her palm.

"Whoa, easy 'Tana! Remember, we're doing this for Mercedes. It will all be over soon. Let's just take some cleansing breaths….." chided Tina, reaching over to massage the extreme tension in Santana's shoulders.

Santana's breaths flared her nostrils in shallow, terse puffs. It would have to do, as they went onstage to take their places.

Trying to distract his mind from the heated previous performance, Sam picked up his program and perused it, giving it a better look. When he finally opened it, he realized that there was a performance song list, complete with a meaningful phrase next to each title:

**Love on Top—to assure him he's the one**

**He Loves Me—to tell him the reason why**

**Summer Lovin'—to remind him of what we had**

**Special select performance—the promise of what we will be**

He smiled fondly at her thoughtfulness. She had definitely nailed the first. And the second had him knowing the reason why, how, in what position and for how hard to thrust to get her hittin' them high notes. His lips curved into a smile at the third title, already loving the idea of seeing their summer play out onstage. But the fourth left him puzzled. Why had she left that title out? And what did she mean by promise? To Sam, she had already said everything he needed to hear. She wanted them together just as much as he did, and it was enough for him to confidently move forward with their relationship.

The thought of more, though of something that she had yet to touch on, intrigued him.

The lights of the stage coming on took his eyes from the booklet. He joined the audience in rapt applause when he saw the stage setup, a bleacher and lunch table design befitting the song title scene.

All the girls (and Kurt) were sitting at the lunch table on stage right, huddled close and frozen in mid-conversation, holding dramatic poses. All the girls (save for Santana, Brittany, Kurt, and Sugar) were donned in some variation of a '50's style floral print dress, complete with full tulle skirt, white ankle socks and black mary-janes with a small heel, and sweetheart halter neckline. The others were donned as the classic pink ladies, with embroidered hot pink jackets and black Rayban Wayfarer sunglasses to make them look as hard-edged and kickass as the original group. Mercedes sat on the front bench toward the audience, wearing a goldenrod yellow rose print that made her glow like a walking sunbeam. A small trim of lace accented the curve of her bust, with a string of cream pearls accented around her neck. Her curls were away from her face, pulled back by a simple matching headband, so everyone could see the shine of her smile. She was facing Tina on her right, whose pose suggested she was in the middle of telling Mercedes a great joke.

The boys were scattered on the mock bleachers, dressed in black leather and T-bird jackets. They were all positioned to face the large empty spot in the middle, looking to it with eager focus. Sam eyed their little scene oddly, confused by the key missing element. _Where was Danny? _But the joyful, teenybopper beat began before he could give it a second thought. His sights shifted back to Mercedes, watching with glee as she swayed to the music and began to sing.

(M) _Summer lovin' _

_Had me a blast_

_Summer lovin' _

_Happened so fast_

_Hmm, but that's not her part_, Sam thought, frowning. Just when he moved to look at his booklet again, hoping to find something he'd missed, the roar of heavy laughter from the audience caught his attention. Following their points and laughing guffaws, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the sight. There stood Puck, dressed in a green plaid shirt, light wash jeans, and old blue converses. Not only was he dressed for the wrong decade, but he sported a long, blond male wig, cut to fan out below the ears, with a wispy side bang. Sam's cheeks reddened in embarrassment when he realized Puck was supposed to make a surprise appearance. It was for shock value.

He was dressed as Sam, pre-haircut and post-beiber days. Sam cringed when Puck strode to his position on the bleachers.

(P) _Met a girl, crazy for me_

Puck spun on his heels and fell back dramatically against the bleachers, letting out a high pitched squeal as he fell. The audience members had a riot, but Sam ducked awkwardly in his seat, trying to hide his heated cheeks.

_(M) Met a boy, cute as can be_

_(P&M) Summer days, drifting away to _

_Uh! Oh, those Summer nights_

Mercedes and Puck sashayed to the beat, meeting in the middle with their respective crews following them center stage. Puck grabbed her hand as he dropped down on one knee in front of her, kissing her hand and batting his lashes at her with love struck, puppy dog eyes. Sam smirked a little at that. _Oh god, is that how I look? _Puck looked to Sam briefly, breaking character, and shot him a goofy smile and thumbs up for his dead-on impersonation. Sam shook his head, scoffing with a small smile. _You are so dead, Puck. So dead. _

Mercedes worried about Sam's response to Puck's "interpretation" of him at first, watching him duck in his seat and cringe when he appeared onstage. But, from the look on his face, he was slowly warming to Puck's antics. Mercedes shook her hand gently in Puck's, urging him with her eyes to play it up as much as possible.

With a small nod, Puck released her hand, ready to get his "Summer Sam" on.

_(boys) well, oh well, oh well, oh uuh!_

_(girls) Tell me more, tell me more!_

_Was it love at first sight?_

_(boys) Tell me more, tell me more!_

_Did she put up a fight?_

Puck and Mercedes played out the scene as the glee club finished each verse. They circled each other, holding their hands to their hearts while they gazed into each other's eyes adoringly at "love at first sight." At "Put up a fight", they put up their fists in a mock boxing match, swinging at each other with outlandishly awkward punches. Mercedes threw a swing that hit Puck in the jaw, and Puck threw his body out in slow motion, falling spread-eagled to the ground with an audible plop. Sam laughed loudly this time at their antics, realizing that the short play wasn't intended to make fun of him. Rather, it was to satire the blissfully carefree summer they had together. The thought made him enjoy the spectacle even more, eyes glowing in mirth. The audience seemed to enjoy it too, laughing wildly at all of Puck's moves.

(P) _Took her bowling in the arcade_

Puck stretched back his hand and did a mock roll of a bowling ball, his tongue jutting ridiculously from the side of his mouth in mock focus.

_(M) we went strollin', drank lemonade_

_(P) we made out under the dock_

_(Santana) ugh!_

Mercedes and Puck bent forward at the waist, with exaggerated pouts, as they moved closer for a kiss. Santana, playing Rizzo, slid a hand between their lips before they could meet, voicing her disgust at their attempt.

_(M) We stayed out 'til ten o'clock!_

_(Girls and boys) Wow!_

All the glee club members (besides the pink ladies) gasped and slapped their hands on their cheeks in surprise, pretending to be impressed with their curfew. This time Sam outright chuckled, loving the silliness of it all. He always did enjoy a good jest or two, even if it was somewhat at his expense.

_(P&M) Summer fling, don't mean a thing_

_But, uh! Oh, those summer nights!_

_(Boys) well, oh well, oh well, oh uh!_

_Tell me more, Tell me more_

_But you don't gotta brag_

_(Girls) Tell me more, tell me more_

_(Kurt) 'cuz he sounds like a drag_

Sam guffawed and doubled over in laughter when he realized Kurt was wearing a long, curly auburn wig and pulled out a cigarette from behind his ear to smoke it.

His friends were comical geniuses.

_(M) he got friendly, holding my hand_

Puck and Mercedes strolled across the stage, holding hands and swinging them back and forth while they looked away from each other smiling. Puck mouthed "Score!" to the audience, fist pumping in the air while Mercedes face was turned away. Sam shot him a thumbs up at the move, grinning broadly. _Now __that's __a Sam Evans move! _

_(P) Well, she got friendly, down in the sa-a-and_

Puck dropped to his knees and bent backward, pumping and thrusting his hips in the air lewdly with his verse. Girls in the audience squealed and whistled after him, and Puck blew a particularly eager group a small kiss from the ground. Sam turned back and watched amused as the brunette's eyes rolled back in her head before she fainted into her friends' arms. When they started rapidly fanning her, Sam was near tears from laughing so hard. His sides and throat ached from the pressure.

_(M) he was sweet, just turned eighteen_

_(P) well she was good, you know what I mean_

_(All) Oh!_

Mercedes stood center, swinging her hips back and forth with her hands behind her back, looking utterly sweet and innocent. Sam smiled lovingly at her, adoring the plump roundness of her cheeks as she grinned. His smile quickly turned to a frown when he saw Puck press himself behind her, outlining the curves of her body with his hands during his designated verse. Sure, he wasn't touching her, but he was far too close for Sam's liking. With a quick "cut it out" motion to his stage twin, Puck quit his antics, throwing up his hands and backing away from Mercedes in mock surrender. His responding smile was guilty, but unapologetic.

_(P&M) Summer heat, boy and girl meet_

_But uh, oh those summer nights!_

_(All) Bah, bah, bah!_

_(Girls) Tell me more, tell me more!_

_(Santana) how much dough did he spend?_

Puck reached in his pockets and pulled out wads of fake cash, tossing it in the air as he, Artie, and Mike started bouncing their shoulders, dancing as they "made it rain" on stage. Mercedes had to cover her mouth to suppress her giggles.

_(Boys) Tell me more, tell me more!_

_(Rory) Could she get me a friend?_

The music turned solemn, slowing down as the song came to a close. Much like their summer, it was ending too soon.

_(P&M) Summer dreams, ripped at the seams_

All the glee boys turned and bent over, revealing a rather large split in their leather pants. Sam couldn't take it, he was dying from laughter! The crowd seemed to feel the same way, with plenty of people falling out of their chairs and beating the floor with their fists.

_(P&M) Bu-ut, oh! Those Summer…_

Puck and Mercedes faced each other, taking deep breaths and arching their eyebrows in challenge, before attempting to belt their next note.

_(P&M) Ni-hiiights!_

Mercedes turned to the audience, belting the note with little effort. Puck, however, made a comical mess of it. On the first step of the octave, Puck grabbed his throat and bugged his eyes out of his head, pretending to choke for air. On the second, he fell to his knees and bent over, face turning red from the strain to push through to the end. On the last octave, he took a very obvious breath in between and continued, but still managed to fall and collapse on the floor with a dramatic faint, hand to the forehead and all. At the end of the song, and at the standing ovation from the audience demanding an encore, Mercedes slapped his thigh, urging him to stand as she laughed at him. He finally woke from his fake daze, smiling dazzlingly at the loving attention from the crowd. He ate it up with a shit-eating grin, bowing over and over with a flourish while holding the blond wig in his hand.

Sam whistled and clapped the loudest, more than pleased with the performance. It was perfect. She was perfect.

Mercedes stepped to the mike, smiling as big as he did. Their eyes met, and Sam sent her a wink, letting her know that he enjoyed it all.

"Thank you all! You've been a wonderful audience! A special thanks to one Noah Puckerman for his outstandingly poor portrayal of my man. Can I hear another round of applause for the Puckmeister?" Mercedes called to the crowd.

The students were happy to oblige, stomping and clapping up a storm.

"And baby, I'm especially glad you enjoyed it. It was meant to be fun and humorous, just like you. I had the absolute best time with you last summer. It's a time I will cherish forever." She said gently, placing a hand over her heart.

Sam, knowing the move so well, put a hand on his own heart, nodding happily at his girl.

"Do you feel that?" she said. "That steady pulse in your hands? It's mine. That thumping you feel in your chest is my heartbeat, Sammy. I'm always in your heart and you will always be in mine. Always."

A single tear slid down his cheek, marveling at her confession. The connection between them felt unbreakable in that moment, like a life force all its own with no tangible beginning or end. When they connected like this, they were invincible.

And in that brief moment of heart to heart, Sam couldn't help but wonder if this is what it felt like to be touched by the hand of fate. For there was no doubt in his mind that Mercedes was the woman that he would marry, have children, and grow old with. He wanted to die wrapped in her arms, forever connected, when it was his time to leave this earth. She was his destiny.

He only hoped Mercedes saw their future the way he did.

The auditorium was once again cloaked in sudden darkness. But, Sam knew no amount of switches could turn off the light he'd seen in her eyes.

He fidgeted anxiously in his seat, impatiently waiting for the last number. The student crowd had also become antsy, as the noise of conversation grew and multiplied in the silence.

It seemed to take a little longer to prepare this number. Maybe it was because this one was so important. _The promise of what we will be, _it read. The weight of the words made him even more antsy for the show to start.

After five minutes of agitation and utter misery, Sam felt ready to burst in flames. Minutes felt like hours to him, and the slow tick of the second hand on the clock wall mocked him, moving slower and slower with each of his glances. _What was taking so long?_

He was about ready to pull out his hair and writhe on the floor in despair when the curtains finally opened. "Finally" he sighed, peering intently in the shadows for any sign of movement.

The spotlight had come on, brighter and wider this time, as a baby grand piano became the central focus. Mercedes stood at its side, facing him directly, and Sam had to run a hand over his disbelieving face to clear his vision. _It couldn't be—this can't be real….._

But Mercedes Jones stood clear as day in front of him, clad in the same rich purple gown she wore to prom less than a year ago. Her hair had changed, with her bangs swooped to the side instead of bluntly across her forehead, and her curls were loose and flowing down her back, but he could swear she was a beautiful fabrication of a past dream. Forget idle tears, he outright gasped and whimpered at the sight of her, hands trembling against his lips.

"Now baby, don't cry yet. I didn't get to finish my last song." whined Mercedes, feeling the sting of her own heavy tears behind her eyes. "and this one is the most important."

She walked to the edge of the stage, stretching out her hand toward him, and Sam felt the eerie vibe of familiarity at her gesture. They had done this before, only he had been the one with his hands outstretched, asking the darker sultry vision in purple for a dance under the crepe paper streamers. And the feelings he felt were as strong then as they were now.

"Would you come up on stage with me, Sammy?" Mercedes asked softly, not trusting the stability of her own voice.

He didn't need to be asked twice. He made his way and hopped on that stage in two fluid motions, taking her hand and lacing her fingers with his. The contact made them both gasp, and he pulled her close to him until their foreheads met and bodies were touching.

"Sam, I—" She paused, her voice cracking with emotion. She took both of his hands in hers and looked up, meeting his red, tear-stained eyes with her own.

"I'm so sorry for ever making you think, for even a second, that you weren't the one for me." She cried. "I've never met anyone, nor will I ever meet anyone, who fits me the way you do. And I know that I've been selfishly guarding my heart, keeping it all from you, for a while. But baby, it's not because I don't trust you with it. It's because I've had to guard it my whole life, from the pain of people who've hurt me, and—" Mercedes shook with sobs, trembling against his body " and it became so ingrained in me that I'd forgotten what it felt like to be vulnerable. I thought I was happy. I thought I would be okay in my little place of solitude, never needing anyone for anything. I said to myself, _forever love would never find me_" She cupped his cheeks in her hands, caressing the heat of his pale flesh under her thumb, as she looked into his eyes. "But then_ you_ came-"

His dam had finally broken. Sam trembled violently against her, biting his lip to rein in the wracking sobs. She couldn't even finish. He pulled her tightly into him, until he could feel her breath in the tiny furrow of space on his neck. Tighter still, until the side of her face rested against his cheek, and his joyful tears could mingle with her own. As close as he possibly could, until they were pressed tightly together and they could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Sam could feel the rhythmic pulse of her heart through his clothes, beating in time to his own. Love was their music, and he could feel it coursing through him every time he held her like this.

"Then you were mine…._" _he whispered. They were one.

The audience stood still, bearing witness to the beauty of their union. There wasn't a dry eye in the auditorium. Even Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury gazed on from the side of the stage, weeping at their perfection. Every glee couple found their partner and held them close, exchanging kisses and teary hugs as they cherished the one they loved. Even the singles rallied together, coupled in group hugs and basking in the glow of Sam and Mercedes, smiling in pride at their handiwork.

"This is why I wanted to sing this song to you." She whispered, sniffling against his cheek. She adjusted her body mike so the whole room could hear her confession. "I want forever with you, Sam Evans. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and only you. I want you to be the first person I wake to and last person I see every day. And I want to give all of my heart to you, devoted to making you even remotely as happy as you've made me."

He smiled at the confidence in her eyes, in awe of the change in her. "You gotta be careful, you know. Someone could mistake that for a proposal. We wouldn't want any more scandalous wedding rumors circulating about you, Ms. Jones."

She chuckled, running her small fingers through his hair and tugging him closer. "I don't care. I love you. Let them say what they want."

"I love you too." He whispered against her lips, until his voice was merely a breath. "_so much_."

And, with his last needy breath, Sam leaned into her for the slowest and sweetest of kisses, reveling in the feel of her soft lips pressed against his. It felt like she was perfectly fitted for his mouth. Or perhaps God had created him for the specific purpose of loving her, and saw fit to endow him with lips as pouty and plump as hers so he could properly worship her mouth. Whatever the reason, she felt right in his arms.

She was first to pull away from their kiss. "Come sit with me at the piano, I want to play for you" she said breathlessly. Without a word, he took her hand and let her lead him to the piano bench, sitting beside her as she poised her fingers on the keys. This song needed no further introduction. If she followed her mother's advice, hopefully the keys would speak for her.

Focusing on the ivories beneath her fingers, she started to play, weaving her melody of love with artful skill. Sam just watched on silently, letting the pretty notes from her pretty fingers take him away. Santana, Tina, Brittany, Quinn, and Rachel silently took their places behind the downstage microphones, ready to support her with their vocals.

_Mmmhmm, I love you_

_I love you, I love you, I love you_

_Baby I love you__  
><em>_You are my life__  
><em>_My happiest moments weren't complete__  
><em>_If you weren't by my side__  
><em>_You're my relation__  
><em>_In connection to the sun__  
><em>_With you next to me__  
><em>_There's no darkness I can't overcome__  
><em>_You are my raindrop__  
><em>_I am the seed__  
><em>_With you and God, who's my sunlight__  
><em>_I bloom and grow so beautifully__  
><em>_Baby, I'm so proud__  
><em>_So proud to be your girl__  
><em>_You make the confusion__  
><em>_Go all away__  
><em>_From this cold and mixed up world_

_(All) I_

_(M) am in love with you (Backup) In love__  
><em>_You set me free__  
><em>_I can't do this thing__  
><em>

_(All) Called life without you here with me _

_(M) Cause I'm _

_Dangerously In Love with you (Backup) In love __  
><em>_I'll never leave__  
><em>

_(All) Just keep lovin' me__  
><em>_The way I love you loving me_

Sam kissed her temple soothingly as she poured out her heart for him. He understood the emotional strain of letting someone in and trusting them with something as delicate as your emotions. He pulled back and met her eyes, watching as they softened in his stare. He could see her opening up, literally watch the walls around her heart crumble, and Sam vowed he would never do anything to make her re-erect them.__

_And I know you love me__  
><em>_Love me for who I am__  
><em>_Cause years before I became who I am__  
><em>_Baby you were my man_

She wasn't talking of now. Mercedes was telling him of a time before this one, before she even knew he existed. They were meant to be, even then.

___I know it ain't easy__  
><em>_Easy loving me__  
><em>_I appreciate the love and dedication__  
><em>_From you to me__  
><em>_Later on in my destiny__  
><em>_I see myself having your child__  
><em>_I see myself being your wife__  
><em>_And I see my whole future in your eyes_

Sam sighed and nodded, feeling the same way. He could see forever so clearly with her. His heart leapt in his chest when she confessed to feeling the same way.

___Thought of all my love for you__  
><em>_sometimes make me wanna cry__  
><em>_Realize all my blessings__  
><em>_I'm grateful__  
><em>_To have you by my side_

_(All) I_

_(M) am in love with you (Backup) In love__  
><em>_You set me free__  
><em>_I can't do this thing__  
><em>

_(All) Called life without you here with me _

___(M) Cause I'm _

_Dangerously In Love with you (Backup) In love __  
><em>_I'll never leave__  
><em>

_(All) Just keep lovin' me  
>The way I love you loving me<em>

__

_Every time I see your face  
>My heart smiles<br>Every time it feels so good  
>It hurts sometimes<br>Created in this world  
>To love and to hold<br>To feel  
>To breathe<br>To love you  
><em>

_Dangerously in loooooooove…_

And at the crescendo of her note, everyone stood to their feet, clapping and cheering insanely from the excitement. Hats were thrown in the air, people leapt from their chairs, and almost all were dabbing their eyes with their shirts or tissues.

_(background) I am in love with you_

_You set me free__  
><em>_I can't do this thing__  
><em>_Called life without you here with me__  
><em>_Cause I'm Dangerously In Love with you__  
><em>_I'll never leave__  
><em>_Just keep lovin' me__  
><em>_The way I love you loving me_

Mercedes couldn't even finish her song. Sam grabbed her face, hard, and kissed her with reckless abandon as the boisterous crowd grew louder.

He picked her up from her seat, spinning her bridal style in his arms as they kissed and laughed, over the moon from the joyous applause.

_(background) I am in love with you_

_You set me free__  
><em>_I can't do this thing__  
><em>_Called life without you here with me__  
><em>_Cause I'm Dangerously In Love with you__  
><em>_I'll never leave__  
><em>_Just keep lovin' me__  
><em>_The way I love you loving me_

When the song ended, and need for air overwhelmed them, Mercedes jumped down from his firm grasp, following his gaze to their audience.

"Damn, Ms. Jones. I fear you're gonna be a tough act to follow. I don't think I could top that one!" he joked, enjoying the tiny sparkle he saw in her eyes when she looked at him.

She nodded her head to the side, toward the crowd. "So, do you think they know?" she jokingly retorted, eyeing her new boyfriend.

"After all this, Mercedes? I want the whole world to know" confessed Sam, kissing her once more as her lips curled and grinned against his own.

**Yaaayyyy! All done! I hope it came out okay, it was a true labor of love. And I hope it wasn't too cheesy or cliché. I tend to get that way when I write romance scenes. **

**Tell me what you thought of the chapter in your reviews! You know you guys inspire me. **

**And another side note: This is most definitely NOT THE END! I still have some ideas for future chapters and where I want this story to go. Feel free to PM me or message me on Tumblr with ideas of your own. If I use them, I'll make sure you get full credit! **


	11. Chapter 11 Severed and Torn

** ~O~ Volume Two: _Do I know you still?_~O~**

**Sam and Mercedes are back together after a smashing reunion performance, happier than ever and glowing in love. But an unexpected tragedy shakes them up and rattles their relationship like never before. Mercedes is broken, Sam is lost, and everyone around them is worried. With the help of their friends and family, and a renewed trust in each other, can their love overcome?**

_**This chapter contains extreme fluff and extreme angst, all at the same time. The ending may be a bit much for some readers. Contains mention of sexual assault in grave detail. **_

**~O~ ~O~**

Their lips finally parted, reluctantly so, amidst the ever growing applause. Sam wanted more time with her, more kisses, in the privacy and quiet that they deserved. Grabbing Mercedes's hand, Sam looked around frantically, searching for a quick escape. Seeing the clearing amidst their friends backstage leading to the side exit of the auditorium, he took his chance and ran with his girl in an eager haste. Mercedes followed him giggling and without question, picking up the skirt of her gown so her tumbling legs wouldn't trip over the taffeta lining.

All of their friends parted for them as they approached, cheering and whooping their approval and praises at the new couple getting their alone time.

"Whoo, go Sammy!" cried Mike, pumping his fist.

"Go get it, chical!" "We're so happy for you, honey!" screamed Santana and Quinn.

Artie's cry was the loudest and crudest. "Handle that ass! HANDLE IT!" he called out through his teeth, slapping his hand back and forth obscenely against his palm.

The clearing of Mr. Schue's throat quickly put him in check. Artie smiled sheepishly.

"My bad, Mr. Schue. Just excited talk is all!" he shrugged.

Will just nodded and gave a small smile. He may not approve of the motivations of a teenage libido, but knew well enough to know that there was little he could do to stop it. Besides, Sam and Mercedes were a rarity. Their love was far more mature than anything he had ever seen, inside high school and out, in all of his years of teaching.

"Samcedes! Whoo!" he hollered, emphatically clapping. Every single face of glee club froze and turned toward him with matching stares of disbelief.

His pale face grew hot from the attention. "What?" he shrugged. "I thought all the kids were doing the whole relationship name mash-up thing."

Disbelief quickly turned to amusement, and the glee kids had to fight to keep their giggles at bay. Seeing Mr. Schue's bewildered face, Finn gave their teacher a reassuring, manly pat on the back.

"Good job, Mr. Schue. That name is epic."

Santana nodded in agreement, calming her laughter. "Yeah, Willie, I think you actually got this one right. From this day forth, may the newly found couple be called Samcedes, now and forever" she declared dramatically, waving and donning an exaggerated English accent.

The glee kids followed suit, pretending to raise a glass to the retreating forms of the couple. With noses raised pretentiously in the air, with the most serious faces they could muster, they all cried out "SAMCEDES!" in matching accents, laughing uproariously afterward at their silliness.

And thus, Samcedes was officially introduced into the McKinley relationship vernacular.

**O-O**

The happy coupled burst through the double doors in their own private fit of laughter, still reeling from the rush of the crowd and the buzz of joy. Mercedes finally grew curious once they reached the empty hallway.

"Sam! Where are we going? Slow down!" she giggled.

"Not yet! Not yet! We're almost there!" he called back to her, holding her hand firmly in his and refusing to let go. He was a man on a mission.

Near breathless, he finally pulled them to a stop when they reached his locker. Mercedes raised a skeptical brow.

"Umm…this is it? I've been to your locker plenty of times before, Sammy. I mean, I love you and all, but I don't see how this is worth running for" she reasoned, albeit with a kind voice.

"Now, Now, Ms. Jones, where is your sense of adventure? Do you think I would drag you out here just so you can see my messy old locker? Don't you have more faith in me?" he joked.

Her eyes warmed to him. "I do."

His green eyes shimmered in the fire of her gaze. "Good. I was hoping you would say that." He reached to open his lock, but her small hand stilled his.

"No, wait. I want to do it." She squeezed in the small space between his chest and the locker, smiling when Sam wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a loving kiss to the side of her head. "After all, a girlfriend should be able to open her own boyfriend's locker, right?" With a quick work of her nimble fingers, she pulled the small latch of the lock and opened the metal door, turning her head to beam proudly at him.

She was so radiant. God, she glowed for him! _How the hell did I ever get so lucky? _he thought, captivated by her supple lips and gleaming teeth.

"Man, you make locker opening so sexy." Gushed Sam, rubbing the tip of his nose against the soft button of hers.

She giggled bashfully. "Shut up! Now, why did you bring me here, Sammy?"

"To give you this." He answered. Reaching in the zipped pocket of his book bag, he pulled out a short piece of silver string, about half a pinky in length.

She blinked at the small fabric. "Umm…baby, that's string."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks for stating the obvious, Sherlock." He gently joked. "But it's a special piece of string." He took her left hand in his soft grasp, isolating her ring finger. "Baby, do you remember that movie we watched over the summer? The one you insisted we watch after our first trip to the lake?"

Her breath hitched slightly, remembering the day in question with great detail. It was the day they laid quietly under the stars and shared their hopes and dreams with each other. It was the day she confessed that prom was one of her fondest memories and he confessed that he had given her the Cinderella moment of her dreams without any prompting from Rachel. It was the day that she realized that she was falling hard for him, and the thought of love and dancing of fireflies in the moonlight had her romantic sensibilities soaring to new heights.

"You mean _The Count of Monte Cristo?_ Of course I remember it. I was so surprised you hadn't seen it, seeing as you'd seen every single romantic movie known to man." She quipped with a chuckle.

"Well, I never told you this, but that was the day that I knew…..It was the day that my heart totally fell in love with you. But I was afraid to say anything because it had only been a couple of weeks and it was still too soon. I didn't want to scare you away. May I?" At her nod, he began to wrap the string around her small ring finger, handling her gently in his calloused hands. "When we were on your bed, you were watching the movie so intently and I couldn't help but stare at you and all the little expressions you made. You were just so gorgeous when you did anything: when you laughed, when you cried, the way your nose wrinkled in distaste when stupid Fernand came on the screen….."

"Yeah, he was an ass…"she said faintly, distracted by the sight of his large, pale hands enveloping her small, brown ones. "You loved me then?"

He shrugged and blushed. "I think I've always loved you. Or at least felt something strong between us, ever since I heard you sing at the night of neglect. Something in me changed, shifted and pulled toward you, but I was too blind and stupid to realize what it meant. It took a summer's trip to the lake and a romantic movie to finally knock some sense into me" chuckled Sam. He had finished his task, tying the small silver yarn in a tiny bow. He looked into her eyes and kissed her hand, his lips grazing the token of love on her finger.

"Do you remember the part in the movie, when Edmond and his Mercedes were on the beach, talking about their future together? Edmond couldn't afford a proper ring to make their engagement official, so Mercedes took a piece of string from their blanket, tied it around her finger, and said…"

"_This will be my ring. And no matter what happens, you will never see it off my finger, ever." _Mercedes eyes glistened with tears, her voice dropping from emotion to a half-whisper. "How could I forget? It's my favorite part. I just knew, in that moment, that…."

"…they would always find a way back to each other. That they were meant to be" he finished. His Adam's apple bobbed tightly against his throat as he swallowed, waves of emotion tightening his throat as he continued. "Well, God blessed me with my very own Mercedes, and I wanted to pledge my hand to her the same way Edmond pledged his hand to his. Because we are every bit the fairy tale, Mercy. And you deserve your happy ending."

She gasped when he kneeled before her, shaking her head in disbelief. His eyes were still red from his last cry, but the tears in them were fresh and for the moment. "Mercedes Jones, I plan to marry you one day. And when I do, I guarantee that I will stay with you through the tough times and love you through all your fears and doubts about us, because they will come. I believe we can make it through anything and everything life throws at us, just as long as we're together. Because we're meant to be, and I believed God created you with the sole purpose of being the woman that I share my life and my love with. And I know he created me for the same purpose, for you." A tear left his eye, then two, as he held her stare. "This little string is just a placeholder, until I can get you the ring you deserve. Until I can give you the moment you deserve, in front of all our friends and family, basking in the glow of your Grammy win." He smiled.

"Sammy," she said softly, squeaking with emotion. "I love you so much."

"Then say you'll take it? Please? Say you believe in us as much as I do." He pleaded.

She paused for a minute, lifting her left hand from his and giving her adorned finger a good look. The slivers of silver ribbon shined under the fluorescent lights, tied in a perfect symmetrical bow. And unlike the last ring she wore, this one was a perfect fit and looked at home on her hand.

She smiled down at him, caressing his warm cheek with her right hand. "Until that day, I promise this ring will never leave my finger"

He lunged for her excitedly, scooped her up and spinning her around like a giddy fool. All she could do was tuck herself against him, laughing and crying against the crook of his neck as he held her in his arms. This wasn't a proposal in the traditional sense. There was no talk of wedding planners or white gowns in the immediate future, but everything about that moment held a sense of permanence. It was a small covenant that reassured instead of frightened, warming the heart with promise and filling the belly with joyful flutters of butterflies. It was just enough for now. It was perfect.

He finally put her down, just before they both became dizzy, but the joy on his face never left.

"God, I can't wait to spend forever with you" he gushed adoringly, caressing her smiling cheeks with small strokes of his thumb.

"Now Sammy, who ever said we had to wait? After all, forever starts with a day." She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling his body flush against hers.

He nuzzled her chin, kissing the spot precariously close to her lips. "And a day, with a moment"

She turned her mouth until their breaths mingled, barely a blink away from touching. She eyed his lips with burning need. "And a moment, with a kiss"

They moved closer, closing the gap, moving toward the amazing inevitable….

"EEEPP!"

Both heads turned quickly toward the sound down the hallway. The sound of a slap to the shoulder soon followed, followed by a loud cry of pain.

"Nice going, genius, you just ruined their moment!" yelled Santana.

"You're the one to talk! We could have still been standing here , enjoying the beauty of true love blossoming in front of our eyes, if your loud mouth hadn't have ruined it!" she replied. Rachel rubbed the now reddened spot on her shoulder irritatingly, continuing her rant. "You know, we really need to work on your violent aggression issues! Obviously, you harbor some resentment toward me personally, seeing as I am the most talented and the biggest threat of the group….next to Mercedes, of course." She nodded toward the diva, still in her boyfriend's embrace, and offered an apologetic smile. She really didn't mean to interrupt their private time together. Rachel was just one who loved the thought of love and grand romantic gestures. She couldn't help her squeal when they moved in for their movie-magic kiss; it was almost too much for her swooning heart.

"Look Berry, today is not the day and I am NOT the one, feel me? You are so lucky your ten-foot tall bodyguard is over there protecting you or your ass would have gotten checked, lima heights style by yours truly!" Santana warned, pointing a sharp finger in her face for emphasis. Brittany and Finn, being the peace loving significant others that they were, promptly separated the girls, moving them toward either side and rubbing the tension from their necks and shoulders.

Puck was watching both girls in anxious excitement and he groaned loudly when they were pulled apart before punches could be thrown. "Damn it! I wanted to see a girl on girl beat down! God, why does every good thing that I want get taken away from me?"

"Because the things you want are either ridiculously stupid or illegal" chimed Artie, rolling his eyes and wheeling his way to the front of the small crowd. "Sorry lil' mama, all your friends are nosy losers."

But Mercedes couldn't even be mad at their antics. "It's okay, I'm surprised you guys lasted this long." She laughed. Sam smiled good naturedly beside her, but inside he was beyond annoyed at the interruption. _All in good time, Sammy. You've got all the time in the world to be together._

The thought made his smile more genuine. "Yeah, it's cool. Besides, I am curious to know how my nosy loser friends helped mercy pull this off."

"He calls her Mercy? Awww, they have nicknames!" gushed Rachel. On second thought, she backhanded Finn's chest in anger. "Why don't you have cute nicknames for me?"

"Uhhhh…" Finn's slow-processing mind had to think up a legit reason quickly, before he loses his newly gained groping privileges. "Because the name Rachel is already perfect enough and nicknames pale in comparison?"

The quick lie seemed to be enough. "Aww, really? My wittle finny bear!" she gushed, leaning against his chest and looking adoringly in his arms. When her eyes turned back to the couple, Finn let out a relieved sigh, smiling stupidly at his luck.

"To answer your question, Sam" Quinn started, rolling her eyes annoyed at the clueless couple, "We all had our small part to play in Mercedes' ingenious plan. Brittany and I were in charge of costume design."

"Lord Tubbington taught me how to sew. If there's one thing cats know, it's how to work with string" included Brittany. Santana promptly kissed her clever girlfriend, proud of her accomplishment.

"And, of course, vocal arrangement and last minute training of amateur voices came from yours truly." boasted Rachel with a side eye to the Latina next to her. A hand flew up out of nowhere, slapping her upside the head. "Ow! God!"

"Oops, sorry. Must have amateur hands, too. I meant to slap your face." Smirked Santana, wiggling her fingers in the air. "As you probably noticed, Tina and I helped our girl get the auditorium ready and set up. Mr. Schue used his teacher influence to convince the AV club to sneak us in short notice. They even agreed to do the lighting and sound for our little show."

"Yeah, and Santana and I got the crowd to come. Some came out of pure curiosity, most came because I got the drama teacher to give them extra credit for attending, which they gladly took since their alternative was watching his one-man performance of _Victor/Victoria…." _Tina shuddered, thinking about the three-hundred pound balding drama teacher prancing around in tights.

"…..and when I wasn't nearly satisfied with how full the room was, I garnered the rest of the crowd with good ol' intimidation and blackmail. It's a tactic that never goes out of style or loses its umph, wouldn't you say?" Santana finished with a proud smile.

"Definitely! Thanks, Santana" laughed Sam.

She waved a quick, dismissive hand toward him. "Don't mention it, lady lips. Besides, it was your girl that supplied the golden vocals. All we did was make sure everything else supported her talent."

"And if there's anything glee kids know how to do, it's how to create a spectacular show and pull it out of our asses in a matter of minutes." Quinn joked, making the rest of the crew chuckle.

Only Mercedes remained serious. "Thank you all, so very much. I could have never done all this without you. You are all beyond amazing."

"You're welcome. Only the best for an amazing friend." Smiled Tina, adding, "and an equally amazing couple."

Mercedes turned her face to the man by her side, smiling up to him. "Yeah, we are pretty amazing, aren't we?"

"Are you just figuring this out, woman? Why do you think I've been fighting so hard, for my health?" his tone softened. "I'm never letting you go. Not ever again."

"And I, you." She answered. She brought his chin closer, ready to take his mouth, when they were startled yet again by sudden clapping.

"OKAY! GREAT show everyone!" exclaimed Mr. Schue, with Ms. Pillsbury following close behind him. "You guys did amazing work! And Mercedes…. I have absolutely no words for your voice. I'm mean, the passion! I need to see more of that in glee club. We're gonna need a performance like that to win nationals this year."

Ms. Pillsbury leaned against him, hand on his chest, as she looked at their kids. "You all have matured so much and come so far! It just goes to show that you truly are stronger when you work as a team." Changing her focus to the star couple, she left her fiancée's arms and walked toward them, thrusting a pamphlet toward Mercedes. "Now that you two are officially official, I can give you this."

Sam propped his head gently atop his girlfriend's to get a better view, and he chuckled in amusement when he read the title.

"_A responsible man's worth a hand in your bush?"_

"Yes! See it's all about responsible dating and making safe choices when you decide to engage in….." Ms. Pillsbury's voice dropped to a whisper. "….sexual activities."

"Oh my god.." Mercedes hid her face behind her hands, mortified. Sam couldn't even reply. His light chuckles quickly turned to consuming laughs. _Was she serious?_

"Oh honey, there's no need to be embarrassed! It's perfectly natural and healthy to have sexual feelings for the person you care deeply about. I mean, I'm a modern enough teacher to respect and understand that children will engage in sexual intercourse. It would be utterly irresponsible of me to ignore it. Now, give the pamphlet a good look and come back to me if you have any questions." Ms. Pillsbury bent in, pointing out a section she was particularly excited about. "I even put an extra panel in there about different forms of protection and how to put on a condom!"

"OH MY GOD!" Sam couldn't help it. His knees nearly buckled from cracking up so hard. He tried to stop when he saw how uncomfortable Mercedes was, but every time he moved to comfort her he would catch sight of the pamphlet, and the laughs would start all over again.

"Shut up, Sam! It's not funny!" she said, elbowing him. But she had to smile, in spite of herself. It was pretty funny, especially since the advice was already a summer and half a school year too late.

" it's okay, Mercedes. In fact, this reaction is to be expected. Boys typically deflect awkward situations with silly jokes or laughing." Assured the wide- eyed teacher.

"No, it's not that…..I just…oh god, hold on…" he took a shaky breath to calm his fit of laughter. When he finally regained some sense of control, he tried yet again to respond. "I'm not laughing because I'm nervous, not at all. It's just that the advice is like, way too late. Mercedes and I have already—"

"—done our research! Yeah, we've already got all the bases covered." Mercedes shot him a "what the hell?" look for his near slip up, reigning her full emotion in behind a false smile to keep up pretenses. Thank goodness she knew him well enough to know where he was about to go with the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do right now is go into a detailed discussion about her sex life, especially with two people as blunt and forthcoming as her boyfriend and guidance counselor.

"I'm pretty sure we're well-versed on all of—that. Aren't we, Sammy?" she said tightly, almost too sugary sweet to be believable.

Sam thoroughly enjoyed her discomfort, so he decided to string her along. "I don't know, Mercedes, I think I may still have some questions.." he said, offering a sly half-smile.

"Any questions should be answered in the _pamphlet, dear._" She reasoned, urging him to stop.

The eye conversation between them was one for the record books.

Her eyes squinted. _You wouldn't dare._

He raised a cocky brow. _Oh, I can and I will. What's stopping me?_

She raised a sharp brow of her own. _Sam, I swear, if you don't stop.._

He grinned at her challenge. _What baby? Whatchu got?_

She bit her lip and shook her head subtly, flicking her eyes up and down his body with a resigned brow._ Nothing I'm gonna let you touch if you don't stop now._

He gulped, eyes wide in fear. "Yeah, I think we're good with the pamphlet, Ms. Pillsbury." he said, nodding quickly. Joke be damned, he had come too far to lose the nookie.

"Oh, okay! Well if any new questions do pop up, you know where to find me!" Her blue eyes searched their faces briefly, curiously, before she perked up and went on her merry way to join the others. Thankfully, Mr. Schue had them engaged in talk about nationals and song selections, so they missed the awkward conversation.

"You are such a jerk, you know that? I hate you!" she joked, turning in his embrace.

"I love you too." He smiled, tapping the corners of her mouth with his finger and smoothing his thumb over her full pout. "but if you threaten to withhold the promise land from me again, I may just lose my mind?"

She laughed. "The promised land, Sam? Really?" she said, leaning into his touch. Mercedes grew enchanted with his fingers, kissing the pad of his thumb. "I didn't know I was that good."

He nodded, enjoying the feel of her lips and grabbing her hands to offer kisses of his own."Yeah, you were always that good, since the very first time. I made you better, though." He smirked, pulling her tightly to his chest. His hands sprawled across her back, skating lower and lower to the curve of her backside. "Perfection does come with practice, after all."

"Really now? Someone's overly confident. Might have to test that theory." Her small hands glided down his chest, finding their way under the flap of his shirt to feel his back muscles ripple and tense from her touch.

"I'm game. Anything for science." His mouth latched on to her neck, laving her skin with his rough tongue. He sucked on that spot right at the base of her neck, the one that always made her tremble violently in his hands. Sure enough, he felt the telling shudder, and couldn't help but smile in delight against her skin.

"Science? You mean like chemistry?" she asked, slightly in a daze. It wasn't fair for him to do the things he was doing to her. Not now, when her friends were feet away and they were in a school hallway with no privacy to moan and touch like she wanted.

His head lifted from her shoulder, brushing cheeks, then noses, as his eyes danced for her. "Chemistry….Definitely." Her lids fluttered shut as he closed the gap, anxiously awaiting the soft push of her glossed lips against his own. Every part of him ached for her touch….

"OMIGOD! THERE'S MERCEDES!"

Crowds of screaming fans made a running break down the hallway, scrambling toward their newest celebrity.

"You have got to be fucking KIDDING me!" exclaimed Sam. Apparently, Fate decided to make Sam her bitch today and interrupt every opportunity for alone time with his girlfriend.

Before he could tighten his hold, she was pulled out of his arms, shrouded by cameras and outstretched programs eager for a signature from the diva.

"OMIGOSH, YOU WERE INCREDIBLE!"

"YOUR SONGS WERE SO ROMANTIC!"

"YOUR VOICE IS HEAVEN!"

"WHERE'S SAMMY?"

Mercedes laughed awkwardly at all the attention. "Umm..he's right over there. We were just—"

"SAMMY!" The hoard quickly yanked him into the circle before he could react, squishing the shell-shocked couple together and taking millions of pictures with their cameras and phones. A telltale Jew fro made its way to the front of the crowd, notepad and pencil ready for a hot story.

"Sam and Mercedes, how does it feel to be McKinley's new it couple?" screamed Jacob ben Israel's nasal voice, struggling to be heard over the noisy crowd.

"I don't know!" "It feels okay, I guess!"

Sam and Mercedes quickly recovered from the initial shock and were quickly growing used to the unusual attention. They even managed to smile and pose for some pictures.

"Why, you guys are bigger than Brangelina! Than Beyonce and Jay-z! Sonny and Cher! Ike and Tina!" Both shot him judging side-eyes. "Okay, so the last two didn't exactly end well, but you get the point! You're….You're…"

"Samcedes!" cried a far off voice.

"Yeah, Samcedes!

"We love you guys!"

The reporter's eyes widened in delight. "Samcedes! Brilliant! I can see it now, headlines reading _Samcedes: the moniker for McKinley's newest celebrity couple!, The diva and the dork find love at last!, Samcedes for the win!, Ebony and Ivory find their harmony! _I can't wait to get this story on the presses." He laughed maniacally, jotting down all his sure-fire ideas.

A small murmur of chanting began, building slowly from the back of the crowd, making its way to the couple's ears as it grew louder and stronger.

…_.Sam-cedes, Sam-cedes, Sam-cedes, Sam-cedes….._

They said it faster, higher, until it echoed in the hallways and surrounded the blushing couple in a sea of voices praising their union.

….._Samcedes, Samcedes, Samcedes, Samcedes!_

The cheer ended in a whooping, joyful cry and loud applause, making Mercedes hide her face from the surreal delight of it all.

"So, is this how it's going to be, once your actually famous?" Sam whispered to her.

"I guess so" she whispered back bashfully, then turned serious. "Why? Too much?"

Sam looked to the crowd, envisioning a life of people clapping for them, for her, and their accomplishments. He saw far more than high school students in the sizable crowd. He saw red carpet rolled out under their feet, surrounded by celebrity photographers and reporters begging for a glimpse of his lady and him. He saw her in a gorgeous gown and towering heels, emphasizing the stretch of calf and thigh peeking from the slit of her dress as she posed for the cameras. He saw Grammys and Emmys and daytime talk shows of her success, all with her sporting a dazzling smile and his nearly as dazzling engagement ring on her finger.

No, it wasn't too much. Not for his future wife, who was destined to be a star.

"Just promise me you'll always save me a spot next to you on the red carpet. And I demand first picture, no exceptions." He joked, putting her at ease. If this was her future, it wouldn't be too much for him to handle, either. Besides, he cleaned up pretty nicely in a tux, if he could say so himself.

Mercedes just smiled and leaned into him when he answered, enjoying the solace of his warmth. She knew then, in the midst of all the craziness, that Sam would always be her home. Life would never get to hectic or unbearable, as long as he stood beside her and held her strong. He may have found a renewed sense of hope in her, but in him she had found the safe haven to dream. Standing next to him, holding his hand and leaning in his arms, she could never fall, no matter how high she chose to fly.

**O-O**

After nearly an hour of signing autographs and posing for pictures, Mercedes and Sam had finally had enough of the limelight. It had been a long, emotionally exhausting day, and all they wanted to do was find some private time to be together.

Mr. Schue, being unusually perceptive of Mercedes' feelings at the moment, ushered the crowd away from her and toward the door, urging them home.

"Alright guys, I think that's enough for today. I'm sure Mercedes is tired from her performance and you all have school tomorrow. Besides, it's already way past the hour for you guys to be here." He cried, glancing at the wall clock. It was nearly seven and already starting to get dark.

With reluctant groans, the crowd complied, flashing some quick last-minute pictures before they cleared the halls. Once the place was sound, Mercedes hurriedly grabbed her change of clothes and ran to the bathroom, eager to get out of her formal gown and heels. When she emerged, she wore a simple black and white off the shoulder tee, black skinny jeans and boots, looking decidedly more relaxed. With a smile, she walked toward her boyfriend and laced her fingers with his, happily swinging their hands as they walked toward her car.

"Oh my gosh, Sam! That was…beyond anything I expected today!" she laughed.

His smile was easy. "I know, imagine me! Damn, if you were shocked, I was nearly on the floor. You rocked my world today, darlin'!" he chuckled.

"Well, I do aim to please." She replied, coyly biting her lip when she looked into his eyes.

"Is that right?" he replied, catching her double meaning. She smiled and said nothing, shaking her head as she pushed through the double doors of the building. She walked on to unlock the car and had to bite her grin when Sam fell back a step to watch her. She purposefully fumbled with the keys, waiting for him to come closer.

"You know, I'm surprised at you, Evans. We've been interrupted three times already, and now, when we have the perfect chance to be together, you barely touch me!" she argued, playfully angry. Getting no response, she sighed and opened her car door, stopping when it opened halfway.

She moved to turn to him. "I mean, in case you haven't noticed, we're alone and—"

"I know." He shoved her against the door, stealing her breath with a gasp, and took her lips in a rough kiss. Hands palmed her thighs, squeezing and caressing until they met her hip. His fingers detoured to the underside of her ass, lifting her and wrapping her legs around his waist in one swift motion. His lips and thrusting hips pushed her back, pressing her against the cool metal, and he kept her spread with the hard force of his movements, dry humping her through her tight jeans. She tore her lips away when the need for air demanded it, but he didn't slow for a second, kissing down her jaw and neck and burying his panting mouth in the slope of her shoulder.

"Oh god!" she screamed, making him work harder. She felt every inch of him, hard and hot under his blue denim, and pressed against his ass with her heels to urge him on.

"Did you think, for one second, I didn't realize we finally had time to ourselves?" he answered his rhetorical question with a hard rub of his groin against her clothed slit.

"No" she gasped, answering him. But words were unnecessary. He wanted her panting in his ear and clawing his back, as eager to have him as he was to have her. Right now, the only thing he craved was her screams.

He bit into her soft flesh, delighting in the shrill cry from her lips as he rode her body. The friction they made squeaked and groaned against the jeep door and rude Sam sincerely hoped her spiked belt buckle scratched the shiny surface of the car. He wanted her to see it every day and remember, to want.

Mercedes was the first of the two to regain her bearings, opening her eyes and realizing that they were still in the school parking lot and not in the privacy of a bedroom.

"Sam…Sam, we've got to stop, we can't" she protested, all while whining her hips against his as he moved.

"Why?" he panted.

"We're still in the parking lot, baby. Someone can see us."

His mind couldn't comprehend her words. His lips had found a particularly soft, delicious curve of her cleavage. "Who? Who will see us?" he said between kisses.

"Mmmph! Umm…" she had forgotten their names. Damn it, she had just seen them! What were their names again? Better yet, what was the question? Was there a question? Sam's teeth slowly pulled down her top and his tongue furrowed between her breasts, tingling her nipples alert and ready for his mouth to come their way. She was sure there was a problem with what they were doing, it just refused to come back to her.

He nibbled down her ample bosom, stopping to suck the pert nipple that nudged against his lower lip. Even the feel of her clothed was enough to set him off. He could never get enough of her touch, of their bodies rubbing against each other, whether they were heavily robed or skin to skin.

But it was her skin he wanted now. Mindless hands wandered under her top, smoothing over the round of her stomach and wiggling under her underwire, craving the feel of her pert bud rolling between his fingers. She sprung up again when he reached his destination, remembering why she had been so anxious earlier.

"Baby, we've gotta go somewhere…somewhere safer than this."

He didn't care to protest. "Your house?" he asked, preoccupied with how her little nubbin stiffened and puckered under his touch. His idle hand traveled south, unbuttoning her jeans and making its way in. He was curious to see what other parts of her were tight and warm, and how they felt in contrast.

"Can't. Parents." Her answers grew breathless and broken when she felt him go lower, fingering the waistband of her panties.

"My place?" he offered, talking of the hummel-hudson residence. Sam was so grateful to Burt for letting him stay and he tried really hard to follow the rules and regulations of the household, so he wouldn't cause trouble. But Sam didn't care at all about rules and regulations at the moment. He just wanted _in, _and if Mercy needed a bed, he knew where he had one to spare. He palmed her soft curls and rubbed against them, parting the slick lips they covered as he moved to his destination.

"No. Burt is…aahh!" his long, nimble fingers slid into her wet heat, stroking smoothly and expertly inside her. She clenched eagerly around him, already dripping in anticipation of his touch. His hips slowed, her breathing stopped, and all that existed were Sam's three digits and the calculated rotation of his wrist as he twisted them in her pussy. Her mouth grew slack, breathing in harsh pants, and he opened his own, mirroring hers, to catch her breaths. His tongue darted from the caverns of his mouth to her own, capturing her in another lustful, violent kiss. He searched her mouth with confidence, knowing which corners to explore and places to lick and tease. At the sudden sound of voices she pulled away, before they were too far gone and got caught.

"Sam! We really can't. Not here." She said firmly, pushing him away a good distance and standing on her feet. Her refusal wasn't unkind, but it didn't ease the sting of rejection or stop Sam's face from dropping in obvious disappointment. Feeling badly, she straightened her clothes and reached up to touch his cheek.

"Thirty minutes? My house? My brother's gone for the week, so the attic's empty. And I bet we could get away with a lot while my parents are home, if we're really quiet. " Mercedes offered with a sly smile.

Sam perked up immediately. "I'm in! My my, Ms. Jones, since when are we so reckless?" he teased.

"Since I found a boyfriend who couldn't wait until we left my grandma's retirement party to dick me senseless in the restroom over summer, that's when!" she teased back.

"Ah yes, Granny Nettie's retirement party. Good times, good times." He smiled, recalling fondly how close they had come to getting caught by the guest of honor herself. It was risky, but fun as hell.

Mercedes shoved his shoulder, laughing at the dreamy look on his face. "Perv!" she laughed, stopping suddenly when the talking figures they heard earlier came toward them.

Three tall jocks came running toward them, donning their letterman jackets and bright smiles aimed at Mercedes. They looked buff, handsome, and too eager. Sam hated them immediately.

"Mercedes! I'm so glad we caught you!" said the middle jock, a brunette with short, boyish locks and a perfect smile. "I'm Donovan, and my buddies and I saw your performance and were blown away! We're already huge fans! Do you mind signing some stuff for us before you go? We tried to catch you in the auditorium, but Mr. Schue kicked us all out."

Mercedes smiled genuinely at her unlikely fan. "Um..sure! I don't mind at all! It would be my pleasure. What do you want me to sign?"

"It's actually one of the dvds I bought outside of the auditorium. That Jorge did some great film work!" Mercedes internally rolled her eyes at the mention of Santana's cousin. She hadn't forgotten to kill her later for that one.

"Well, we bought a couple of them, nearly a case actually, that I have in my truck." He scratched his face, blushing like mad at his confession. " I was hoping you can sign some of them for me? I know they're gonna be worth a ton of money one day! I'm all the way on the other side near the field, but I can run and go get them if you want!" he offered eagerly, turning to make his way toward the school before Mercedes's hand halted him.

"No, it's okay! I can follow you. I don't mind going out of my way for a fan." She smiled, a bit wearily. The performance had tuckered her out a bit, but Mercedes figured she could stretch herself a little bit more. She couldn't help it, she was a giver by nature. Plus, long hours and demanding fans would be a regular thing several years down the line, so she might as well get used to it now.

"Can't this wait until tomorrow? After all, you've had a pretty long day." Said Sam, tightly. He knew his girl and how big her heart was, but she had to stop killing herself for others. She looked like she was in dire need of a warm, comfy bed and a cuddle, and Sam was more than happy to provide it. Besides, his distrust of the jocks was second nature now, after all the things they've done to glee club.

"Baby, I'm fine. It's just a couple of signatures! Besides, it's just across the parking lot, it's not far at all" she argued, arming her car and preparing to leave.

"Mercedes, you look about ready to keel over"

"I'm fine, Sam. Really. I'm a big girl, I can handle it" she answered, dismissing him.

"But we had _plans_" he pushed, slightly irritated.

Her sharp brow challenged him, not liking his tone. "Which we will have plenty of time to get to _once I finish_" she said. What was the hell was the matter with him? Why was he being so difficult?

"I really think this could wait until tomorrow, Mercy. It's almost dark." He pushed. Sam knew how he sounded, and truthfully, he knew he was being a pain in the ass over something so simple. But something about it made his stomach knot uncomfortably and pushed him to _insist _she stayed. He couldn't name why, but something felt decidedly off.

The boys looked wary. "Look, if this is really a bad time, we could just…."

"No! You stay right there, Donovan. I'll be there shortly." Mercedes commanded, never losing her focus on Sam. "Why are you acting like this, Sam? I thought we agreed to trust each other." She said, reading his weird behavior as signs of jealousy.

"I do trust you. It's just…." He looked pointedly toward the trio of jocks pointedly, dropping his voice so only Mercedes could hear. "I can't explain it, but I don't think you should go with them. I just don't feel good about it. I don't trust them, Mercy."

"What is there not to trust, Sam? They never did anything to hurt me or anyone I know! You, of all people, should understand that being a Jock doesn't automatically mean you're a bully." She reasoned, matching his tone.

"Well, if you insist on going, I'm going with you." He grabbed her arm, done with arguing, but she snatched it away quickly.

"The hell you are, Sam! I don't need you following me everywhere I go, tracing my every move, every time you _feel _like I need protecting. I can take care of myself!" she yelled, pissed as hell. She had never seen this side of him before, and frankly it irritated her to no end. She had gone through months of the same thing with Shane, always calling her or texting her, pretending he was worried when he was really making sure she wasn't with some boy when he wasn't around. She refused to go through that crap again.

"Mercedes, it wasn't a question!"

" Sam, I said I'm fine and I meant it!"

Eddie, the blond of the trio, stepped in and spoke up. "Really guys, it's not a problem. Sam, if you don't want your girl around us, we understand. Jocks don't have the best reputation with other people's girlfriends." He laughed, humorless.

"Yeah, we just wanted a couple of signatures, but if it's going to cause all this.." chimed Larry, the shorter one.

The couple barely heard them. They were locked in a battle of wills, eyes hard and challenging the other to move first, to defy. They could be equally as strong willed when the situation demanded, and neither of them was willing to back down, even on something as seemingly basic as this.

Mercedes was the first to break the silence, not with words, but with a quick, sharp finger. "Donovan…" she started, keeping her steely gaze on Sam.

"Yes, Mercedes?"

She smiled defiantly. If they were going to play this game, she would be the one to set it in motion. And Mercedes would be damned if she didn't win. "Here's what's gonna happen. I'm going to follow you to your car—"

"—with me behind you." Sam deadpanned, firm in his word.

"—with my boyfriend waiting patiently in the car—" she said louder, correcting him and his rude interruption. "—and I am going to sign _every last one_ of your dvds. " She included for good measure, pleased when she saw his jaw tense._ Consider the first piece moved, Sammy._ _Check._

"Then, because you three are such wonderful fans, I'm going to take a picture with you guys, for you to keep. In your lockers. _Of us together." _She said pointedly, to irritate him further. "and you will escort me, like the gentlemen you are, back to my car, so my boyfriend and I can go on our merry way."

"Wrong." Sam spat, reigning in his fire with a twitch of his strong jaw. "I'm driving over, waiting for you _by their car, _and picking you up my damn self." He nodded when the cocky slant of her eye widened to shock. _I can play just as hard, baby. Maybe, harder. Check. _

"Fine." Mercedes yelled through gritted teeth. " you stay out front and wait for me. But if you so much as leave that car and try to monitor my every move, I can't promise you'll be my boyfriend when we leave." With his locked jaw and shocked eyes in her wake, she marched determinedly toward the jocks and called them to move with a crook of her diva finger, never missing a step. _Checkmate._

Sam huffed and ran a frustrated hand through his blond locks, shaking his head at their stubbornness and the pointless fight. Shock quickly turned to sadness at her words, her threat to end them, but he was still too angry to succumb to it. Pulling out his spare key, he hopped into the driver's side with a violent slam of her door, starting her car and blasting his favorite angst-ridden radio station to drown out his sorrows.

**O-O**

Donovan and his boys nearly ran to keep up with her feverish pace. Her shorter legs moved like the wind when she stormed off and the three athletes behind her were huffing shamefully behind her, trying to call her name and slow her down.

"Mercedes! Wait up!"

"Please!"

But she didn't hear them. She couldn't hear anything, not with the angry swish of blood pulsing in her ears. How dare he try to control her? Didn't he know who the hell he was dealing with? Sure, she knew he could be a bit possessive, aggressive even. His fight and passion were things she loved about him. But never once, in their whole relationship, had he tried to dictate where she went or who she hung out with. _That _was where she drew the line.

She scoffed to herself, remembering his words. He _felt like_ she shouldn't go. That's exactly how it started with Shane. First, he felt like it was unsafe for her to walk to her car alone after school, though she'd done it plenty of times before they dated. But she dismissed it as him being a sweet, caring boyfriend and let him walk her. Then, he _felt _like she shouldn't walk the halls without him. Soon, he was following her everywhere and sending her texts nearly every period, wanting an update on what she was doing and who was around her. It drove her crazy! And hearing Sam come to her with the same nonsense tossed her over the edge of frustration.

Why couldn't he be reasonable? Didn't he know she had more common sense than to put herself in harm's way? She angrily brushed away the idle tears that fell down her cheeks, hating the way they made her feel. She deserved her anger, her anger was justified. At least, that's what she kept telling herself as more tears stung her eyes and dripped off her cheeks, hitting her collarbone. But after a while, her body grew weary and she couldn't find the energy to stay mad.

It was in the same moment, when the last of her anger subsided and trembled out her system, that her thumb idly brushed against her ring finger, brushing the small knot of the bow at its center. It was the moment her sadness took precedence, and she cried silently and uninhibited.

She missed him already, his voice and his warmth and the security of his arms. Even in anger, everything in her argued her logic about him being like Shane. He was everything _but _Shane. Sam was loving and protective where Shane was overbearing and restricting, and he didn't deserve the parallel. If anything, the promise tied around her finger, sitting comfortably where it belonged, was proof enough that he was different.

Looking at the small bow and fiddling with its tail, she smiled, realizing that she had a lot to be grateful for. Namely, a boy who cared enough to remind her she was important, as important as the people she put herself out for. He always put her needs before his own.

With a last flick to the bow loop, Mercedes had made her decision. It was time for her to return the favor.

Stopping to dry her eyes, she turned back around to go to him, but stopped in her tracks when she saw the jocks bent over, panting like they had run a marathon.

"Are you guys okay?"

It took them a minute to catch their breaths, but when they did, Donovan was the first to answer.

"Was trying to tell you" he said, still a bit breathless. "That my car's over this way" He pointed to the row of cars next to them, singling out his black pick-up truck parked two cars away from where Mercedes stood.

"We were calling your name over and over to direct you, but you didn't answer. It seemed like your mind was somewhere else…"

"Oh. Well, I guess I knew where we were going." She chuckled, embarrassed. "I get like that sometimes, when I'm really focused. I can't hear anything else"

"I assume it's about the boyfriend?" inquired Eddie, with a charming grin. At the mention of boyfriend from the handsome blond who looked eerily similar to Sam , Mercedes subconsciously compared the two. Taking in his crooked grin and rakish stubble of beard, she decided Sam won by a mile. He pulled off boyish charm with far more ease and far less hair gel.

"Um, yeah. I actually have to go back and tell him how sorry I am. The whole argument was pretty stupid."

"What? You're not gonna let him sweat it out?" he asked, genuinely shocked. "He was clearly the wrong one in that argument. "

"Clearly." Larry agreed, standing behind him.

"Now guys, I don't know. Can you blame him? If I had a woman as beautiful and talented as Mercedes on my arm, I wouldn't let her out of my sight." said Donovan, boldly eyeing the curves of her body with a flirty grin. "That is, if I may be so bold."

"Can't argue there."

"Totally see your point, Don."

She smiled kindly at the compliment. "You guys are sweet. But, that kind of flirting is exactly what he was trying to protect me from. Don't prove him right. He will kick your asses." She laughed, only half joking. She knew he really would, if he got the chance.

"Oh god, we don't want any more problems! He hates us already!" Donovan joked, throwing up his hands. "I'll tell you what, we won't keep you long. Just sign a couple for us before we leave and we'll send you back safe and sound." He gestured to the back of his pick-up with a sweep of his hand, looking at her expectantly.

"Yeah! Besides, he should be on his way soon. Gotta do it quick before he sees us!" Eddie humored.

Mercedes rolled her eyes, walking toward the back of the truck. "Don't be fooled, gentleman. I can hold my own. You might need to fear me more than him if you tried anything."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." Said Donovan, flipping the hatch and retrieving the box of discs. "You don't seem like the passive type at all. You're definitely a fighter. Far more feisty. You don't just take things lying down."

"Damn straight!" she laughed, missing the double entendre hidden in his stare as she pulled out the first plastic case. "Now, who am I making this one out to?"

"To me, of course!" Donovan said, moving closer to peer over her shoulder. "Just write, _To Donovan, my biggest fan and the sexiest man alive." _

"Oh god, you really want to get in trouble!" she giggled, pushing him away. "Well, I'm sorry. You're not my type."

"Ouch, Ms. Jones!" he clutched his heart in mock pain. "Are you trying to kill me by breaking my heart? Crush all my dreams? Next thing you're gonna tell me is there's no chance between us…."

"Well, I am practically engaged…" she flashed the small tied ring on her finger.

"Shut the hell up!" he screamed, taking her hand to inspect it further. "Evans gave you this? Well, he's a smart man, marking his territory." He kissed her hand charmingly, looking into her eyes.

"Donovan, stop it. Take it down a notch, okay?" Mercedes warned, clearly serious. His kiss gave her uncomfortable tingles on her skin. "If you don't, I'm not signing."

He dropped her hand. "Okay, Okay! I'm sorry, I went too far. I just-" he looked down, fiddling with his hands. "You're just so beautiful, I couldn't resist." At her wary glance, he hurriedly continued. "But, if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop."

She was unsure at first, feeling the urge to leave and find Sam, but Donovan seemed sincere and did give her space, so she decided to forgive the discrepancy this once. "It's alright. Just don't let it happen again. Now, I messed up the last one. What am I writing on this one?" she signed her name as she waited for him to answer.

His eyes fell on her frame, focused and predatory, as she wrote. "Make it say, _To Donovan…"_

"_To Donovan…" _she repeated, focused on the sharp cursive of her hand as she spelled his name.

He stepped back and circled behind her, barely an inch away. He closed his eyes and subtly smelled her cologne, loving how the notes of apple and vanilla blended with her natural scent. His tongue darted out to lick his parched lips, dry from hunger.

"…_The one fan…"_

"…_.the one fan…" _she sing-songed, chuckling, still blissfully unaware of Donovan's movements or the change in his demeanor. He eyed her exposed shoulder, the smooth expanse of brown skin laid before him, and reached out to touch her. Common sense and reason stopped him when he was barely an inch away. He didn't wish to startle her, not yet. His fingers danced in the air instead, floating just above, outlining the curve of her shoulder and scoop of her neck.

"…_that's gonna get me in trouble." _He smiled wickedly behind her, close enough to smell her hair and feel small tendrils tickle the tip of his nose in the slight breeze.

"Really, that's what you're going with?" she finished, dotting the last word with a knock of her marker.

"Isn't it true though? I mean, you said it yourself earlier. I'm practically sin on legs." He murmured, dropping his voice to a seductive whisper. Every fiber in Mercedes's body became alert in an instant. By the time she realized that he was behind her, she felt his breath on her neck and the heat of his body dangerously close to touching hers.

"Donovan, what did I say? Now, you've gone too far. I'm leaving." She shifted to move, but he grabbed her hip and pulled her back, holding her into place as his other hand caressed her thigh.

"Hey! What's your hurry? It's just a little fun. I promise no one else will have to know." He whispered in her ear, skimming her hip until he was dangerously close to her center. Mercedes yanked his hands from her body, trying to turn in his embrace, but he violently grabbed her shoulders and kept her firm, sliding down to comfortingly squeeze her arms.

"Hey, just relax! I promise I won't hurt you. I'm just _such _a huge fan." He whispered. She gasped when he pressed his pelvis into her, grinding his semi-hardness against her ass.

She couldn't breathe. And she struggled to move her arms, but he held them down with an iron grip. She couldn't kick to get away, he had her legs trapped between him and the edge of the truck. And she realized far too late that Eddie and Larry hadn't followed behind them. She was alone with her crazed attacker, and all her attempts to wrench her body from his grasp failed miserably. The sudden cool of the air prickled her skin, alerting her to the fast approaching darkness, speeding the rush of adrenaline through her veins.

She followed her instinct, her last resource. Mercedes screamed from her belly, strong and at the top of her lungs. Donovan, distracted by the feel of her soft body writhing against him, was slow to react to her cries. It was only when his hands crept under her shirt and bra, mauling her bare breasts, that her shrill voice pierced him.

Hands frantically clamored for her mouth, clamping his sweaty palms over her lips in an attempt to silence her. But Mercedes had been gifted with an instrument that could not be quieted with any force of his hand. No matter how tightly he squeezed, he couldn't muffle her sound.

Thinking quick, Donovan bent her over the trunk edge, laying his body and hers flat against the truck. She tried to resist and push back, but he thrust into her painfully, slamming her thighs against the metal edge and propelling her forward, where he wanted her. His forearm and thighs held her down to the truck floor with crushing pressure, forcing her breaths to shallow and quicken, but she still screamed, clinging to the hope of discovery. Hearing her name called again from the distance, Donovan slammed her head against the dirty floor, momentarily blurring her vision as he bent down to whisper.

"Shhh, my dear. We've got to be quiet. Don't want people to get the wrong idea and interrupt us." he spat, hoarse and low. "Besides, we never got to have our fun. And I know you want it. I saw the way you danced for me on that stage, touched yourself for me. Shook that ass right in my face like you wanted me to tame it."

She shook her head and mumbled her protests, trying uselessly to explain that she had never intended tease him, to suggest anything. It was a pointless fight. The boy was too far gone in his delusions and drunken with power to listen to reason.

"I knew, the second I saw you on that stage, that you needed a real man to give you what you needed. Sure, Sammy boy might be what you want, but what your body _needs_ is a hard dicking down and a strong hand to show you who's boss." He unzipped his jeans and rubbed his naked erection against her jeaned ass, nestling himself between her cheeks. "Feel that baby? Big Don's got it all right here."

Fifteen minutes had passed since the fight and Sam had yet to move the vehicle. Leaning against the steering wheel, cool air blasting from the A/C on his heated face, he chose to sit and think over all that just happened, before he made another wrong move and destroyed the relationship.

What had _just_ happened? One minute, they were making out against her jeep, and the next minute, the future of their relationship hung in the balance. Did he say or do something wrong? Did he overstep some unspoken boundary?

All he was trying to do was be a concerned boyfriend and look out for her. And all he said was that she shouldn't go with those guys because they seemed like bad news. Part of him still had a strong feeling that they were, but he shrugged it off dismissively. She was with them now, so what did it matter how he felt?

God, he wished she could have felt the stab in his heart when she said they could be over. He was so tired of the constant struggle to be with her, tired of the games and the waiting. Almost every time they seemed to get closer these days, one obstacle or another seemed to get in their way.

Well, screw those obstacles. He was going to get his woman and they were going to live happily fucking ever after if it took the last breath in his body. And he was going to demand or apologize or beg or whatever it took to convince her that he loves her more than any stupid fight can dictate.

Resolved to pick her up right now and risk the consequences, Sam backed out of the parking space and hit the gas, in search of his woman.

"God, you smell good, babe. Is all of that for me?" he whispered, licking the shell of her ear as she struggled. Her screams had stopped, and her fighting had lost its strength and vigor. She was growing weaker, giving him the advantage he'd hoped for.

"Aren't you tired of fighting what we have, baby? Just let me love you, and you can be on your merry way with your little boyfriend none the wiser." His offer seemed to work, at least in his mind, because she stopped moving altogether. He smiled happily and pressed a quick kiss to the back of her neck.

"Good girl. I knew you'd see it my way." He crooned. Feeling bolder, he held her hands behind her back and flipped her over, throwing his weight on top of her quickly before she had the opportunity to move. His hand was still clamped securely over her mouth

"Now, I'm going to remove my hand. And if you scream, cry, or so much as yelp when I do," her eyes widened in fear when he pulled out the sharp boning knife from his pocket and slowly dragged it across her skin. "I promise to gut your pretty black ass from lip to slit. Do you understand me?" She nodded slowly, fearfully, as the sharp blade rested against her windpipe.

"Good! I'm glad we understand each other!" His large hand left her mouth tentatively, watching every twitch of her lips and move of her jaw that might break their agreement. She gasped and panted for air, hungrily taking in every bit of breath she was denied and letting her lungs expand to their fullest capacity. Donovan still watched, holding the gleaming metal poised and ready in his hands if she decided to scream. When her breaths slowed to normal, she promptly clamped her mouth shut and looked away from him, proving she would comply. Satisfied with her show of submission, the brutish man tucked away his weapon and made quick work of her top, sliding it roughly over her head and shoulders as he held her wrists. Donovan's eyes gleamed when he caught view of her breasts, heaving and clad in black and white lace before him. With an eager smile, he dipped his head and licked nastily across her chest, biting her flesh and pinching her nipples roughly with his fingers.

Mercedes was no fool. She had seen enough news reports and sixty minute specials of moments like this to know how these things go. She had already planned her course of action in the few minutes she was on her stomach and prayed to God above her it would allow her to escape with little bloodshed.

First things first, she decided to take in her surroundings while he was distracted with her body. She heard loud rock music blasting from the radio of the truck, loud enough to drown out any sounds they made in the back. And, she figured she could safely assume the other boys were in the front and passenger seat controlling said radio, acting as Don's watchmen. Quick glances around her revealed no other signs of weapons or restraint, so he didn't plan on tying her up and taking her anywhere else. And he had considerably relaxed his knees and grip on her wrists since she complied, so she may have the upper hand if she chose to spontaneously strike.

The plan? Let him go as far as he could without penetrating, continue to relax and distract him with her faux submission, and choose the opportune moment to strike him in his stomach and groin where he's weakest.

The opportune moment Mercedes banked on was Sam's arrival. Since she could hear very little over the music, Mercedes remained quiet and listened intently for any telling sounds of a vehicle, hoping and praying he would come before it's too late.

**O-O**


	12. Author's Note!

Hello lovely readers!

I felt the need to make this author's note after seeing the reaction to my latest chapter. Just thought I would clarify a few things before I lose my readers. Lol

First, and most importantly, there will be absolutely no mention of actual rape in the next chapter or any chapters following. I repeat, THERE WILL BE NO RAPE. I'm an angst girl through and through, but I do not have the heart nor the emotional energy it takes to write a scene like that. Plus, I love Mercedes too much as a character to ever envision putting her through that.

So, why the assault?

Well, the commitment they made to each other earlier in the chapter was important and well placed. They vowed forever to one another and committed their loyalty and their love to only each other, throughout high school and beyond it. That being said, forever is anything but romance and roses. This pinnacle moment is going to test their vow of commitment, make them question the true resilience of their relationship, and ultimately make them stronger than they were before. Sometimes, in moments like the one I depicted, you learn just how deeply you truly care for someone. If they can survive this, they can survive almost anything.

Secondly, I wanted to point out the major flaw in their reunion, and that was that Mercedes never took the time to deal with her break up from Shane. Yes, I know he's nobody's favorite, but I stick by the belief that there are redeeming qualities about him that we, as fans, never got the chance to see. Namely, that he is a person of integrity and has a genuinely good heart. You will see more of this side of him later in the chapter.

However, he is also a teenage boy who is possessive and jealous of any boy who comes near his girlfriend. It's part of the reason they would never work, because Mercedes is such an independent and loving spirit who loves to connect with people. This character flaw I gave him is a big part of why they would never work. This, plus the infidelity, is why I broke them up.

Now, because Mercedes never took the time to fully analyze her new relationship with Sam, beyond the love they share, she mistakes his love and concern for her as the possessive/ jealous traits we saw in Shane. The danger of jumping into a new relationship so soon is that you tend to draw unreasonable parallels between the old and new. Remember, in my story, Mercedes never took the break she needed to figure out her feelings like canon Mercedes did. We know as an audience that Sam isn't anything like Shane in that sense, but this is the first time in my story that Mercedes has experienced this side of Sam, as a protective boyfriend. She begins to understand the difference later on in the chapter and will fully understand throughout successive chapters, as he helps her recover from the ordeal.

Also, Sam didn't handle the situation that well either, though he wasn't wrong to be suspicious about the jock's intentions. He also needs to learn that he can't _demand_ compliance from Mercedes, he has to ask it of her. As mature as their relationship is, this is the one character flaw of Sam's that shows his slight immaturity. His authoritative nature is sexy in certain situations, but it can also be ill-received in the wrong moment, like it was in the parking lot. Plus, they are both strong willed people who have a firm understanding of self and what they want. There was no way Mercedes was going to back down when someone tells her she _can't _do something unless it's from her parents or Jesus himself. Sam will learn to change his approach with her to get what he wants out of her. Pulling and grunting just won't cut it outside of the bedroom, Sammy.

Lastly, I decided to include assault in my fic for more personal reasons. I was raised by two victims of violent sexual assault and rape, and their stories have haunted me and inspired me all throughout childhood. They are two of the strongest, most resilient people I know, but at the same time two of the most fragile and sensitive people I know. I've always wanted to give stories like theirs a voice and needed a character as layered and perfectly imperfect as they were. Mercedes and Sam, for me, are two people who fit that exactly. I believe they have a love that can and will surpass anything and an understanding of each other that will get them through the rough, irrational, angry times that will come. It might sound silly or crazy, but they feel so much like the two people I mentioned, the most important people in my life.

I hope this all made sense. Feel free to PM or review with your opinions and Ideas!

And I promise I only have good ahead for them. Just stay with me, okay? I won't let you down.

Hugs and kisses dearies!

KurlyQ722


	13. Chapter 12 Love's Mending Power

**Update guys! I hope you enjoy it. **

**Thank you for all the PMs and emails in support of my story and the journey I'm taking our couple on. A special thank you to the brave souls who openly shared their stories of sexual assault and survival. Your strength and courage inspire me in so many ways and I consider it an honor and privledge to tell your story. **

**Now, fair warning: this must get worse and more confusing before it gets better, so bear with me dearies. You'll understand what I mean as you read. But hopefully, the ending of this chapter leaves you with a better taste in your mouth than the last. It definitely left me with some hope when I finished writing it. **

**As always, send me your reviews and opinions! They are the chocolate on the hot fudge sundae of my creative work. =) **

**Enjoy!**

The anger and sadness had subsided, but Sam couldn't seem to shake the gnawing sense of dread swirling in the pit of his stomach as he drove to Mercedes. It had been there, pushing him, since those jocks arrived, but the argument had distracted him and he never got the chance to address why he felt the way he did. But the closer he came to Donovan's car, the more it bothered him, overwhelmed him until he nearly tripped over himself from jumping out of the car so fast and sprinting toward the truck as he parked. He couldn't explain it, but he felt the need to run to her. Everything in him screamed that time was of the essence.

The blasting rock music from the car made him wince and slowed his strides. Scanning the outside of the vehicle, he saw no obvious sign of his girlfriend, just two of the trio of jocks he saw earlier. His instinct told him to check the back, but the two boys caught sight of him and jumped out of the truck to stop him before he had a chance to further investigate.

"Well, Well. Look who it is, Larry! Golden boy," mocked Eddie, speaking loudly over the blasting music.

"Come to save the day?" Larry added, matching his volume. "Can't you take a hint, Evans? The little lady needs space!"

They moved in on him, blocking his way to the back with their bodies and a stern cross of their arms. But Sam was undeterred.

"Where the hell is Mercedes?" he screamed, pulse pounding against his temple as he grew more anxious. He couldn't see or hear her. Something was definitely off.

His anxiety increased with Larry's smug laugh. "Let's just say she's….busy at the moment. She's..um…"

"Entertaining a fan with her _many _talents" laughed Eddie, earning a high five from his jock buddy.

Sam lunged for them before he could think about it. "WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?"

Both jocks grabbed him by the collar and threw him back, bodies still blocking his way.

"Woah, Woah! Easy, Evans! So tense!" teased Larry with a sly grin.

"Yeah, don't be so selfish! After all, you know how we roll…" Eddie said, popping the collar of his letterman as he came face to face with the blond. "…when one of us gets ass like that, we gotta share the wealth! I promise you'll get her back safe and sound when we're done"

All the blood in Sam's body rushed to his face, deepening his shade as the jock spoke. Fists clenched and trembling with anger, he felt his muscles tense; alert, ready for the pounce, waiting for the opportune moment. Eddie, enjoying the torment, stepped forward and chucked Sam's chin with a laugh, looking back to share the joke with his buddy.

That proved to be Eddie's first mistake, for Sam pounced and clocked his jaw with a hard swing of his fist, knocking the jock down with an audible crack of bone.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Sam screamed, kicking him blindly in the stomach and face while he was on the ground. Larry jumped in and pushed Sam away, throwing in a few punches of his own in his face to disorient him. Larry pushed him against the van, knocking him repeatedly until his lip and face was bloodied and his struggles weakened. Eddie slowly stood up, wiping the blood dripping from his own mouth with a growing sinful smirk as he watched the spectacle.

"You trying to fucking cross us, Evans? Do you know who the hell you're dealing with?" Larry screamed between each connect of his fist with Sam's face. With one hard punch to his nose, he knocked Sam to the ground, bleeding and bruised.

Sam coughed hard, choking on the metallic twinge of blood pooling in his mouth and dripping down from his nose. He struggled to breathe and fought to stand, but he remembered his girl was in trouble and pushed himself to his feet with a renewed vigor. He lunged and wrapped his hands around Larry's throat, pressing hard into the bulge of his Adam's apple as he slammed his head repeatedly against the truck. Eddie made his way toward them, but Sam threw a swift kick to the shorter man's crotch before he could stop him, forcing him to his knees. Sam looked back to the man in his clutches and smiled smugly when he saw his opponent go cross-eyed. With another hard slam of his head, Sam waited until Larry's eyes refocused and locked them with his own.

"Don't you ever, EVER, even fucking think of touching my woman again! If you even THINK of it, I swear the next time we meet you'll end up in a body bag." Sam spat in his face, before knocking him to the ground with one last punch, rendering him unconscious. Eddie was still groaning on the floor, rolling back and forth as he cupped his injured groin.

Sam whipped his head around wildly, wincing when he felt the slight twinge in his neck from the impact of his fall.

"MERCEDES!" he screamed, rushing to the back of the truck as fast as his small limp could carry him.

"MERCEDES!"

By now, Donovan had wormed his way inside panties, cupping and squeezing her bare mound. He grinned and she felt nauseated when he found her slick and wet from his ministrations. She struggled anew against his probing fingers, but he shoved her body back down with the force of his weight. He had his fingers poised, rubbing her clit and ready to piston inside her.

"See, I knew you wanted it." He whispered nastily in her ear, shoving her down once more to assert his dominance. "Stop fighting it. It would be far less painful for both of us."

The fear and shame of impending penetration and the reality of rape stared her down with black, emotionless eyes. Little hope broke down the last of her resolve, wracking her body in silent shakes and soundless sobs that constricted her throat,

"God, _please….."_ she whispered to the heavens, praying for the divine intervention she'd rested her faith on her entire life. There was a God, she knew, but could he hear her in the midst of such desolation? In her cries from hell, trapped beneath the sweaty crush of limbs and sinful intentions of a stranger, would he look down upon her in pity and come to her aid?

Suddenly, just as his grubby fingers slid down her vulva to probe her opening, they heard the sound of a voice approaching. It grew closer and louder with each second, taking shape and form in words that were still garbled by the overpowering music. Donovan drew his hand out of her panties immediately and reached for his knife, pressing it tightly to her throat with a silent order to keep quiet as he sharpened his ears to the sound. Mercedes listened just as intently, and her heart soared in her chest when she heard the voice more clearly, one she knew so well, saying a name she'd never tire of hearing.

"MERCY!" screamed Sam, looking all over the parking lot and limping as fast as he could through his pain. "BABY, WHERE ARE YOU? I'M HERE!"

"SHIT!" Donovan's eyes were wild and erratic, searching desperately for a way to escape unscathed. But, Mercedes didn't give him time to think. With the affirmation of her boyfriend's voice, coupled with the way Donovan lifted his hips slightly away from her body when he heard him coming, Mercedes had her small window of opportunity present itself.

It was now or never….

With a sharp jerk of her knee, she kicked her attacker hard in the groin, knocking him off her body. She angled her kick to the left, rolling the sharp knife safely away from her neck as his body keeled over in pain. Mercedes quickly tugged down her shirt and grabbed the knife as it fell from his hands, propping herself on her knees as she pressed the tip of the blade to his jugular.

In his pain, Donovan caught brief sight of her looming over him and moved to fight back, but the swift pain of a second hard kick forced him back to the ground. The strike to his Adam's apple let him know she meant business. Mercedes put the force of her weight on his injury, kneeling on his groin with as she held him down.

"You no good cowardly piece of shit! I should kill your sorry worthless ass on the spot," she spat, meeting his eyes. They held the same fear and desperation in them that hers did less than a minute ago. "But I won't because I am better than that. I'm not a monster like you." She contemptuously glared at him and spat in his face. With one final hard press of her knees, she slowly climbed off of him, knife poised in warning and at the ready. She climbed safely out by the time Sam reached her, and he pulled her close in a protective hug.

"Mercedes! Oh god…." He sighed, peppering her forehead with kisses and whispering silent prayers of thanks against her skin. His heart near exploded from the pulse of emotions coursing through him.

"Sammy…." She whispered, pulling him just as tightly in her embrace, burying her nose in the safety of his chest and taking in his scent. She was safe. What almost happened didn't. Thankfully, Sam followed his instinct instead of her mouth and came to her rescue. Mercedes had never been so happy to be proven wrong in her entire life.

He squeezed her tightly for a few more moments, rocking her from side to side and pressing each curve of her against his skin to recommit it to memory, reassuring his body that she was not a figment of his imagination.

A small, anguished groan from the vehicle interrupted their moment. When Sam took a good look at Donovan, clutching his injured balls, and his lady in a disheveled state of mild undress, his mind filled in the gaps, quickly turning his relief to rage.

"Baby, did he..?" he cupped her face tenderly, searching her eyes for the truth. When they filled with tears and looked down in shame, Sam got all the confirmation he needed. With Hulk-like aggression, he dragged Donovan's sorry form out of the vehicle by his feet, swung him from the vehicle, and threw him down face first in the muddy grass with an audible clap of impact.

"Sam, don't!" she cried weakly, but her voice fell on deaf ears. The culmination of today's events had finally taken its toll, and the thought of Donovan forcing himself on Mercedes was the final fucking straw.

"YOU TOUCHED HER! YOU FUCKING TOUCHED MY MERCEDES!" he screamed, kicking the near unconscious man in the ribs repeatedly. The force of his foot grew swifter and stronger with each kick, and Mercedes had to physically pull him back by his arm when Donovan started coughing up blood.

"SAM, STOP! PLEASE!" she cried, finally catching his attention. Her tears halted his movements.

"Don't do this right now….please? I just…wanna go home. Please just take me home…" She begged, punctuated by a sudden gasp of a sob. "I just….I can't…"

"Okay, baby. Okay, I'm sorry. Shh…." He cradled her close, wiping her tears away with his knuckles as he stroked her hair. "Let's go. Let's get you out of here. C'mon."

He pulled her swiftly through the scene, shielding her eyes from it all with his chest. He picked her up gently and sat her form in the passenger side of her car, closing the door gently and running over to the driver's side. Just as he hurried to start the car, Donovan's sorry form crawled from behind the truck, clutching his ribs.

"YOU'RE DONE, EVANS!" he screamed, spitting a wad of bloody sputum and teeth in the patch of grass. "YOU HEAR ME? YOU AND YOUR GIRL ARE DONE! I'LL FUCKING RUIN YOU!"

The heavy metal blasting still blasting from the large truck grew as erratic and troublingly frightening as his threat, and Sam sped away from the parking lot before they both had the chance to take him over.

He looked over to his silent tearful girlfriend and he sped away, lacing her lifeless fingers in his and kissing her hand

"It's okay, we're safe now baby. He can't get us. I won't let him get to you. You hear me? It'll all be okay." He murmured into her knuckle between kisses, holding it tighter when he felt her tremble in his grasp.

"He won't get to us. He'll never get to us, I swear."

Sam repeated the mantra over and over and refused to stop, even when her shakes eventually ceased and she closed her eyes to rest. He may have started for her effort, but when the veil of anger and rage fell away and she no longer looked to him for comfort, the overwhelming fear and spiraling loss of control took center stage and broke his hardened resolve.

At the end of it all, he was only an eighteen year old boy, young and fragile and inept, who needed just as much reassurance that they could survive this.

The remainder of the drive was quiet and uneventful. Before long, Sam arrived and parked her truck in the Jones driveway, jumping out to open her door. She had opened her eyes once they reached the house, but when Sam reached out his hand to help her out of the jeep, she remained motionless.

"Mercy?" he called, gently brushing away a tendril of hair that blocked his view of her eyes.

But she didn't flinch or blink when he touched her face. He stepped in on one foot, moving closer to meet her eyes.

"Baby, we're here. We've got to get out now, okay?" he told her, slowly and calmly as not to frighten her. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and gently tilted her face to his, pleading with his eyes.

"Baby, please talk to me."

And she answered him, not with words or actions, but a silent pleading look to be held. Without another word, Sam lifted her gently in his arms and cradled her form to his, closing the door with a kick of his foot. Mercedes gently tucked herself away in him, curving in the strength and assurance of his hands as he carried her to the door. She never felt self-conscious or frail in his arms. Rather, in an unusual twist of irony, she felt stronger and the most sure of herself when she let go and let him hold her. The world made better sense with him.

So, when she felt him kick the front door close and lower his arms to put her down, she clung tighter to his neck, refusing to leave. He kissed her hair in silence, understanding, always understanding.

"Upstairs?" he inquired, ready to take her there. He felt her brow furrow against his neck and saw her confusion when she raised her head to face him.

"Or…not?" he said, puzzled by her expression.

Her face calmed and relaxed as she made a decision within herself, looking to him with pleading eyes.

"I don't want to leave your arms yet." She said hoarsely, shaking her head.

"Okay. We can sit on the couch for a while and just cuddle or—"

"No, Sam." She interrupted, smoothing his cheek and looking at him pointedly. "I want to go _upstairs_"

"Upstairs and cuddle?" he said, missing her intentions. "That's fine. The bed's more comfortable anywa—"

"No. No cuddling," she interrupted, cupping his face. "I want you in me, hard and fast and deep. Can you give me that? I need to feel you" she begged him.

He shook his head, worried. "Mercedes, I don't think that's a good-"

Her kiss stopped his protests, colliding with him in a rough, feverish tangle of lips and gnashing teeth. Her fingers ran through and tugged his hair, pressing him closer as she parted his lips with her tongue. As she intimately caressed his mouth, hands instinctively moved to caress her thigh and cup her bottom. She urged him on, swinging her leg over to straddle his hips and clamping a free hand over his groping one, squeezing until his nails dug in her thigh. With a levering of her crossed ankles, she pulled them to the wall behind her, grinding her hips and tugging his shoulders until he slammed fully against her. She grabbed his hands and slapped them on her breasts, moving and circling them with her own until he squeezed her without prompting.

The press of her pert nipple against his palm startled him back to harsh reality. He fought to pry her lips from his and her hands from his face, but she resisted, pushing harder into him. Out of necessity, he used all his strength to force her away, holding her groping hands high in the air.

"Jesus, Mercedes!" he exclaimed, eyes wide in shock. "What the hell? Can we…can we just slow down for a second?"

She bowed her head at his reprimand, face broken. "You don't want me?" she asked, in the smallest voice he had ever heard. His Mercedes never sounded like that, so small and fragile.

"No. Mercy, baby, that's not what I meant." He released her hands, dropping them loosely around his neck.

"I just want to feel you. Is that so wrong? To just want to feel you inside me?" she whispered.

"Of course not," Sam answered immediately, allaying her fears. "I'm just afraid…"

"Of me?" Her large doe eyes searched his face, eager for honesty.

"Never you, you know that." He assured, gently stroking her cheek. "It's just...it may be too soon." He was reluctant to bring up the R-word around her yet. Its reality in their relationship scared him as much as it rattled her.

"You mean, because of today? Because Donovan tried to…." Her silence filled in the necessary blanks. She winced and shook her head, shaking away the thoughts of what could have been.

"But, he didn't—he never—"

"I know." He said, joining his forehead with hers. He could tell by the mild state of undress that Donovan hadn't gotten as far as he wanted. Still, hearing Mercedes confirm it made him sigh in relief. "I just want to make sure you're ready"

She slowly toyed with the hair at his nape, a move that she knew drove him crazy. "Don't I look ready? Feel ready?" she pouted, bringing him closer until their lips were a breath away from touching. "I want you. Right now. And I know you want me." She slowly grazed his lips with her own, briefly nipping his lower lip with her teeth. Sam closed his eyes and licked his lips, flicking the tip of her darting tongue in passing. "Remember the parking lot, Sammy?" she half-whispered, seducing him with the soft purr of her voice. "Remember how wet I was for you? How you pushed me against the door and fingered that pussy you were hungry for it? God, it felt so good to have you pressed against me—pushing my legs apart and rolling those hips I love so much—"

When her fingers tunneled through his hair, Sam fell weak. The memory of their passion crossed over to the present, and his dick rose high and proud in amnesia of the circumstances.

She felt him stir and harden against her and rolled her hips up and down his length. "Mhmm, that's what I want." She moaned before slowly kissing his lips. Sam drowned in her touch, her softness, and the eager roll of her pelvis against the seat of his jeans. Losing the last of his inhibitions, he shoved her harder against the wall and tongue fucked her mouth, caressing every cavern and crevice hidden and untouched. Hands explored her curves, remembering only the burning need to feel her softness, as he gently met her thrusts.

"Yes. Yes, just like that." She praised, biting and pulling his lower lip eagerly before giving another hard kiss. This time, Sam responded with just as much force, and she moaned eagerly in his mouth, gyrating her hips faster to egg him on.

"C'mon baby, harder. I want it." She growled, digging her heels in his thigh as she rhythmically slapped against him.

He turned his head and pulled back before she took his lips again. "No, Mercy, we should stop. This feels wrong." He protested, panting heavily from arousal. "I mean, this can't be okay after—"

Mercedes pecked his lips, perhaps a bit too eagerly, to quiet him. "I'm fine. _We're_ fine. Come on…" she said, bouncing gently in his arms before moving to kiss him again.

"Mercedes, stop." He gently commanded her. "Stop sidestepping all this! Tell me the truth, the whole truth." His eyes bore into her until she broke in a near tearful confession.

"I just want to forget." she said in a quiet voice, her tear brimmed eyes hidden behind the fall of her hair. "I just want to forget the feel of him and remember the feel of you. Can I just have that?"

Her sniffles ripped at his heart. "Oh, Mercy…" he sighed, tears brimming in his own eyes. He felt guilty about everything: her tears, the attack, the near-miss of his rescue. He should have been there, protecting her and defending her, but he let his anger stall him and Mercedes had gotten hurt. It never should have happened, not when he was her boyfriend and less than two hundred feet away from her cries for help.

"Please?" She leaned into his lips, kissing him with less vigor and more heart. Her lips moved slowly down his neck, peppering the curves of his skin with her love and desperation. "Please, Sammy?" she pleaded, lips lingering along his strong jaw and the corner of his pout. She cupped his cheeks and looked honestly into his eyes, allowing a single tear to fall in front of him.

Her voice fell to a whisper. "I need you."

Sam knew, in that moment, that he should have denied her. Reason told him that the moment was all wrong and too much had happened that day for them to make a sound decision. But, when she looked at him with those eyes, he couldn't deny her anything. He needed her just as much, yearned for the assurance of her body pressed securely to his to remind him that she was safe. Part of him wanted to succumb to the fantasy of the moment, that this was simply another day they came home together after school and let themselves go in whispered sweet nothings and passionate kisses. A time where she only cried his name in pleasure, and he didn't come too late but right on time, wrapped in her sweaty arms. He would carry her upstairs, slowly peel her clothes away, and make love to every inch of her ample body and smooth flesh, marred only by the bruises and scratches of their passion.

Following heart over mind, he leaned in and kissed her slowly, giving in to the moment they desperately craved. She sighed against his lips, matching his languid pace as she returned his kisses. Quickly shifting her higher in his arms, he pulled them away from the wall and moved to carry her upstairs, balancing her frame with a familiar ease . She tightened her grip of his hair and mashed his face against hers, kissing him deeper as they climbed. Step by step, the passion intensified, until clothes were strewn all over the top of the stairs leading to the bedroom and moans bounced off the walls of the quiet house.

Guilt and pain were left at the doorway, and Sam quickly kicked the door shut to prevent their return. He tossed her down gently on the plush bed, panting as he climbed between her parted thighs and kissed a trail up her body to meet her lips. Mercedes moaned as their lips joined, simultaneously pressing her damp slit against his hardness. Panties and boxers flew behind them, and Sam rubbed his naked cock briefly against her soaked labia and entered her.

"Mmhph!" her whole body shuddered when he was fully sheathed, stretching her to the hilt and opening her wider to his slow thrusts. Every piston of his hips touched a new place of passion, uncovered a new fire of desire and need until their bodies were a flurry of slapping thighs and heaving chests. She spread her legs wider, holding herself open as he worked her pussy, giving his eager cock uninhibited access without the resistance of her slick thighs. He took full advantage, holding her hips firmly in his grasp and sliding her up and down his erection. Getting closer to the edge, he leaned over her and panted hotly against her temple.

"Ugh, fuck!"

"I'm getting close, Mercy." He warned her, speeding his thrusts when she whimpered under his chin.

Sam pulled his head back and looked down at her, needing to see her face to bring him over the edge.

"I love you." He whispered in her ear. "You're beautiful and God, you smell so good…." He gently licked and nipped her earlobe, pressing a short kiss into her hair as he rode her. Mercedes eyes popped open in shock as his words and actions drudged a sudden, terrible memory to the present.

"_God, you smell good, babe. Is all of that for me?" Donovan whispered, licking the shell of her ear as she struggled. _

"NO!" she yelled and flipped him over with indelible force. Her sudden move sent his already tense body into overdrive, unintentionally toppling them both over the edge in an awkward, rushed climax.

"Mercedes?" he croaked, half question and half moan.

"I'm fine." she said between her panicked breaths, "Sam…Sam….." Mercedes leaned against him in the emotionally jarring afterglow, hoping that her breaths would calm once she felt him next to her and smelled the scent that was distinctly Sam; one of musk and mountain spring soap, not cheap liquor and truck exhaust.

When she finally caught her breath, she raised her head to look into his worried, expectant eyes.

What did he want from her? Sam looked at her as if she was a second away from breaking down and he was preparing himself to comfort her. If she were honest with herself and with him, she would have let the ache in her chest and the sting behind her eyes have their way, but she was far too stubborn to allow it. She was okay. _Okay, _damnit. And she would combat any emotion that told her otherwise.

Sam saw the moment she built her resolve. Her face turned cold and expressionless and her eyes closed off any tell of emotion. The sudden change frightened him and worried him, all at the same time.

"Mercy—"

Without a word, she climbed off his body and curled herself away from him, back pressed against his chest in a near fetal curve of her spine. He gently brushed her hair away from her face, trying to peek over her bare shoulder and see her face.

"Mercy, baby? What happened?"

She just turned her head and buried her face deeper in the plush pillow, ignoring his cries. Sam winced from the sting of her rejection. Had he pushed her too far? Gone too fast? Should he have told her no when she pressed against him and offered her body? He had wanted it, wanted her, for so long that all sound judgment and reason flew out the window when she said she had wanted him back. The hunger in her kiss stirred him in more ways than just the physical, but after today, maybe the sex was just a step too far.

"Mercy, I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot." He said, running an angry hand through his hair. "It was too soon, wasn't it? God, I should have known that! Baby, I'm so sorry, please forgive me for-"

"There's nothing to apologize for Sam. I wanted it." She replied, her voice gravel and clipped from restrained emotion. "I wanted you. It was a good fuck, Sam."

"Baby, please don't say that…." His stomach rolled and churned at the mention of the word fuck. He had used the word on occasion, especially when they hit it hard and fast in an impulsive choice of room, and she had as well, in the throes of passion. But, she never said it in a voice so nonchalant. Every reference to their lovemaking before had an air of precious reverence, an air of mystical otherness that could never be tainted by anything remotely crude and morose, even if words like "fuck" were used. That is, until this moment, when his obviously hurting girlfriend threw it around like the moment they shared was just another ugly four letter word.

"It's the truth. It was a good fuck. You gave me exactly what I wanted. I knew what I was doing. I—I had it coming." She replied, closing her eyes in pain from her own words.

Sam read between them like an open book. "No, Mercedes. You didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve any of that." He assured her, tentatively touching her shoulder. When she didn't flinch away, he rubbed her skin soothingly. "I should have slowed down. I should have stopped us from going too far. I knew it was wrong, but-

"But I didn't listen. I never listen. That's the problem right?" she said, with a humorless chuckle. Her back was still turned to him, so she missed the look of full realization cross Sam's face. If she had grown curious enough about the sudden silence to turn around, Mercedes would have seen his face contort from realization to utter despair and would have cared enough to brush away the tears as they fell.

"I should have stopped you." He breathed in an anguish whisper. "I knew before you did that it would end wrong. And I never gave you a reason. I never give a damn reason, I'm-" He gasped back a full sob. "Baby, I'm so sorry I failed you"

She turned and stared blankly at his strewn bangs and red rimmed eyes, focused on the clump of sheets he fisted in his hands. She turned away from him without a word, letting the truth of silence loom between them.

Sam felt like a shell of a man. A pathetic excuse of a shell of a man. He had let her down in the parking lot when she needed him, and now he had gotten a second chance to make it right and he had fallen short again. Less than twenty four hours had passed since they were officially back together, and somehow he'd managed to somehow screw up the best thing that had ever happened to him.

What could he do? How could he fix this now?

Could he fix them?

Then, in the midst of his self-loathing, Mercedes reached back a saving hand toward him, taking his trembling, pale fingers in her grasp. A small hint of a smile graced his face when she placed their hands over her heart, laying his arm across her belly as she eased into his embrace. It fell away quickly when she brushed his fingers against her cheek, wetting his knuckle with drops of quiet tears.

"_I'm_ sorry, Sam." She finally said, turning over her shoulder to face him. "I ruined everything for us and I'm so sorry. It was such a pointless fight, and I should have let you come with me but I was so stubborn." Her quiet sobs grew audible, building into loud sniffles. "And my mother always told me my stubbornness would get me in trouble, but I didn't listen to her either. And I should have known better than to step behind that truck, I should have known!"

She sniffled harder, lurching her chest from the force. He tried to gently shush her protests, but she shook her head in protest. "No, I was stupid! I was so stupid! I was blind and dumb and stupid for even letting him-" he pulled her to his chest before she could finish and caught her broken sob against his chest. He kissed her bare shoulder as she wept openly against him, clawing into his shoulders with all the pent up emotion she held. He let her claw, let her soak his chest with tears and littered the top of her head with a few of his own. Because for the first time in a long time, they both realized that they would need more than themselves to get through this. As independent and strong as they were on their own, they would need the dual strength and fight of their wills to get through this.

He couldn't fix them. But, them? _They _had a terrific shot at fixing them.

"You're not stupid, Mercedes. You're strong. You hear me? We're strong and we're gonna get through this together." he muttered into her hair, rubbing her back as she cried. He let his own tears fall freely, letting the grief of the day pour out of him.

"I still love you. I will always love you, for better or worse. You hear me, darlin'?" he gasped, breaking down a sob of his own. She nodded fervently against him and he pulled her tighter until they were fully wrapped in each other's embrace.

"We're okay…..We're gonna be okay….."

**Review away! =)**


	14. Chapter 13 The Constant Reminders

**Hey, hey! Update for you guys, and I'm super excited about this one! Why?**

**We meet Mercedes's father! Yay!**

**And again, the powers that be on tumblr came up with the ingenious idea of casting Malcolm Jamal Warner as her daddy, and I 210% approve! I'm talking, sharp suit, newly coifed, cropped goatee with swag version of Warner, one who looks smart and sexy in his dapper suits and genius frames. If you don't know him, look him up!**

**And this chapter will also cover the morning after and the week that follows the attack. It's going to be a rough, uphill battle for the both of them, and its only beginning in this chapter. We meet a new character, who will be an interesting regular, and even have a small moment of flirty fluff samcedes!**

_**Now it's a party!**_

**Hope you enjoy! Please forgive any minor errors. I did the absolute best I could while my beta was away. And make sure to review. I love your feedback!**

* * *

><p>He'd sung her to sleep that night, stroking her hair softly until her sobs slowly evened into light snores. It took nearly three hours, and he ran through nearly all the hymns he committed to memory, but her peaceful face rewarded his efforts. It had been a long, hard day for both of them, uprooting every emotion from their core and shaking the very foundation of their newly mended relationship. It had thrown them off kilter, and the troubling sex in the midst of it all ripped away the last of the reins. They had nothing else to hold onto, nothing but raw hearts and naked emotion as they held one another in the guilt-ridden afterglow.<p>

But, they survived. They were still alive and managed to thrive in the destruction around them. And as Sam watched her, kneeling beside the bed and grazing his thumb over her still brow, he knew that they would continue to thrive as long as they fought together.

"I won't stop fighting for us." He whispered to her sleeping form, bending down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. She stirred a bit, for only a moment, and Sam stilled against her skin and watched her intently. He feared his movements would wake her, but she simply smiled and snuggled deeper into her pillow, content in her sleep.

She looked angelic in her slumber, fragile and gentle and blissfully happy. He never wanted to see that smile leave her face, ever. He touched the plump of her bottom lip, and the curl of a larger smile contagiously spread his own, filling him with the same easy contentment.

"Why are you so beautiful?" he whispered, gently brushing her bangs away from her nose and trailing the curve of her bridge with the tip of his finger. "And why in the hell did you choose me?"

Someday, he wanted a daughter that looked exactly like her; her brown skin, her round eyes, and a small cupid's bow mirroring her grin when he would put her to sleep. He made a mental note to tell her in the future, after all of this drifted into the shadows of their future life and he took her as his. He had to tell her he wanted a little Mercy, just as beautiful as her mother, and that he would do everything in his power to protect their little girl. He would be an involved father, caring and loving and concerned like their fathers were for them. They had amazing examples.

_Speaking of parents….._

In the midst of all the chaos, he hadn't thought to call and tell her parents what happened. It was going to be an uncomfortable, scary conversation, but they deserved to know. He hoped they wouldn't be too angry at him.

Sam checked his girlfriend one more time and, assured that she was still sleeping peacefully, he inched away from the bed and tiptoed his way to the phone in the adjacent guest room. He dialed Mrs. Jones away number from summer memory, and on the second ring, her sleep-ridden voice answered the call.

The anger was expected, as was the grief and the tears, but Sam could not have anticipated the _speed _of Mrs. Jones response. He told her everything in less than ten minutes, and she managed to wake up Mr. Jones, have them both packed, and book them on the next flight back to Ohio from New York before their call ended. By sunrise, Sam and Mercedes woke to the sound of a car engine pulling into the driveway, followed by the bustle of rolling carry-ons against the pavement and the hurried clack of heels approaching the door.

"Mercedes? BABY? Where's my baby?" Mrs. Jones dropped everything in the foyer and ran up the stairs, leaving her husband at the doorway with the bulk of their bags.

"Baby, momma's HERE! I'm right here, honey. Where…" Mama Patrice burst through the door, caught between a relieved sigh and horrified gasp at the sight of her daughter. She was dressed in yesterday's clothes and sitting on the edge of the bed with mussed hair and puffy eyes. Her face was bowed and covered by her disheveled curls, but the purple bruise on her forehead had grown considerably in size and noticeable without her head being raised. Sam sat beside her with eyes far more red and weary, wrapping her in a comforting hug to his chest and rocking her back and forth gently. His eyes were only for her until Mrs. Jones made her presence known, and when she came in and gasped, he looked up at her with knowing eyes. Mrs. Jones caught his busted lip and swollen eye laced with broken capillaries and broke down.

"Oh, baby. My babies, My God…" She dropped her purse and walked over to them, kneeling in front of her daughter and lifting her chin.

Mercedes finally met her eyes. "Hi, Mama…"

Her eyes watered, seeing the pain reflected in her daughter's. "Hi, baby. Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Tell mama where it hurts, bug. Did he hurt you?"

Mercedes' s small chin quivered in her mother's hands. She hadn't called her bug since she was a little girl, crying about the bullies that bothered her at school. She would call her lovebug or bug when she was hurting, and told her that they were jealous of how beautiful and talented she was. She told her love shone through her like a light, and all those bullies wanted was to take her light away. Her mother told her to never let anyone steal that from her. It was her gift, and they could only put it out if she let them.

How could she tell her mother that the bullies had only gotten stronger and crueler? And how could she look her mother in the eyes and admit that she found the one that had finally stolen everything from her? He stole her light, her glory, because she _let him._ Could she see the darkness in her eyes?

"Mama….." Mercedes bowed her head to hide her tears, but her mother's hands cupped her cheeks and gently lifted her back up to her eyes.

"Tell me what happened, baby. Tell me…" Mama Jones gently chided, feeling her throat tighten as she waited for her daughter's answer.

Her cheeks were littered with soft drops of tears, spilling over on her mother's hands. "He took my light, mama. " she whispered brokenly, trembling in shame. "He took my light. I let him."

"Oh, honey. No, no, don't say that. No…." she pressed her forehead to her daughter's, hoping to absorb the pain grieving her heart. "No, I still see it. It's still there, bug. No one can ever take that, baby."

"I'm sorry, mama…" she sobbed, collapsing into her mother's waiting embrace. "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, mama."

Mama Jones rocked her daughter in her arms, shushing her calm like she did when she was little. "It's not your fault, bug. It's not your fault. Not your fault."

Sam looked away, feeling the prickle of his own pain sting his eyes as he watched the scene. Shame and guilt weighed heavy on him, folding in his shoulders and pressing against his back until he nearly doubled over in his own hands. Mrs. Jones turned her face toward him, reaching a warm hand to cup his cheek and lift the burden from him. He met her eyes and watery smile.

"It's not your fault, baby." She said pointedly, staring at him until he broke and released his sob. He shook violently and fell forward into her hug, weeping as her soft rub of his shoulder vindicated him. "It's not your fault either, baby"

Mr. Jones marched up the steps, pausing in concerned confusion when he took in the scene. "Patrice, what…"

"Joseph, keep on your coat. We're going to take care of this." She commanded, looking back at him and communicating silently with her eyes.

He nodded, understanding everything she told him without words. "Let's go. The car's still running…"

Mr. Jones finally got the whole story, in detail, on the drive out. Mrs. Jones refrained from telling him on the flight or the ride from the airport, fearing he would grow irrational and erratic too soon. All she would say was "Mercy's in trouble" and "We have to leave now, she needs us". Now that they had seen the children and assessed the damage, she thought it safe to tell him. And sure enough, his predicted outrage erupted with a fire, steeling his grip on the wheel and edging his foot on the gas pedal until she had to holler for him to slow down. Blinded by fury, he swerved sharply around the curb, redirecting them to the nearest police station before he ended up committing murder on his arrival home.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, after countless retellings of the incident for police reports, several pictures of their bruises and wounds, and rather <em>invasive<em> physicals on both of them to ensure clean bills of health, they sat in their principal's office, watching the three adults go at each other in a heated discussion of "safety and sound punishment". It was well into the afternoon, near the end of the school day, and Sam and Mercedes tiredly sat in the office chairs in the corner, holding hands and letting words like "attack" and "beaten" and "sexual assault" whiz past them in the midst of the argument.

Sam watched their faces and mouths move, almost like a television show moving on mute, and studied the direction of the argument. Judging from Mr. Jones's appalled face, Figgin's last statement had missed the mark _terribly_, and the principal realized his mistake as soon as he took of his glasses and shot a threatening death glare his way. Sam chuckled in spite of himself when Figgins shrunk in his chair like a disobedient child, and part of him wanted to see an authority figure get screwed over by their own rules, just once.

If Mr. Jones throbbing temple was any indication, his wish could come true sooner than he'd hoped. He unmuted the program in progress and tuned in…..

"I WANT HIM EXPELLED!"

"EXPELLED? I DEMAND HIS TRIFLIN' TAIL BE _SPAYED AND NEUTERED_!"

"What kind of school are you running here, Figgins? I do not work hard and pay top dollar to have my daughter mauled in the parking lot of what _should be_ safe grounds!"

"And you mean to tell me you don't have any cameras monitoring this place? Not _ONE_? Did you miss the news story on the Virginia Tech massacre or are televisions too _expensive _to fit in the school budget, too?" Mrs. Jones sassed sarcastically

Mr. Figgins moved to interject, but two parental hands flew up to stop him.

"Save your breath and your half-assed apologies, I'm calling the board." Mr. Jones pulled out his blackberry and began to dial.

"Way ahead of you. I set them to speed dial on the trip home." sassed Mrs. Jones, well on the second ring of her call.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jones, _please!_ " pleaded Figgins, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tried to keep his tone even. "For the fifth time, I can assure you that safety and security of our students is of utmost concern and top priority here at McKinley. Now, can we please put down the phones, have a seat, and discuss this issue like calm, rational adults?" He plastered on a disarming smile, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Mrs. Jones snapped her phone shut, growing more irritated. "Who said I wasn't rational?" she turned to her husband beside her. "Joseph, did I ever act _irrationally_? Did I ever say or do one thing that would be considered _irrational_ in this situation?" Mr. Jones moved to speak, but she interrupted him before he could reply. "No, of courseI didn't!"

She walked over and leaned threateningly across Figgins's desk. "What I am, what WE are, are two parents who are _pissed off_ and sick of being in your office discussing our daughter's safety and well-being! She was attacked! _Attacked!_ And you have the nerve to ask me to _sit down? Calm down? _ I don't want your scrawny ass grade school arts 'n crafts chair and pleather cushions, I want _answers! _A whole mess of 'em! And they better be good and better sound _RIGHT_!_" _Both parents' arms crossed simultaneously across their chest, unmoved, while Mr. Figgins repeatedly squeezed the very life out of his stress ball.

"There usually are cameras monitoring school grounds, I assure you." Replied Mr. Figgins, his accent thicker in his frustration. "But due to an unfortunate senior prank last week involving red spray paint and baseball bats, the cameras are out of commission at the moment." He peeked through his fingers and sighed in relief when he heard no resulting argument or rebuttal. Feeling calmer, he put down his stress ball and folded his hands, straightening up to resume his authoritative "principal" posture. "Now, I am sincerely sorry for what happened. I care about each of my students and never wish to see them hurt, especially my glee club. I am very protective of them. And sexual assault is inexcusable and worthy of punishment to the fullest extent. We have a no-tolerance policy for that behavior. I'm sorry you had to go through that." He looked over to the sitting couple, staring at him with lost, innocent eyes. "I am truly sorry."

Mercedes looked down, saying nothing, but Sam nodded for both of them, acknowledging his apology.

"However, until the police have confirmed the allegations, according to school policy, I cannot expel a student for _alleged _sexual assault. We have no eye witnesses other than the attackers and Mercedes and no physical evidence to support it."

"But, she has the marks and bruises to prove it!" yelled Mr. Jones, gesturing to his daughter's forehead. Mrs. Jones was too livid to speak, instead pacing the floor and muttering _The Serenity Prayer _under her breath.

"_Which_ will be considered a schoolyard scuffle, punishable but not worthy of expulsion. Unfortunately, we've had so many young women falsely cry "sexual assault" in the past that it's no longer enough without concrete proof, however.."

"This is utter bullshit!" screamed the father, irately slamming his fist on the desk. You mean to tell me that unless my daughter was actually raped, had a rape kit done, and could _prove it, _he can still come to this school and terrorize her?"

Figgins eyes widened. "No, not necessarily…."

Mrs. Jones stopped pacing and grabbed her daughter's hand, pulling her out of the chair. "Come on, baby. I'm sorry, but we have to take you out of this school." Mercedes's eyes bulged as she stared at her mother, shaking her head in protest at the idea. Sam jumped up beside her just as panicked, lacing his fingers in silent comfort as her eyes watered.

"Mama, it's not fair! I'm almost finished at McKinley! My whole life and my friends are here!"

"I know, Mercedes, you know I don't want to pull you out! But, I won't have you put in danger again, I just won't!"

Figgins stood, walking towards mother and daughter. "Now, Mrs. Jones, that might not be nec—"

"I won't let him touch her." Sam chimed in with a determined voice. "I'll go with her everywhere and make sure she's safe."

Mr. Jones turned to Sam. "Son, that's not your job…."

"Mr. Jones, I love her. It _is _my job."

"Sam—"

"No, I won't hear it, Mercedes. I'm not losing you again." he replied, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

"I don't' want to go…" she cried, shaking her head in his chest. He held her tighter, feeling the sharp pain of grief in his chest.

"I'll follow you, okay? I'll follow you anywhere, wherever they put you…"

"Everyone, please! There's no need for anyone to leave!" said Figgins, emphatically shaking his hands. He had managed to move in front of his desk and stand near them without their notice. All eyes and ears gave him their full attention.

He sighed. "I was trying to say that I cannot expel him, _however, _I can suspend him until the investigation is over. There's no need for Mercedes to go anywhere."

Sam and Mercedes sighed in relief, but Mr. Jones looked unmoved. "And what about the other boys?"

"Well, I cannot suspend them for the sexual assault, but they can certainly be punished for the physical assault against Sam. I will give them two weeks and a 60-day probationary period. Any more infractions and they will be expelled from school. That should keep her safe until the end of the year."

Mr. Jones looked to his wife, who nodded in acceptance of the terms. "Fine. We'll take that. And those cameras will be up and running by the end of the week?" he said, more statement than question.

"You have my word as an educator, Mr. Jones." Figgins replied, reaching out to shake his hand and seal their agreement. His eyes shifted to Mercedes, still wrapped in the blonde's embrace. "And Mercedes, if you want, you can take some time away from school. I'll have your teachers send your assignments via email and you can work from home until you're ready to come back."

"Honey, I think that would be a good idea. You need some time to heal." Her mother softly said, rubbing soothing circles on her back. Mercedes took a moment to think it over, looked to her boyfriend, who also nodded, and made her decision.

"Okay. I think I will."

Figgins offered a peaceful smile. "Whenever you're ready to come back, say the word, okay?" She nodded again, wiping away the last of her tears.

The crew moved to collect their things, but Figgins halted them. "Not so fast. Unfortunately, I'm not quite finished." His demeanor turned grim, looking toward Sam with apologetic eyes. "Sam, since you were involved in the scuffle, I have to suspend you as well." Mrs. Jones opened her mouth, but Figgins continued before she spoke. "It's just to avoid any perception of unfair treatment. If I'm going by the book, it has to apply to everyone. But, don't worry. It will not go on your permanent record and will only be for one week, since you fought in self-defense."

Mrs. Jones opened her mouth again, but this time it was Sam who stopped her. "it's okay, Mama Jones. I accept the consequences of my actions. I would do even more time if I had to." he looked down, staring lovingly into the eyes of his girlfriend. "Besides, this means I can stay with Mercedes, at least for the week…..that is, if that's okay with you." She gave him a sad smile and tightened her hold around his waist, mouthing a "Thank you" before snuggling into his chest.

Mr. Jones gave a curt nod. "Yes, that's okay. But, there are some rules now." Both young eyes looked on in attention, nodding to his every word. "Now, you both stay in separate rooms. And, no staying up late and fooling around. Mercedes may not physically be in school, but she is still a student, so curfews still apply."

"Yes sir, of course"

"No problem, daddy"

His face remained stoic, looking back and forth between them before settling on Sam. "And one last thing, young man."

Sam gulped, trying not to tremble under his threatening stare. "Sir?"

"You take care of her. Make sure she's protected and safe. And don't let her skip any meals or mope in her room too long, I know her."

"Daddy—"

"You hush now, you know I'm right." He smiled at his daughter and kissed her cheek, smoothing the spot with his thumb.

"You stay safe for me, okay? And if anything happens…"

"I know who to call." she finished, offering a smile of her own. "I remember, daddy."

"My girl" he said, kissing her forehead

"Now, why are we talkin' like we're not going to be in that house with them? Where are we gonna be besides right here with our daughter?"

Joseph sighed at his wife, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. She knew what he was about to say, and he _knew _she knew, but she still insisted he say it anyway.

"Patrice, you know we have to go back. We're guest speakers and representatives for our district!"

"Well, I'm sure the district will understand that our family has a _crisis right now_ and we can't fulfill our duties, Joseph!" she argued, with an authoritative hand on the curve of her hip.

"For something this big, Pat? This is only once a year and very few of _us _get this opportunity, you know that. It's why we agreed on such short notice."

When Sam called, the couple had been away in Manhattan attending an exclusive week-long conference for professionals, specifically for leaders who have made groundbreaking moves in each of their fields. A myriad of professions were represented, from healthcare to law to computer science and engineering, and only one from each field attended in representation of their state. Mr. and Mrs. Jones were not only asked to be Ohio's face for Law and Dentistry, but were also invited as highlighted guest speakers, complete with their names and faces on the conference itinerary. It was an astounding honor, not only as professionals, but as the first African American representative professionals from a southern state. Considering the caliber of people who attended, people as high up as the White house, it was a near historic. It was the reason why they hadn't hesitated to accept in the first place.

But, history could kiss Mrs. Jones's ass when it came to the well-being of her children. She was mother before mogul, and refused to leave their care in any other hands except her own capable ones.

"No, Joseph, I won't hear it. I'm not doing it. We're cancelling the trip. I'm dialing now and we are.." he gently took the dialing cell phone from his wife's hands, pressing the end button to finish the call and slipping it in his back pocket. He took her in his arms, bending down to touch her forehead to his as he attempted to meet her eyes.

"Pat…" he seductively whispered, turning on the charm. She struggled against his arms, knowing his tricks.

"No, Joseph, _no._ Don't you dare use that voice with me. Don't try to sucker me out of this…"

"_Pat, baby…"_

"No, shut it up, Joe! I'm warning you." She made the mistake of meeting his eyes. Her struggles grew weak and less eager.

"_Honey…" _ his low voice made her involuntarily shiver, and Mercedes and Sam looked on, shocked and impressed when her mother stopped fighting and grew captivated with her husband's eyes.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his taller frame around her until she fit securely against him. "Pat, she's fine. They're both fine. They'll be okay."

"Yeah, but…"

"Now, I know you want to stay here and play momma bear for your baby, but she's strong. She's stronger than you think and in capable hands." Sam smiled proudly at the compliment. "She'll be home where we can check on her as often as we'd like, we have full security system on the house, the fridge is well stocked with food, and I _promise _you that she knows better than to take candy from strangers."

"Shut up!" she chuckled, swatting his chest. "You infuriating man."

"But, you love me." He grinned, pecking her lips. "And I know you love our baby girl. I do, too. She's fine, baby. At least until we get back from the conference."

Mrs. Jones cast a worried glance to her daughter, biting her lip. "Baby, are you gonna be okay while we're gone? If you're not, just say the word, and I'm staying right here. Tell me the truth."

"I'll make it, momma." She said honestly. "Besides, it's like daddy said,' she looked to her boyfriend, who grinned at her attention. 'I'm in capable hands." She brushed away his bangs and gave a small smirk when she could fully see his green eyes. With a relieved sigh, she turned back toward her mother and gave an assured nod. "I'll be just fine."

Mrs. Jones's lips quirked into a small smirk, but inside, her heart broke just a bit at her answer. Watching your children grow up before your eyes can be a bitter pill to swallow. Sometimes, it was hard to accept the fact that her little bug didn't need her as much as she used to. It seemed the older she got, the blurrier her caregiving role became. How much was too much? When do you draw back? Her instinct was to coddle, but she knew there would come a day when coddling would smother.

She watched on as Sam kissed her forehead and rocked her in his arms, a privilege that once use to belong to only her.

"Alright, Joe. We can go back." Mrs. Jones replied, smiling sadly as she watched her daughter make bright, doe eyes for only her boyfriend, eyes that read complete trust in him. _Yes, a bitter pill to swallow, indeed. _

Mr. Jones, knowing his wife like he did, kissed her forehead and whispered, "_She'll always need her mama, Pat. Don't worry so much_." She pushed him away and waved it off, laughing as if she knew that all along. But a small side glance his way told him that was exactly what she needed to hear.

"But, I'm calling Victoria so she can check up on them, too. She deserves to know what happened." Joseph sighed and rolled his eyes as he followed his wife out the door, chuckling to himself when she pressed the "2" on her speed dial to call Sam's mother. The "1" was still reserved for him.

"Victoria? Honey, you will not BELIEVE the day we've had TODAY!"

* * *

><p>Sam and Mercedes lagged behind them, saying their polite goodbyes to Figgins and shutting his door as they walked out into the hallway.<p>

"Are you alright, really?" Sam asked suddenly, nibbling the corner of his lip.

"I wouldn't lie, Sam. Why?" she asked, reading his expression. There was something he wasn't saying.

"I don't know, it's just…" he sighed. "Well, you were so quiet in there. You only really spoke when someone asked you something directly. Otherwise, you just seemed….less _you._" He was going to say quiet, but quiet would mean that he thought she was usually loud, so he thought better of it.

"Sam, it's just been a really long day! I've been poked and prodded, asked the same questions over and over about something I'd rather not remember, have police officers and nurses look at me like I was either one second away from snapping or one wrong word away from breaking down, and I've gotten no sleep. Plus, there's a chance that this douchebag might go free because I don't have enough to give them as evidence and I'm just…." She sighed, frustratingly trying to find the right word. "I'm just _tired, _alright? I'm tired and not really feeling very _me_ right now. Excuse the _hell _out of me."

_Fuck, did he have a natural knack for saying the wrong thing? _"You're right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like a jerk about it." He took her hand as she walked away and gently pulled her back. "Hey, I'm sorry. I say shit without thinking, sometimes. It's why you love me." He smiled, hoping to coax one out of her.

"Yeah, yeah. Love." She replied, giggling when he wiggled his eyebrows. "Sam, you're an ass."

"But I'm yours."

"You're _my_ ass?" she said, amused at the choice of words.

He thought for a second, before replying. "Well, I _own _that ass, so technically.."

"Sam!" she laughed, slapping his arm for the rudeness. "Boy, let's go get our books so we can go." she giggled to herself as they walked to her locker, muttering his line under her breath.

He smiled proudly. _Looks like I have a knack for getting it right, too….._

* * *

><p>The week was eventfully uneventful. That is, they spent a whole lot of time doing absolutely nothing of importance in small increments of time. Sure, there was the necessary break for homework and studies, but most of the time was spent on idle things, like talking about nothing or performing random domestic tasks around the house.<p>

Sam stayed true to his promise and cooked Mercy's favorite things, hoping it would persuade her to eat more. He also traveled over to her room as often as he could, and she would be listening to music or reading a textbook when he walked in most times. On those occasions, she would welcome him with a smile and a gesture to come over, patting an empty spot next to her on the bed. She would share a favorite song with him on her headphones or rake a hand through his hair and chat about nothing. In those times, it felt like summer, like idle June days in the beginning of their relationship when they couldn't wait to see each other and talk about everything that went through their minds.

Of course, there were occasions where reality set in, when hours grew heavy and chilled past them. When he went into her room then, he would catch her lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, wearing an unreadable expression as she drifted in thought. Those days, her silence was his invitation, and he would venture in and lie beside her without sharing a word. Sometimes, they laid there for hours, never acknowledging the tangible thing that permeated the room and consumed their thoughts. And when it first happened, Mercedes didn't even give him a sideway glance when he came in her bed. But over time, she would look his way briefly, regard his face and then turn back to stare into nothing. Slowly, she started to grab his hand and lace their fingers together. When she felt the urge, Mercedes would kiss his fingers and lay it over her heart, content in feeling the strength of their fists pressed against the quiver of its beat. On Thursday, their longest day, she even shed some quiet tears, and he broke their routine and held her close until they stopped. She never cried again after that, but she did let him hold her on occasions when he felt she needed it. It was one of the things that made their union so lovely. They never had to request what they needed. What they wanted, they voiced, but what was needed always seemed to be understood. Their love was greater than anything they could possibly say, especially in moments of weighted silence, when words wouldn't move through the thickness.

Saturday night had been the hardest, following a terrible nightmare that left her trembling and panicked. He stayed with her for five hours that night, praying peace over her until they grew weary and broke one of the rules, falling asleep in each other's arms. It was the steadiest sleep either of them had gotten all week, especially Mercedes. She was the most sleep-deprived of the two.

So, Sam was more than surprised to wake up early Sunday morning to an empty bed and the sweet smell of fresh waffles wafting from the staircase. It caught him completely off guard.

After a quick shower and brushing of teeth, Sam ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, growing far more curious and confused when he saw a beaming Mercedes bring a fresh plate of bacon to a table overflowing with food.

"Oh, good! You're awake!" she grinned happily, "I didn't want to make the omelet until you woke up. Nothing worse than cold eggs, right? I know you _hate_ that."

"Yeah, I do?" he replied, brow furrowed as he rubbed his forehead. "Mercedes, what is all this?"

"Well, mama and daddy called early this morning to say that they were coming in today after the conference, so I figured I would surprise them with Sunday brunch. You know, like how mama usually does." He nodded in comprehension. "And you've been cooking all week for me—delicious, by the way. I never did say that—so I thought I would do a little something' for you this time. You like it?" Her eyes shone with joy as she smiled at him, waiting for his answer. Sam was utterly dumbfounded.

"This is wonderful! This is all wonderful, I just…I didn't expect it, that's all!" he replied, offering a disbelieving grin of his own. _Was she wearing a dress?_

"Is all this for me, too?" he said, gesturing to her dress. She chuckled and twirled, letting the yellow skirt lift and billow around her legs.

"You like? It's _mostly _for you. I was also hoping we could go to the evening service once my parents get in. I haven't been to church in a while and suddenly feel like going…..you better hurry up and dish out your food before it gets cold! We usually eat all together, but I'm sure mama and daddy will understand." She said, flipping the fold of tomato and green pepper laced egg over itself and sprinkling a bit of shredded cheese on top. "There! It's all finished." Sam sat himself at the table and Mercedes placed his plate in front of him, biting her lip as she watched him.

"Go ahead, dig in! Tell me what you think! Western omelets aren't really my specialty, but I know you love them, so—"

"Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?" he chuckled, only half in jest.

"What do you mean?" Mercedes laughed, scrunching her nose.

"I mean, you know! After last night and everything…"

"Oh." Her smile fell in an instant.

Sam shook his head. "I didn't mean to steal your smile, I'm just in shock. It's like a complete 180, you know? I mean, I'm happy _you're_ happy, I just wanna know where this is coming from." He pulled her down into his lap, hugging her waist.

"Honestly, I don't even know it myself. Maybe it was last night or this whole week but, I just woke up feeling lighter! I mean, I got the best sleep I've gotten in a long time and, when I do finally wake up," she cupped his cheek with a tender smile. "you were right there beside me. It felt nice. It felt normal. I missed that."

"Me too." He said smiling, turning his face to kiss her palm.

"I guess that just put me in the mood to cook! Besides, do I need a reason? I could hear your stomach rumbling from upstairs." She laughed, leaving his lap to sit in her own chair. Sure enough, his stomach took the opportune moment to make itself known.

"See? _That _is why I made so much! I swear, how you eat three plates filled with food and never get fat, I'll never know."

He stared at her lecherously. "I burn it all off. You keep me pretty _active_."

Her cheeks grew hot. "I don't lose a pound."

"I pray you never do." He replied, shamelessly ogling the curves of her body and groaning. "Mph. Thick is damn wonderful."

She looked down, biting her lip to tame her cheesy grin. "Eat your eggs, Sam."

He complied quickly, moaning in a different kind of pleasure after the first bite. "Omigod, this is awesome." he plopped back against his chair, groaning in sheer bliss at the next bite. "God, woman, how do you work this magic?"

"They're just eggs, Sam!" she giggled, enjoying his reaction.

"But, they're so good! My mom doesn't even make it this good and she's _amazing, _so that's saying something." he piled dish after dish on his plate until there was no room, mashing it all together and shoveling several large forkfuls in his mouth at once.

"It will all be here when you finish, I promise." She deadpanned, quirking her brow in amusement when he downed a whole glass of orange juice in three gulps. It was a wonder he didn't choke

"I've decided to go back to school tomorrow. I'm going to call Mr. Figgins and let him know"

And Sam nearly _did _choke, then, coughing and sputtering until Mercedes had to knock his back.

"What? Don't you think it's a little too soon?" he inquired, worry etched on his face.

"Not really. I feel better, you're going to be at school with me, and the other boys won't be back for another week. I want to enjoy at least one week of worry-free freedom before graduation." She said, sipping her coffee calmly. "And, I miss glee club so much! I've already gotten tons of texts and emails, asking where I am and why I'm not there. I rather just show up next week and say I called out sick or something…"

He grew even more concerned. "But, you will tell them the truth eventually, right? I mean, you can't lie forever."

Her eyes moved off to the side. "I know." She replied unconvincingly, as if she _had _planned on lying the entire time. "it's just, for now. Until everything blows over."

"Mercedes, things like this don't just blow over…"

"Look, can we not go into this now? God…" she sighed. "I've already made my decision. Can you just support that? Please?"

He regarded her for a moment, reading her, and decided to nod his consent. "Okay. If that's what you want." He shrugged.

The mood turned somber, so Sam decided to change the subject, biting into a fresh biscuit. "Hey, I've had these before. They're delicious! When have I tasted these before?"

She smirked at his efforts, playing along. "They're Grandma Nettie's recipe. She made 'em once over the summer, after you told her the only biscuits you've ever tasted came out of a can." Mercedes chuckled at the memory.

"Oh yeah! And then I told her I would never eat another store-bought biscuit again. She spoiled me for life." Sam took another healthy bite, licking the buttery goodness from his fingers. "You know, I never did after that."

"I remembered." Mercedes said distantly, leaning against her hand as she watched him finish. "It's why I made 'em. It's all I would eat when I was little, _literally."_

"_Literally_?"

"Lit-er-all-y!"

Sam laughed at her over exaggeration. "I'm pretty sure you couldn't. _Man cannot live on bread alone,_ remember?"

Mercedes stood and took his empty plate, staring down at him. "You see this ass?" she smacked it once for emphasis.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Forty percent genetics, eighty-five percent biscuits. Scout's honor." She vowed with a raise of her hand. He followed the swing of her bottom until she reached the sink, drooling slightly when she bent over to put the rinsed plate in the dishwasher.

"Mercedes?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this your plate? Right here?"

She looked over her shoulder at him as she rinsed the rest of the dishes. "Yeah, why?"

"No reason." He slid the rest of the biscuits into her plate, stacking on top of her food and spilling over in excess on her chair.

Mercedes heard the clang of the baking sheet and turned around, gasping in amused shock at his antics.

"Sam!"

"What? I'm just helping things along!" he shrugged unapologetically, shooting her a coy wink as he ate a strip of bacon.

"You're shit, sometimes, you know that?" she chuckled.

"I ain't shit!" he retorted, pouty lips with bacon pieces flying out his mouth like a five-year old.

"That too." She whispered, laughing silently over her sudsy hands.

Sam happily munched on his second and third piece simultaneously, pausing mid-strip as he realized something.

"Hey! That's _a hundred and twenty five percent_!" he declared comically, making Mercedes laugh even harder.

"It's alot of ass!" she replied, just before they heard the jingle of her parents' house keys and the turn of the lock.

* * *

><p>"Baby girl, you sure about this? Figgins said you could stay out longer if you need to." Mercedes rolled her eyes, making sure he didn't see her.<p>

"I'm good, dad! For the hundredth time, I'm good! I promise."

His eagle eye scoured the school grounds. Once he saw no visible signs of danger, he nodded.

"Alright, you can call me at the office if anything." He said, waggling his phone before putting it in his pocket.

"I'm aware, Dad." She chuckled. "I gotta go before I miss homeroom. Love you." She blew him a kiss and began to walk away, but the blare of the car horn stopped her in her tracks. She pinched her nose in mild annoyance, remembering exactly _why_ she hated when Shane used to do that. It was annoyingly familiar.

"Baby girl!" Mr. Jones hollered outside the open passenger window. "Where's daddy's goodbye kiss?"

A few cheerleaders passing pointed and chuckled at the scene, and Mercedes bowed in embarrassment.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me…." Her mother had wanted to drop her, but Mercedes insisted that her father drop her, since he was so worried and his office was closer to school. _Big, huge mistake._

She put on a more-than-necessary smile to humor him, turning back to open the car door and give him an affectionate peck on the cheek. "Bye, daddy. I love you! Can you leave now?"

"Okay, I get the hint." He laughed, closing the door as she slipped out. "Love you too, baby. And you know what to do if there's any trouble, right?"

She smirked coyly. "Kick ass?"

"My girl!" he laughed, bumping fists with her through the window before he sped off.

* * *

><p>Homeroom and her first three periods went along without a hitch, just like she knew it would. And, aside from Sam's million and one texts, there was little fuss over last week's incident. She was secretly worried that someone had seen and would tell everyone. If she wanted anyone to find out about her attack, it was going to be on her terms. And honestly, she was already starting to get over it. Who would really ever have to know?<p>

She opened her locker to pack away her books for lunch period, when a small white card fluttered to the floor. Curious, she packed her books and bent to pick it up, flipping it until she saw writing.

The letters were black and simple, and words were few, but they had the impact its owner intended. Mercedes blanched and fell nauseous as the message hit home.

**It's not your fault. Rape happens. And, you are not alone.**

**419-555-0132**

"I would keep that close if I were you. I think you're going to need me." said a gritty voice. Mercedes turned to the blue-streaked Goth woman beside her, as pale and thin as death itself. She didn't readily recognize her face, but her smooth cheeks and youthful smile suggested she was high-school age.

"Do I know you?" asked Mercedes, leery.

"I hope we can become great friends! My name's Erin." She reached out for a handshake, but quickly shrunk away under Mercedes death glare.

"And you slipped this in _my _locker because?"

"Because I know about your situation, and I think I can help you through it."

Mercedes tried to laugh easy, but it came out a nervous chuckle. "And what situation would that be?"

"I know about the parking lot. About the rape." Erin jumped at the sudden slam of the locker door.

"_That didn't happen!_ He didn't actually..!" she dropped her voice, conscious of the bustling of students around her. "He didn't actually…"

Erin looked expectantly, waiting for her to finish. "What? Rape you? Just sexual assault, then?"

"Shhhh! Keep your voice down!" Mercedes urged in a harsh whisper. "I do not need all of Lima knowing my business!" She quirked a curious, angry brow. "Matter of fact, how in the hell did _you _find out about this? Is this published somewhere?"

"Oh no, not at all. Figgins told me." She replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Oh, okay! Figgins told you. No big deal!" she mocked in a high voice. "Well, that makes it all just _fine then!_ Well I appreciate your attempt to help, but I can assure you, it is not needed or wanted. You're looking for victims and I am a far cry from one!" she marched away angrily, stomping her way to the lunch room.

"Wait! Wait up!" the goth girl ran after her. "Don't you want to know why Figgins told me? Don't you want to know who I am?"

"No, what I want you to do is go away and leave me alone!" she sighed exasperatedly when the taller girl blocked her way. "Please move, or I swear I'll move you."

"Please, just give me a second, alright? I'm new at this, so it takes me a little longer for people to warm up to me." Mercedes's brows raised in surprise at her honesty, but she was set firm in her anger.

"Fine, I'll do you better. I'll give you sixty." She checked her watch. "Go."

Erin sighed and shook away her nerves. "Ah, okay fine. My name's Erin, but you probably know that already. And I can be a little overbearing and intimidating at times, which you probably already know, too. God, I suck at this! I'm gonna kill bee!" she muttered, wringing her hands.

Mercedes graced her with a bored look. "Tick freaking tock"

"Well, Figgins told Bee—that's our leader's name, Bee—about you and your situation because she hosts a rape and sexual assault survivors group that goes from school to school during the week to council students who've been attacked and survived it and he usually reports students to her in the off chance that they might need her help and since I'm a representative for McKinley, you're meeting with me right now and having this conversation." The goth girl stopped and took an eager breath, gasping for air before she continued the rest of her speech. "And I know, you said that you're not a victim but you were attacked which makes you right for our group if you choose to come and I really hope you do 'cause I think it would be great to have you and I already like you 'cause you're wearing an awesome hat that I'd love to borrow if we become good friends." Mercedes looked on shocked and Erin took another eager breath and grabbed her wrist.

"Sweet! I had twenty seconds to spare! That should be some sort of record or something, right?"

_Was this girl even real?_ "Uh, look…um…"

"Erin" she offered, a friendly smile plastered on her painted black lips.

"Erin." Mercedes repeated. "Thank you, honestly. But, I'm not one of you! I wasn't….you know…"

"Raped?" Erin said, nonchalantly. "It will get easier to say once you're in therapy, trust me. And you might not have been, but coming close can be just as jarring."

Mercedes dismissed her words with a flick of her hand, walking determinedly to the cafeteria. Since Erin followed along, she continued. "But, I'm fine! I wasn't…"

"But you came close."

"But, _it didn't happen_"

"_But, it almost did!"_

"Look Erin, let's cut the bullshit, okay?" she stopped the girl with a raise of her hand. "I don't know you, nor do I wish to know you. Your group sounds wonderful, but I don't want to be a part of it. And if you follow me again, I cannot promise that my fist won't somehow knock your jaw. Feel me?"

Erin's face dropped, and Mercedes knew the second she finished that she might have gone too far. But, what right did this girl have, drudging up issues and feelings that don't belong to her? Who the hell told her to come in and ruin her day with this mess?

Erin reached out a hand, offering her card with a somber pout. "Look, I know how painful this is to talk about. And, maybe I did come on a bit strong, but it's what I needed when I went through it, someone to push through all my defenses and reach out to me. I wanted someone to make me care, show me that I wasn't alone and insignificant. That, I mattered. Even if it was a complete stranger."

Erin sighed, looking to her with pleading eyes. "Take it? Please? Even if you don't think you need it now, you might need it later. Don't let your impression of me sway your decision to join something that could…could really change your life, for the better."

Mercedes looked at the card in her hands, growing more furious when she felt her eyes sting from oncoming tears. Swiping her face in anger, she pointed a determined finger in her face.

"Stay away from me." She growled lowly, turning on her heels and walking away from the girl for what she hoped was the last time. There was too much honesty in her eyes, too much for her to face right now.

Sam smiled at his approaching girlfriend, then frowned when she walked angrily past him. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Ask her!" she screamed, pointing an accusing finger to the dumbfounded girl in the hallway. Sam looked to the girl, confused, before he hollered back. "IS THIS ABOUT THE TEXTS?"

But, she turned the corner without a reply. Erin walked up beside the equally confused boyfriend.

"That your girl?"

"Yeah." He replied faintly, staring down the now empty hallway. "At least, I hope she still is."

Erin sucked her teeth, following his eyes. "She's a piece of steel, that's for sure."

"Yeah, she can be. It's one of the reasons I love her. She's strong." He answered honestly. "But even the strongest people have their breaking point"

At his words, Erin turned to face him. "You love her? Want to help her?"

Sam looked down at her, surprised. "Yes and yes, I guess?"

"Keep this card. She's gonna need it more than she realizes. Maybe she'll listen to you."

Sam watched her leather boots as she walked away, glancing at the card when she was out of sight. When he read the words, his face eased in realization. Reading it again, it quickly turned to worry.

"Shit." He muttered, running in her direction.

* * *

><p>Eyes searching all over the cafeteria, he spotted her black and white hat and sparkly vest in the lunch line and was quick to join her.<p>

"Mercedes, baby. I know what happened." He said, catching his breath.

"Well, now that you do, you know why I stomped out of there. I didn't want to discuss it with her."

"I know. And she had no right bringing it up if you weren't ready. No right."

Mercedes nodded, moving to the end of the line to pay for her items. "Exactly…. Just a salad, apple, and pudding, please?" she told the cashier, smiling kindly at her as she entered the cost for each in the register.

Sam frowned at the lack of real food on her tray, but he would talk to her about that later. "But, Mercedes, I _do _think it's something to at least consider." at her scoff, he added, "I mean, it might be helpful to talk about this!"

"I've been talking about this, Sam! To you, to my mother, my father, the police! I'm tired of talking! I just want to deal with it and move on." She huffed, walking away from him to find a table.

"Mercedes, just hear me out. It doesn't have to be right now. But the reality is—oomph!" He crashed into her back when she suddenly stopped. Her eyes were wide and filled with panic as she stared across the lunchroom.

He touched her shoulder. "Mercedes? What's wrong?" At his touch, she shoved her tray in his hands and ran out, drawing tshe concerned stares of several students around them, including members of the glee club.

"Dude, what happened?" asked Mike, touching his shoulder. Sam copied her move and shoved the tray in his friend's arms, realizing _exactly _what had made her run out so suddenly.

"MERCEDES!" He sprinted after her, calling her name in the halls.

"MERCEDES!" he looked in the classrooms and bathrooms, seeing no trace of her. "MERCE—"

He stopped and dropped to the ground, seeing her broken form huddled in the space between the locker rows. She was curled into a ball and crying in heaving sobs.

"Mercy.." he sighed, crawling on his knees toward her. "Baby, it wasn't him."

"Sam, I KNOW what I saw!" she sobbed, drawing tighter. "He had the same hair, the same jacket…."

"He was a jock, Mercy. They all wear the same stuff." He gently reasoned, reaching a tentative hand to touch her head. When she didn't flinch, he gathered her in an awkward hug.

"He had the same laugh, the same voice, everything. It was _him_ for me, you understand? I don't care what you saw!" she cried, rubbing her tears and streaking eyeliner into her sweater sleeve. "It was _him…."_ She shook harder and he rubbed her back in soothing circles, resting his chin gently atop her head.

"Okay, Mercy. Okay…." He comforted. "I'm right here. He won't hurt you."

He knew it was really Rick from the lacrosse team. His hair was longer and his voice lacked the bite of depth that Donovan's had. But, for Mercedes, the vague parallels seemed concrete. It set her off in more ways than they were both ready for.

"I wasn't ready." She cried in his shoulder, heaving as he rocked her. "I wasn't. I'm not okay, Sam."

He reached in his pocket and held out the small black and white card, reading its number above her head and committing it to memory. They would need all the help they could get, and this phone call might be the answer.

"Alright, baby." He whispered, kissing her hat-covered head. "I know. But, you will be. We will be. I promise." And he pulled out his phone, dialing the number amidst her panicked breaths, hoping help would answer soon.

**Thoughts? Ideas? Questions? Review below!**


	15. Chapter 14 The Confession

_**Another update for you all! As always, read, digest, enjoy, and review! Love you all for your words, alerts, favorites, and private messages of encouragement. I read every one of them, sometimes over and over on a near daily basis! (blushes) **_

_**Muah! You're all mahvelous! **_

"I changed my mind. I'm not going."

"Mercedes..."

"No, Sam! I'm serious! I'm not going in there. Yesterday was just a momentary thing. I feel a lot better now."

Sam shot her a look. "_Mercedes_…."

She shook her head. "Nope, I'm not going in! End of story. And don't you _Mercedes_ me, because it's not going to work." Before he could protest again, she crossed her arms and arched a challenging brow, closing his mouth as soon as it opened.

He sighed, running his hand over his face in frustration. They had stood outside the door for over fifteen minutes, debating whether or not Mercedes should attend the therapy session.

Rather, Sam was trying to convince her, and Mercedes was running hot and cold on her decision. And as soon as he coaxed a yes from her, she would turn around and flip out before her hand could turn the door knob. He tried almost everything: reasoning (that almost never worked when Mercedes felt right about something), demanding (_that _was less effective than the first), even bribery (All her chores for a week—no, a month. He even promised to wear nothing but a waist apron and a smile. That had coaxed a hearty laugh and a reluctant yes, but didn't hold up.)

So, at the end of his rope, he resorted to his old faithful: Seduction.

"Mercedes Aretha Jones" he said in his most seductive voice. "Baby…"

"Yesss?" Mercedes looked him up and down skeptically, folding her arms tighter when he gathered her into his arms.

"Honey…" he crooned, dipping his head near her shoulder and gently kissing her neck.

"Oh, hell no, Sam. If you think you're gonna kiss a yes from me like daddy did momma, you've got another thing coming!" Still, her eyes fluttered shut when he kissed near her clavicle, leaving a trail of soft pecks across the scoop of her blouse.

"Mercy…" he whispered against her cheek, pressing another soft kiss there. "What did we talk about, hmm?"

"Sam, I'm warning you." She threatened quietly, the bite of her voice weakened by a whimper when he kissed just below her lips. "Sam, I've made my decision. I've decided..."

"_We_ decided to give this a chance, didn't we?" he reminded her, stroking her lips with gentle swipes of his thumb. Sam's voice of persuasion was soft, intimate and purring and knee-weakening. Mercedes couldn't resist. She fell into his kiss as soon as his lips ghosted near her own.

"_Samm_…" she whined. He kissed her again, slower than the last, with a nibble of her lower lip and sweep of his tongue against hers. He only released her when her chest heaved against his, straining for breath.

"Mercy?" he whispered, catching his own breath.

"Yes?" She said in a breath, eyes still closed as she recovered from his attentions.

Sam smiled against her lips, happy his method was working. He would have to thank Mr. Jones later for the impromptu lesson in persuading Jones' women.

"Now, are we gonna give this a proper chance? At least try it? If you don't like it, even one bit, you don't have to stay. We can find somewhere else, okay?" she nodded, leaning her forehead against hers and aligning the tips of their noses, rubbing them softly.

Her eyes burst open and darted to his. Naked fear read in her stare.

"I'm scared." she whispered, letting her defensive anger fall away. He answered her with nary a blink of an eye.

"Don't be. It's safe here. You're safe here." He assured her, pulling her against his chest in a full hug. She returned his embrace, tightening her arms around him until every bit of his warmth pressed against her . Sam slowly rocked them back and forth, in time to the calm beat of his heart until he felt her relax and fall completely at ease. She pulled her head up from his chest, just enough to answer him.

"Okay. I think I can do this."

Sam smiled proudly. "I know you can. You're my strong, capable girlfriend. And I love you so much."  
>Mercedes smiled back, warmed by the compliment. "I love you, too. Come with me?"<p>

"I want to, but I have swim practice. I already missed last week because of the suspension." When she anxiously nibbled her lip, he added, "You want me to skip? I'll come if you need me."

And his tone and eyes were all sincerity. As tempting as the offer was, Mercedes knew this was something she had face without him. It was intimidating and frightening, but it was her journey.

"No, it's fine. I'll manage. I think this is something I should try by myself, anyway. Besides, your team needs you, right?" she said, suddenly grinning. "Trouty mouth…."

"The way you say it, I almost like it." He grinned back, capturing her lips one last time before he walked toward the pool. She turned and sighed, tentatively reaching for the doorknob.

"Mercedes?"

She halted her hand, turning to him. "Yes?"

His trademark half-smile lit his face. "I'm here, you know. For everything."

Her eyes softened, touched by his concern. "I know." She nodded. "Have a great practice, babe." And with a blown kiss from his girlfriend, he ran down the hallway, already ten minutes late for practice.

It was just her and the doorknob now, the only barrier between her present and potential future.

_Easy, Mercedes. Just do it quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid._ She closed her eyes and braced herself, quickly opening the door and pushing through before she could psych herself out.

Mercedes counted to three and, with a heavy breath, finally opened her eyes. Her eyes widened in instant shock.

She expected cream walls and cold leather couches, with broken, weeping mental patients sitting in chairs, rocking back and forth in the middle of a break from reality as they wait their turn. She anticipated stern clinicians and impersonal therapists with judging looks of skepticism, assessing her as crazy with just a curt raise of a brow. Maybe even a gratuitous strait jacket and cup full of crazy pills. After all, the only therapeutic experiences she'd ever had come from dramatic television shows and one too many viewings of _Sybil._

What she didn't expect, what utterly surprised her, was the group of regular looking people, standing and laughing at regular conversation. A dozen or so of her peers, people her age, drinking soda and eating chips, listening to music and laughing like they didn't have a care in the world. Twenty or so orange plastic chairs were arranged in a circle, right in the middle of the room, amidst cream walls splashed with color. The walls were decorated with paintings and drawings that looked to be hand-crafted by the students themselves, accented by several sculptures of hearts and symbols of friendship scattered across the room. Everything felt warm and familiar, more like a hangout spot than a place for people to "dry out." It was a glorious surprise.

"Mercedes! You came!" screamed the blue-streaked Goth, wrapping the stunned girl in a tight and eager hug. "I hoped you would come! I knew you would! I totally prayed to the universe for you to show up. It hasn't failed me yet!"

Mercedes was still too shocked to respond to Erin's strange comment. "What is all this?" she asked, with an air of wonder.

Erin smiled. "Welcome to casa de la Erin! Better known as.." she did an impromptu drum roll on her lap. "Sisters of the Circle! Tada!" she exclaimed, with a wiggle of her fingers and brief kick in the air. "What do you think?"

"Not…at all what I expected," admitted Mercedes, still waiting for the wall to turn around and reveal the real meeting room, like in those cartoon mystery shows. "This is a therapy group?"

"More like a support group, dontcha kno'!" said Erin, mimicking a silly Canadian accent as she shook her embroidered S.O.S. t-shirt. "We prefer that term. The word therapy gives some girls the willies. Come on, let me introduce you to the others!" Before Mercedes could respond, the raven haired teen grabbed her hand and merrily pulled her to the small crowd of girls, curls bouncing with each whip of her head.

Mercedes shook hands and offered polite smiles, taking in all the new names and faces, but worry and fear still gnawed at her belly. What would happen? How would it happen? Would she have to cry in the first session?

Worse: would she have to relive what happened?

"So, when is this starting?" she asked Erin, anxiously taking another large swig of fruit punch from a cup Erin handed her. Erin spared her a glance from the punchbowl, gently sipping punch from a cup of her own.

"Just as soon as Bee comes in." Erin's bright blue eyes scanned the room. She suddenly gasped, jumping excitedly. "There she is! QUEEN BEE'S IN THE HIZZOUSE!"

Mercedes initially side eyed her random excitement, but all the other girls seemed to be just as thrilled to see the therapist. They crowded around her, shooting high fives and offering side hugs, clamoring to touch her however they could. It was like she was some sort of celebrity!

_What kind of therapist is she?_ She wondered. She deduced the therapist was a woman from her light laughter and sugary sweet voice. She could only see her high bun floating in the middle of the crowd, nothing else. What did she look like?

"Come on! You've got to meet Bee. She'll love you!" insisted Erin, as if reading her mind. Curiosity made her follow without protest, and the crowd parted slowly as Mercedes approached.

Her warm hazel eyes caught sight of her, and they smiled as brightly as she did.

"Hi, you must be Mercedes," said the brown-skinned woman through gleaming teeth. "I'm so happy you decided to come and hope you feel welcome enough to stay. I'm Bee."

"That's me." she replied, nervously shooting her hand out to her. "Great to meet you."

Bee took her hand in both of hers and chuckled, giving her a firm shake. "Well Mercedes, just for future reference, we're all huggers here. The next time I meet you, I hope we won't greet so formally," smiled the therapist.

Her warmth relaxed Mercedes, enough to coax the first genuine smile of their meeting. "I'll try to remember that."

Bee affectionately rubbed her shoulder. "I hope so. You seem like a great hugger."

All the girls smiled and verbally agreed.

"Now, everyone into the circle! No more wild dance parties while I'm gone. Time to work!" she laughed, clapping her hands and shooing the crowd to the arrangement of chairs. The girls groaned and pretended to be annoyed, but happily followed orders. Mercedes lagged behind, feeling far more comfortable approaching her.

"Why do they call you Queen Bee?"

"Well, my real name's Beatrice, but I've hated that name since I was three years old. It made me feel like an old maid." Both women chuckled. "So, I started going by Bee. It's shorter, easier to remember, and sounds a lot cooler that my whole name. Plus, during one of my sessions, a student told me I looked like Beyoncé. Don't you see it?"

Mercedes playfully looked her up and down, feigning a skeptic eye. "Aside from you skin tone and bone structure, I'd have to say no," she laughed.

Bee slapped a hand over her chest. "I'm insulted!" she exclaimed, pretending to be offended. "Is it the glasses? The brown hair? I got the booty, so don't even go there!"

Mercedes gave a hearty laugh. "Okay, okay! Maybe a teensy weensy bit!"

"Damn straight!" she replied. "Now, come on. Sit by me?"

Mercedes nodded happily, following her to a seat near the middle. Surveying the crowd of girls laughing and talking, no strait jackets or psychotic breaks in sight, Mercedes decided to settle in her chair and stick around for a while. She would give this a chance; she made that promise to herself and Sam. And Mercedes was never one to renege on her promises.

Plus, the familial air reminded her of another rambunctious group of friends she was all too fond of. If their welcome was any indication, these girls could be fast friends, maybe even teach her how to deal with all of this. She wouldn't be alone. There would be people who would understand her, listen without a judging eye or disgusted face.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Just maybe.

"Okay sisters! We have some new names and faces in our circle that need our welcome! Why don't we go around, introduce ourselves, and state one thing that makes us unique and totally awesome. That should get some mouths moving, right?" The circle erupted in giggles. "Alright, let's go! We'll start with Yomi….."

**O-O**

Introductions started out on an average note, polite smiles with standard answers, with everyone still feeling out the mix of the crowd. It wasn't until they were on the fifth seat—Erin's seat, naturally—that the last of apprehension left the circle. True to her personality, the unusually perky girl decked in spikes and crossbones found it fitting to demonstrate her awesome and unique talent with an impromptu hand puppet show, demonstrating her keen ability to imitate the familiar and not-so-familiar voices around her with her two hands and the cloth of her black shirt. She did everyone from Don King to Bart Simpson, and the girls nearly doubled over in their chairs when she imitated Figgins during his long winded end-of-day announcements. Erin wasn't even a McKinley student; she only caught a few minutes of his monotone, Indian drawl on her way to the Circle. Mercedes had to give the girl credit for her dead-on impression. She nearly fell over herself when she caught her matching emotionless expression and beady eyes. _Perfection._

Erin's bold move encouraged everyone to act out their talents. A blond named Erica performed a hilarious dramatic excerpt of "Green Eggs and Ham" and a pixie cut brunette named Sasha spat out random quotes from Star Wars movies: any character, any scene, from any one of the movies, _verbatim._ (Sam would have_ loved_ this circle). Mercedes couldn't wait to share, and when the rotation finally came to its end and it was her turn, she belted out her most diva-esque rendition of "Respect Yourself" with the boldness and sass to match. Her voice gave the circle new life, and everyone, dancers and non-dancers alike, sprung from their seats and got down right beside her.

Two other singers came in behind her, providing harmony and backup vocals, and the others widened the circle, giving room to an impromptu dance floor. Bee, being the chill human being she was, let the mini party continue without complaint. She even managed to get up and bust a few Beyoncé moves herself, true to her namesake, when Mercedes started a line dance to "Get Me Bodied" with a group of the girls. She popped and shimmied right alongside the diva, following flawless move after flawless move with easy precision. Two hours and three song requests later, their session was over and everyone had grown tired and closer than ever. The girls opened up, wanting to share more and more of themselves, but they were running on school time. Bee had to physically shove them out of the door in packs, demanding they "Get the hell out of here before security comes," with a light laugh. Only Mercedes, Erin, and two other girls remained behind. Bee watched them with a knowing smile, focusing her eyes on her newest pupil.

"Hey Mercedes, can you hang back for a while? I want to talk to you."

She was still laughing mid-conversation with Yomi, who she learned was a fantastic dancer, and Alex, who had some kick ass jazzy pipes of her own, when Bee called her. She looked over her shoulder at the mention of her name and nodded, quickly exchanging numbers with her new friends and promising to see them around.

"Me too?" asked Erin, blue eyes wide and hopeful. Underneath the white makeup of her cheeks, smeared from their heavy dancing, Mercedes could detect a hinting of tiny brown freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose. What was annoying about her on their first meeting had somehow morphed into adorable and endearing.

Mercedes gave her a smile and opened her arms, offering a warm hug that the Goth girl happily returned. "Yeah, Erin. I can't wait to see you again."

"Awesome!" Erin squealed. "I'm so glad we're friends now! Especially since I'm gonna be your mentor and everything."

The shorter girl's smile fell as quickly as it came. "My what? Mentor?"

"Yeah, didn't you know? That's how it works. If I recruit you and you come to our circle, I get to show you the ropes and help you on your journey! Isn't that amazeballs?" Erin pounced on her, capturing her in another tight hug, completely missing her shocked and slightly horrified expression. "Oh, this is going to be so fun! We can rock to music together and paint each other's nails! Maybe wear matching hats, too! You gotta call me and tell me what colors you wear, 'cause Tuesdays are always "Beanie Grey" for me but I can change that if you like some other color. Oh, and we can make up nicknames! How do you feel about Mimi? Too cutesy?" She finally relaxed her hold and held her shoulders, leaning back to gather her reaction. At Mercedes's frown and gaping mouth, Erin nodded her head. "You're right. You're so right. WAY too cutesy for you. I don't even think I would feel comfortable calling you that on a regular basis. We can discuss it when we get matching friendship tattoos…."

Mercedes_ had_ to interrupt her rant then. "Tattoos? Erin, I…."

"Later, bestie!" she squealed with a perky grin, already bouncing her way out the door. Mercedes shook her head when the door closed behind her new unofficially official mentor, unsure if she was more in awe or shocked by the package of contradictions that she was. She was the happiest Goth, with a bold naiveté and little sense of boundaries that seemed to attract and repel friends in one shot. Erin was definitely not for everyone's palate, but something about her made you want to know more, at least those that were willing to stick around and figure her out.

And according to the Goth, they would be seeing a lot of each other. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Don't worry, Erin's definitely different, more different than most, but she means no harm. She's actually got a wonderful heart, once you see past the heavy eyeliner and rogue jewelry." Commented  
>Bee, walking over to stand behind her. "Actually, you guys may have more in common than you think."<p>

"I highly doubt that.." Mercedes murmured softly. She turned to face the counselor. "But, you said you wanted to speak to me? What about?"

"Just wanted to know what you thought about your first day. Did it exceed your expectations?"

"It's definitely not what I expected!" she answered honestly, eyes roaming the colorful space of the room. "Not at all."

"And just what exactly were you expecting? Something a bit more Machiavellian, inject some truth serum to make you talk? Maybe some hypnosis therapy?" laughed Bee.

"Ummm…No?" lied Mercedes, blanching a bit at the mention of needles. "You guys don't do that, do you? That's not legal, is it?"

Bee laughed again, melodious and light, like a summer birdsong. "Of course not, honey! Here, let me show you something." She gestured her to the seat in front of her desk, tucked in the back of the room near the windows. Mercedes watched her pull out a book from one of the two bookshelves leaning against the wall. Bee handed it to her, pointing out the title as she sat in her chair. She made a mental note of the counselor's chair, realizing it was no different than hers. She gave her students the same comfortable plush leather that she had behind the desk. Something about that made her like the woman even more.

But, back to the book…..

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy?" read Mercedes, a bit puzzled. "What is that? It sounds…invasive."

"Not at all! Not in the way you're thinking, anyway." assured Bee. "It's what I do with my girls here and in all the other schools. Erin told you about our rotating schedule, didn't she?"

She nodded. "You go to some of the neighboring schools, right? You have some groups there."

"Yeah. Makes it more accessible to those that don't have the privilege of driving themselves to school," she added. "But what I do, what cognitive behavioral therapy is, in an oversimplified nutshell, is the changing of one's thoughts to affect one's actions. So much of what we do is ruled by our thoughts, usually negative, irrational opinions of ourselves that damage us and our relationships with others. What I do is help you identify those thoughts, bring them to light, and give you healthier alternatives. The idea is, you change the voice in your head, it helps change your response, and ultimately changes your view of life."

Mercedes eyes widened. "You sound like a self-help ad."

Bee chuckled. "I suppose. But, you're not doing it alone. You have me and a support group of your peers to help you through it, some who've been in the circle for a while and some who are as new to therapy as you are. It's always helpful to have a network of people guiding you on your journey." Bee paused, scrunching her brow in thought. "Speaking of guidance..."

Mercedes had been staring at the book in her hands during their discussion. Everything about therapy suddenly seemed heavier. She looked up at Bee, realizing she had stopped talking. "What about it?"

Bee folded her hands, leaning forward on the desk to make the conversation more intimate. Mercedes imitated her movements, scooting her chair forward toward the desk and leaning on her hand.

Bee's eyes were kind, but pensive. "You seem like a smart girl Mercedes, more mature and secure in yourself than most of my new clients."

"Thank you." She smiled politely.

"It's why I feel you can handle what I'm about to ask you."

Her face fell. "What? Is it something serious?"

Bee paused for a few more moments before continuing. "Mercedes, have you given any thought to what you'd hope to gain from our sessions? What is it you're looking for in therapy?"

"What do you mean?"

Bee wheeled her chair beside the teen, removing the barrier of the desk between them. "Some girls come looking for security, comfort in knowing their not alone. Some come for validation, for someone to tell them that what happened to them isn't their fault. Some come just to vent, to sort out their feelings. Some for all of these reasons. But, I have a feeling that you're not quite sure why you're here."

Mercedes fell back in her chair, not quite understanding her question. "For all of those reasons, I guess. Why does it matter?"

"Mercedes, I don't want you to ever feel forced to come here. I know you have a lot of people telling you that you should: Erin, Mr. Figgins, Me." She stopped for a moment, and then added, "The blond I caught outside my door that I assume is your boyfriend."

Everything suddenly clicked. "You heard our conversation, didn't you?"

Bee nodded. "More saw than heard, but yeah." At her defeated sigh, she quickly added, "Mercedes, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being unsure. You're not supposed to have it all figured out right away. A lot has happened. And I know your boyfriend—"

"Sam."

Bee smiled. "Thank you for sharing that. I know that Sam meant well in encouraging you to come. He was frantic on the phone when he called asking for a session with me. I've dealt with a lot of boyfriends in my career, and I don't know many young men who care enough to seek help for their partners. You guys must be pretty serious."

Mercedes fiddled with the small silver string bow wrapped around her ring finger. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure he's the love of my life. He's everything I never expected, but desperately prayed for. So supportive of me, encouraging my dreams…." She smiled fondly at the thought of him. "He's my Prince Charming."

Bee reached out to rub her arm, offering a warm smile. "And I'm so happy you've found that. Everyone deserves to find that," she said sincerely. "I couldn't think of a young woman more deserving."

Gently, Bee tucked a finger under her small chin, bringing them eye to eye. "But Mercedes, the thing about therapy is that no one else can do it for you. You can have encouragement, support, and all the help in the world, but this has to be a personal decision and a personal choice. I don't want you to feel pressured into this—"

"But, I don't feel pressured." Mercedes shrugged.

"Maybe not at the moment. But trust me, if you don't make the decision within yourself to seek help, you will end up resenting everyone around you who told you to do it. This journey can get painful, sometimes heartbreakingly so, and there will be times where we'll have to uncover thoughts and feelings that you'd rather keep dormant." Mercedes swallowed hard, biting her lip. "But, the end is healing, and joy and, with hard work, small steps to recovery. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, I can promise you that much. It just won't be easy to get there. I just want you to realize that the experience can be a one track road sometimes, Mercedes. There isn't always room for others to travel with you. That's why I want you to identify the reasons why you're seeking therapy. It'll help you to self-motivate during those hard times, when there isn't anyone around to help you."

Her large, brown eyes drifted to the side, lost in anxious thought. Why _was_ she here? What exactly did she want? Could she handle going alone?

"I guess I…I hadn't thought about it." She admitted, in a small voice.

"And that's okay, dear. It's why I'm here, to bring the tough questions to light." She studied her face, patiently analyzing the array of emotion.

"Look, why don't you go home and give it some time, hmm?" she offered. "No decisions have to be made today. And I still encourage you to come to the circle when you can. I think it would be a great help. Our next meeting at McKinley is on Friday. It's our end of the week session, so you'll get to meet some more of the other girls from other schools. And I'm sure they'd go bananas over your rendition of _Love on Top,_" smiled the counselor, throwing up her hands. "Or _End of time, _I'm not particular! Just as long as I can pop to it." Bee did a small booty bounce in her chair.

Mercedes shoulders shook in a silent chuckle, but she remained pensive, fiddling with her fingers.

"I can tell, just by meeting you today, that you aren't the type to let people dictate the decisions you make. At your best, you may even be a spitfire of sass and confidence. I can tell! Use that now. Tap into that part of you again, and cancel out all the outside voices telling you what you should and shouldn't do. Figure out what _you_ want," Bee gently chided.

"It's like the great Aristotle once said, '_Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom_.' Own that."

**O-O**

She spotted him as soon as she left the counselor's office, still slick and dripping from swim practice. His sparkling eyes and warm smile never failed to send her heart all aflutter, and for a moment, every morose thought left her mind.

"Hey beautiful, glad I caught you," he said as he approached her, pressing an eager kiss to her mouth. "Coach kept me back a little later than expected for extra practice, something about my form being off. But babe, my twirl was flawless! I'll be damned if I didn't execute the manliest triple pirouette the synchronized swim world has ever seen, pointed toes and everything! You would have been so proud."

She laughed at this dorkiness, reaching to wipe a stray drop of water from his dimpled cheek. "I'm sure I would have, babe. Can't wait until your next meet."

Her tone caught his attention. Her joy felt reserved, controlled even. But, he knew well enough to tread lightly. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions. It never ended well when he did.

"So, what about you? How was everything? Was it as horrible as you thought it would be?" Sam smiled, hoping his questions didn't seem too much like digging.

To his delight, she shook her head. "No, actually, it was surprisingly fun. I met some great girls and had a great time getting to know them." She sighed. "Honestly, it was the most honest fun I've had in a long time." She stopped talking, wearing an odd expression.

"So what's wrong?" he saw her struggle for words, then shrug, not knowing what to say. He stopped them in their tracks, gently twirling her into his arms.

"Okay, what's wrong and who do I have to kill, hmm?" He was only half joking. "Did something happen?"

"No. I mean, not really. I wouldn't call it wrong, just…" she bit her lip, trying to explain. "I got a lot to think about is all."

"Understandable." Nodded Sam, "We knew this wouldn't be easy, babe." He toyed with the curl of her bang, tucking it lovingly behind her ear so he could see her eyes. "What was said? Do you wanna talk about it?"

"She asked me why I'm going to therapy."

Sam looked as confused as she felt. "Oh?" That wasn't what he was expecting her to say.

"I know, right? What a question…"

"Doesn't she know? I thought Figgins told her everything." He pushed open the double doors, letting her walk in front of him. "And if he didn't, I told her over the phone when I called, at least the general details. Why would she ask you that?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "She said I should figure out why I want to go for myself. She saw us talking earlier, when you were trying to convince me to go."

Sam's eyes grew dim. "Was that wrong?"

"No, babe, she doesn't blame you for anything." She answered gently. "I don't either." He grew bright again. "It's just that she thinks figuring things out for myself would give me some clarity."

He let go of her hand as she pulled out her car keys. "Do you know why you're going, Mercedes?" he asked in the most serious tone. Her hand dropped from the keyhole and she turned to face him with a passive shake of her head.

"Honestly? I thought it was because I was supposed to. I was supposed to go to therapy is because it would be good for me and help me through all of this." Her gaze dropped. "I just don't know why I _want_ to go."

"Don't worry, Mercy. I'm sure it'll all become clear." Sam smiled proudly. "You are one of the smartest people I know."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?"

"Hell to the yes! Maybe one of the smartest people ever!" grinned Sam. "Next to Darth Vader and Jesus, of course."

She guffawed, rolling her eyes. "Of course."

"Hey, don't use that tone with the Vader, woman!" he jested. "Death star was genius, despite its untimely end. And Jesus—Oh, man! Jesus was a G! Dude got whipped, scourged, nailed to a damn tree, bled to death, and _still_ came back to life like, "Screw you, Judas! I'm gettin' mine! Uh!" He threw up a random gang sign. "Motha effin' Christ!"

Mercedes's chin trembled from the effort of holding back her laugh. "Is that biblical, Sam?"

"Yeah, it's written in there somewhere. Right after his spirit rose from ashes, shaking the earth with a mighty pound of his fist." Sam thumped his closed hand against his chest. "Messiah fo' life!"

He tucked a finger under her jaw, smiling wider when he caught the plump of her cheek and shake of her shoulders. "Is that a laugh, Ms. Jones? Am I funny to you? Ain't anything funny bout scripture now!" he teased, tapping a stern finger against her nose. Mercedes giggled and her nose wrinkled adorably with every small cackle from her belly. It was Sam's most favorite sound in the whole world. Everything was better when she laughed for him.

"See? I knew I could get you to laugh at me! I didn't rehearse eighteen years of bad material for nothing!" he exclaimed, joining her merriment when her giggles spiraled out of control. Deviously, he tickled her sides, right near the spot that arched her back and made her feet twitch, just to see what other sounds she made when she was happy. He bit his lip in surprise when she snorted over and over, so hard and so rapid that she could hardly speak. She threw her head back wildly, screaming in mirth as she tried to squirm away from his quick and relentless fingers.

"Ahh! Sam, you jerk! STOP! Sta-hop! Please!" She was in tears and her belly cramped from the force of her laughter. He tickled lower and lower, across her back and belly, and she fell in his arms.

"OMIGODSTOP! Stop or I'm gonna pee!" she screamed.

Sam feigned innocence. "What? I'm sorry, what was that? More?"

"NO! God, No-hoh! I mean it, Sam!" But her pleas fell on deaf ears. She suddenly shrieked, falling back and kicking her legs when he lifted her off the ground and toyed with her belly button.

"Mmmh! Sam, you ass! I hate you!" she cried.

"You don't mean that. You don't mean a word of it." He growled playfully in her ear. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Say you don't mean it."

"No, never!" his hands roamed again, moving faster. "Okay! OKAY! I give up! No más! I didn't mean it!"

"Say you love me!"

"I LOVE YOU, Fuck! Now let me go!" Satisfied, he relented and let her go, settling her feet back on the ground. After catching a quick breath, she swatted his chest.

"You jerk! I could have peed!" she exclaimed. But, her face shone with a grateful merriment that said otherwise. Her smile held freedom.

"What? Can't you think of a better way to make you smile?" he asked over her shoulder.

Mercedes tapped her chin. "Hmm…I don't know. I get pretty happy with kisses, too," she answered, coyly eyeing his lips. "Those make me _very _happy."

"Is that so?" said Sam, thickening his accent. "Whadya know? I could of kissed the frown away." He ran his fingers through her hair, bringing her head closer. "Imagine that."

"Ass…" she mumbled against his lips, cupping his cheek to join them. He happily took her lips, delighting in the feel of his girlfriend.

He tasted salty from sweat and chlorine, and his lips were weathered from lack of Chap Stick, but he had never felt so good against her skin. She heard him sigh, and he tilted his head to suck the pout of her bottom lip into his mouth. His tongue swept across the soft skin, taking its time to savor the flavor of his girlfriend. She was all raspberries and mint, an invigorating, sinful combination that made him want to taste every corner of her, just to see if she was more fruit than wintergreen. She opened wider for him, giving his roaming tongue room search her. She eagerly pressed in, suddenly desperate to feel him closer and deeper in.

His chest felt gloriously firm against her back, all hard and hot muscle hugging her close. She moved to turn in his embrace, curious to feel his tight body mashed against her breasts. At her slight movements, he held her tighter, rooting her with strong arms wrapped around her stomach. She felt too good where she was to move now.

Plus, her little mewling cries and soft ass pressed against his bulge was a feeling he would never tire of. Instinctively, his hands crept lower, skating past her waist and down the front of her blue jeans, feeling for the liquid heat as wonderful as her mouth. His fingertips brushed against the small tuft of damp curls. She moaned louder, and immediately, he realized his error and flinched. He pulled back and stepped away to leave a good amount of distance between them.

Her lips remained suspended in air, puckered and searching, until her body accepted his absence.

She blinked through the haze of desire. "Why did you?-"

"I'm sorry." He panted, adjusting his pants to ease the strain of his erection. " I should have stopped. It was too fast."

"For who?" she asked, still dazed from desire.

"For both of us. It's too soon." His breathing slowly evened. Sam's mouth twisted in discomfort. "Especially after last week." He added, "And…Friday."

She didn't have to see his eyes to know they were brimming with guilt. Her heart sank. It had left her so quickly.

"Oh, right." She rubbed her arms awkwardly, hugging herself. "Way too soon."

A brief, cool gust of wind blew in the space between them. Sam broke the pause.

"You want me to drive? I can walk home after."

His offer felt remorseful. It broke her even more.

"S'Okay. I can drop you." She said quietly. "No need to walk."

They gave each other understanding smiles to ease the uncomfortable silence, a brief curve of the lips that promised their moment would come again. Maybe not today, but when it was their time. It was enough to move them from their spots and into the truck, starting the truck and pulling out of the parking lot with nary a word.

Ten minutes into their drive, Sam spoke.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. The words fell far too easy from his lips lately.

Her pained eyes drifted his way, lost in his sea of torrid green.

"So am I," she hoarsely replied. "I'm sorry, too."

It was the truth. She was sorry, and she believed he was, too. And, without saying, she figured they were apologizing for the same reasons, having less to do with his forward touch and more to do with why that touch wasn suddenly forbidden.

**O-O**

The end of the week came sooner than anyone expected. Summer was fast approaching, the days were growing warmer and shorter, and time seemed to slip through one's fingers if one didn't keep careful tabs on the clock.

Such was the case for Beatrice Potter who, in an unusual break from her OCD punctuality, had completely lost track of time typing her clinical notations. The circle was scheduled to start promptly at four, and it was already thirty before the hour when she'd realized she was running late. Luckily, today's session was hosted at McKinley, less than ten minutes away from her apartment. With a quick slip into her business pumps, a shrug into a light tan blazer, and swift maneuvering through the back roads, Bee clacked her heels down Mckinley's linoleum with twenty-two minutes to spare. If she hurried, she could swing just enough time to set up and organized her thoughts for today's session.

Her hands overflowed with bags and folders. Biting the smallest suitcase handle between her teeth, she freed a hand and dug in her coat pocket, sifting past her cell and pack of gum until she heard the jingle of keys.

In her hurry, they slipped out of her grasp as soon as they left her pocket. With a sigh and suck of her teeth, she placed her belongings in a carefully arranged pile to the left of the door so she could pick them up. She silently cursed her intelligence. A smart woman like her should have known the inevitable outcome of this scenario…

But, thank goodness for the accidents that lead to fateful realizations. If Bee hadn't dropped her keys, she never would have noticed that she had grabbed the wrong set in her hurry from the car. The keys for the McKinley doors were still tucked away in the small overhead compartment of her Camry.

And, if the wrong keys hadn't fallen at that inopportune moment, Bee would have never looked to her right, and would have completely missed the short, hooded figure curled against the doorframe, lost in sleep.

"Mercedes?" She stirred at the mention of her name, rubbing her eyes but saying nothing. Her eyes were red and puffy, but her cheeks appeared dry. She hadn't been crying, at least not recently.

Mercedes finally moved the red and white hood away, lightly smoothing any fly aways that were caused from rubbing against the fabric.

"Sorry, Queen Bee. Didn't mean to scare you. I was just waiting here until you showed up and I guess I fell asleep." she shrugged. "Didn't get much last night."

"You've been waiting since after school?" she nodded. That was nearly an hour ago. "Why, dear? What's up?"

Mercedes squared her shoulders and strengthened her resolve, answering, "I want my boyfriend to be able to touch me without flinching."

"I'm sorry?" she blinked, puzzled. Her mind was still on rush mode, moving far too quickly to make the connection.

"You asked me to figure out what I wanted. Why I'm making the decision to come to therapy, right?" Bee slowly nodded. "That's my reason."

"Oh." The counselor cast down her light eyes in understanding, scrunching her brow. "Oh, I see."

"But that's not the only reason." Mercedes continued. She rose to her feet, stepping forward until they were eye to eye. She recited every word without blinking. They were practically ingrained in her after thinking over her answer last night.

"I want to be able to walk through my school parking lot without haunting flashbacks looming over my shoulder. I want my friends to have the freedom to sneak up behind me and try to scare me, without it resulting in me bursting into tears because they whispered "Boo" too close to my ear and drudged up terrible memories. I want genuine smiles, laughter that isn't practiced, and joy that isn't a mask for how I really feel inside." Her eyes watered. "I want summer again with my boyfriend, long and lazy days of carefree trips and idle conversation. No more discussions about fitful tremors in my sleep or cries in the dark."

"I want daddy to look at me as _me_, his daughter, not one of his patients he needs to fix when they come with something broken. I wanna play happy songs on the piano again, and sing in the choir…" her voice cracked harshly under the pressure. Her throat constricted, tight and hot and no amount of gentle clearing seemed to move the lump lodged just above her vocal chords. But, she pressed on.

"I want this—therapy—because I was sexually assaulted on a Friday evening like this one, and it has followed me like a horrific shadow every day since then," she sighed, feeling the weight of her words tumble down her tongue and leave her body. It was scary and freeing. She dried her eyes in the sleeve of her boyfriend's sweatshirt, finding courage when his smell drifted and lingered past her nose. She bit her lip, smiling against her arm when the memory of his lips against hers flooded back to memory.

"I want freedom, Bee," she confessed, clinging to the desperate hope in her heart. "I don't know if that was exactly what you were asking for, but it's what I want. I want to fight to get my freedom back."

The counselor stood gob smacked. Never, not _once _in her near twenty year career of counseling young girls, had she heard a confession that shook her soul as much as this one. This young woman's words weren't hers alone; it was everything her girls sought, but couldn't always articulate. It was what all her clients wanted. Hell, if she were honest, it was what every woman wanted: to travel without fear, to been seen as more than fragile emotions and soft curves. What Mercedes asked for was comfort in her skin. She needed to know it was safe to be female in a world of hungry scoundrels of men.

All the books she'd studied just didn't seem to say enough about this.

"Is that enough, Bee? Because I would really like to come back," she asked in an innocent voice, all doe eyes and unfettered trust.

"Yes, honey. Of course that's enough. Come here," she sobbed. And true to their agreement, Mercedes fell into her arms and accepted her hug, giving just as good as she got.

"It's a start, right?" said Mercedes, with a small chuckle against her shoulder.

Just this once, propriety be damned, Bee broke protocol and pressed a gentle kiss in her hair, rocking her excitedly in her arms.

Just this once, she was glad to be running late.

"It's a great start, Mercedes." Bee said through a tearful smile. "A damn great start."

**O-O**

**Whoo! What a chapter! So, in summary: Erin is still annoyingly perky as hell, Bee is the most boss counselor ever, Sam's the best most supportive boyfriend ever, and Mercedes is figuring things out for herself. **

**Next chapter's title is Validation, discussing its importance, what happens when it's not given, and how important it is to the healing process. We'll hear from glee club again (yay!) and have a more in depth look into the therapy session (double yay!). Plus, we'll learn a little bit more about why Erin is the way that she is (Hmmm…..). **

**And did I mention next chapter is the end of Eddie and Larry's suspension? Donovan's still tucked away at home, but his goonies are free to play. Will they make a move without their leader being there? Do they have the balls? How is everyone going to deal with it if they do? (Dun dun duuuunnnnn….)**

**As always, share your thoughts of this chapter with me! Review, PM, write a letter, send me a telegram, whatever! I love to hear your thoughts and value your insight.**


	16. Chapter 15 Validation

**What? What's that? An UPDATE?**

**Hell yeah it's an update!**

**Finally, I was able to crank this baby out and release it for your reading pleasure. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Just an FYI for those who read my mini summary of this chapter in last chapter's author notes, there has been one minor adjustment. Erin's story will not appear until next chapter (since this chapter was getting entirely too long.). It's an important one, and needs time and space to be told. Everything else, however, appears as promised. Enjoy!**

There were some moments, in the light of day, when Mercedes had a difficult time deciphering between dream and reality. She considered herself a realist in the traditional sense—calm, pragmatic, slow to judgment—and didn't often spend much of her time daydreaming. But ever since the attack, even the real things in her life seemed a bit hazy and unclear. Her thoughts would muddle, images in her mind were distorted, and she often caught herself losing precious hours staring into space, replaying scenes over and over again in her mind.

When did she lose the upper hand with him? Was there something in his voice, his tone, that could have warned her if she listened more closely? Did he push her down or did she fall over into the truck? Why didn't she notice Larry and Eddie leave, and what possessed her to follow this boy she barely knew to the back of his truck in the dark of the day?

Had she said or done something to lead him on? Maybe a misguided wink or flirty glint in the eye that was misinterpreted? Sam used to tell her that her subtle actions were her sexiest ones. If she did, if that's what happened at the crucial turning point of their encounter, were all of his actions unwarranted?

"Mercedes…"

She knew her performance was far too sexy, she just knew it. She should have insisted with Santana, demanded a private audience….

"Mercedes…."

And why did she change into her _tight _black jeans that evening? Her looser pair would have been far more comfortable and useful….and her ass didn't look nearly as pronounced in them…

"Hello? Earth to Mercedes! Where the hell are you, Mars?"

"Unless Mars is in Sam's pants, you've got the wrong daydream destination, Chang" Santana interjected, picking off the blood red polish from her nail. "She's got dick on the brain, obviously. It was my cover expression, once upon a time when I was straight…."

"Wait, you were straight before?" asked Brittany, in a clueless tone only she could master. "But, I thought you said you liked girls since you were little, that you were born that way. We sang a song about it in glee club and everything, so it has to be true…"

Mercedes shook herself back to reality. "Sorry?" she said blearily, squinting her eyes. All this thinking had taken its toll, both physically and mentally.

"Well, well! Welcome back to the land of the living, chica!" Santana exclaimed, smiling. "I'm terribly sorry for the lack of testosterone, but your man isn't readily available."

"No, I wasn't thinking about Sam."

Tina rolled her eyes. "Mmmhmm..." she smirked, side-eyeing her friend knowingly.

"I wasn't!" she defended, "My mind was…somewhere else."

"Ooh, do tell! Scouting another boy already? I agree. Trouty is _so _last week." Santana waved her hand dismissively, turning to her friend. "Is that what that whole scene was about in the lunchroom? Had to ditch him while you still could?"

"Yeah, you were in an awful hurry out of there, honey." added Tina. She gasped at a sudden thought. "You two didn't have a fight already, did you?"

Santana gasped as well. "Stop it, did you?" she leaned in closer, growing angry at the thought. "Because if trouty fucked up—and I mean even a little fuck up—I will wring him by the lips and fling him to kingdom come. Just say the word, girl." Tina shook her head and sighed. "I'm serious, chica! I will make him wish he kept his ass in Kentucky. I always have a gang of violent miscreants on speed dial, just in case." Santana pulled out her phone and pressed the number three button, shoving it in her friends' faces as she pointed to the screen. "See?"

Sure enough, "Violent Miscreants" were listed near the top of her address book. "All you have to do is say go."

"Santana, there's no need for violence." tutted Tina with a wave of her finger. "I thought we were working on this. Remember? "The three steps to keeping your cool?""

"Screw your Asian hypno-therapy, Tina! He hurt my girl! No one hurts anyone unless _I say so._" Santana declared. "Besides, Mercedes bent over backwards doing that show for his ungrateful ass. The least he can do is treat her right and man up when they have a little disagreement."

"I would be mad too if my boyfriend was hiding Mars in his pants." All three girls cast a confused glance Brittany's way. "What? Isn't that what you guys were talking about?"

"Guys, Sam and I didn't fight." insisted Mercedes, "We're just…giving each other some space. That's all." then added, "And I _wasn't _thinking about him."

"Then what were you thinking about? Whatever it was looked pretty serious." asked Tina, genuinely concerned. She noticed her friend, sitting silent and solemn in a corner, as soon as they entered the choir room for Mr. Schue's emergency meeting. Mercedes didn't even flinch when they sat next to her and hardly moved when they called her name. She seemed absorbed in an emotion Tina couldn't quite place, but the budding therapist knew enough to recognize that whatever was on her mind was far more serious than a small relationship squabble. Tina just brought up Sam to get her talking.

"It was nothing, T." Mercedes sighed, shrugging her shoulders and falling back in her seat. "Nothing important."

And off she went again, staring into space with that unusual expression. Tina knew her friend to excel at many things, but she failed terribly at being a convincing liar. "And I assume _nothing _made you and Sam give each other space only _two weeks _after getting back together?"

Mercedes grasped for words, struggling to come up with an explanation that would satisfy her friend without giving too much away. She wasn't ready to share what happened—not yet.

"I—well-"

"Honey, what's going on? We promised to tell each other everything. We pinky promised, remember?"

Mercedes looked away from Tina's probing eyes. The guilt was too much to handle on top of all this. She bit her lip and looked ahead, refusing to say anything. Luckily, (or unluckily, depending on the perspective), Mr. Schue shuffled in the choir room and clapped for the room's attention before Tina could further probe for answers.

"Alright guys! Sorry to interrupt your busy Monday, but we've got important glee news do discuss." Will began. "Now, we just got word of the theme for nationals-"

"OH! Is it Broadway? Barbra? Bette? I'm sure whatever it is, I'll be able to handle it with little effort." sing- songed Rachel, "They are, after all, at the very heart of me. I practically breathe the legends."

"Well, judging from your senseless drabble, I assume you practically _breathed _one too many exhaust fumes as well." sassed Santana with a roll of her eyes. "Now, you were saying, Mr. Schue? Before we were so annoyingly interrupted…"

Rachel huffed as the room erupted in light guffaws and quiet giggles. "Thank you, Santana. And Rachel, I'm sure you'll be able to handle a solo or two if we all agree to work hard and practice often. Now, this year's theme is a bit of a stretch from what we usually do and we're gonna have to really step it up if we want to bring home the trophy. It is senior year for most of us—"the seniors gave sad smiles, putting their arm around or leaning against their significant other. Even Quinn and Artie managed to find each other with a glance and a small grin. The ache in her heart grew when Mercedes realized Sam wasn't there for her to partner up with. He'd been avoiding her since last Tuesday. "—and nothing would satisfy me more than bringing home the first victory McKinley has seen in nearly fifty years. Who's with me?"

The glee club whooped and hollered in agreement, stomping their feet in excitement. "Alright, alright! I love the enthusiasm." Will smiled, gesturing for them to settle down. "Now, on to the hard part." He walked toward the dry erase board with his black marker. "This year's theme is…."

Everyone leaned forward in their seat as he wrote this year's theme, large black letter after large black letter on the board.

"VINTAGE!" Everyone except Quinn, Rachel, and Brittany moaned in protest.

"Oh come on! You can't be serious!" Puck argued. "I'm so tired of this old people stuff."

"Yeah, Mr. Schue, I have to agree." added Mike. "I mean, the forties and fifties were swinging and all, but I kinda wanted to go out with some sweet moves from _our _decade."

"Hey guys, we've got the wrong attitude about this!" Finn stood up, addressing the crowd. "Now, we don't have our choice of theme, but we do have a say in how we're going to attack it. It's like we say in football: Heart is everything. I say we go out there, give it our all, and leave all of our passion for performing out on that stage. Give Vocal adrenaline and all of our competitors a run for their money! Who's with me?" he yelled.

"Sit down Gigantor and stop trying." Spat Santana. Finn lowered his arms slowly and sat awkwardly in his seat.

Rachel rubbed his back. "I thought it was an inspiring speech, babe." She turned to Santana. "You don't have to be so evil, you know. He was just trying to help."

"I'm sorry, is the hobbit talking to me?" Santana said to Brittany. "Do you speak hobbit, babe? 'Cause I'm having a hard time understanding."

"Well, I haven't spoken it since I was three, so it's a stretch." Brittany said simply. "Could you repeat it again, Rachel? Maybe your accent's throwing me off."

Rachel huffed and rolled her eyes at Santana's smirk. She said nothing else, promptly turning back around to attend to her boyfriend.

"Now guys, like it or not, Finn has a point. It may not be our choice for nationals, but it's what we've been given. The least we can do is have a positive outlook about it. No pouting or complaining" Will looked to Santana, "or snarky remarks to each other. Got it?" The crowd grumbled and murmured their agreement. "Great! Now we can win this, I have no doubt about it, but we're gonna have to change a few things."

"What do you mean?" asked Tina.

"I mean we're gonna have to rehearse round the clock. More hours, more focused rehearsals, with more days a week. I called you in because our Monday meetings will become a regular thing. Next week, I want us to start practicing every day after school." The kids started to argue, their words a flurry of previous obligations and other afterschool activities they've dedicated themselves to, but Will quickly shushed them. "Now I know this is a lot to ask, but if we want this, we're gonna have to work hard for it. Now, I'm committed. I'm hoping you guys are willing to make the sacrifice and commit to it, too." At the room's silence, he added, "These are our final weeks together, guys. Some of you are never going to perform with the people sitting next to you again. And except for reunions, you might be too busy to see each other again."

"Don't say that, Mr. Schue. We'll see each other. I love these guys." Said Tina, near tears. Mike lovingly offered his sleeve for her to dab her eyes. She took it with a grateful smile.

"And we love you." Mike whispered to his love, kissing her nose. "But Mr. Schue has a point. It won't be the same, not like it is now. I won't be able to high five Puck when I walk into math class, or fist bump Sam on his awesome guitar skills. I won't see Tina every day, save for Skype chats and visits over break. I'm gonna miss that. I don't wanna waste time being mad about a stupid nationals theme; I want to enjoy hanging out with my glee crew. You guys are the best friends I've ever had." Everyone smiled fondly as he stood.

"I'm committed, Mr. Schue. Dorky bowties and all." He declared, stretching out his hand.

"Hey yo, bowties aren't dorky. They're fly." Artie insisted, fiddling with his own red satin one. "Takes real swag to wear one. But, I get your point. I'm in, too." And Artie slapped his hand over Mike's.

"Me too." Quinn said coolly, gently laying her hand over Artie's. "The whole fifties thing could be fun. We could wear hoop skirts and Mary- janes like they did in movies. Plus, I can pull of a mean glory roll." she smiled, fluffing her hair.

Santana reluctantly agreed. "Okay, okay, I'm in! Enough with the sappy stuff!" she put her hand in the pile. "You're gonna make my eyes leak."

"Maybe a little eye leaking won't be such a bad thing." Tina told Santana, laying her hand over hers and giving her a light squeeze. "After we win nationals. Together." Santana leaned over and rested her head on the brunette's shoulder, biting the corner of her lip in her attempt to not cry. Tina promptly leaned her head atop hers and softly nuzzled the curl of her side bangs, understanding completely and silently praising her attempt to openly display her emotions. They ha d all come a long way.

"I'm in if Santana's in." Said Brittany, kissing her girlfriend's cheek before reaching in to join the pile.

"You all did wash your hands, right? No picking out eye crusties or scratching unmentionable places before this hand pile?" Sassed Kurt, rubbing antibacterial gel into his hands as he eyed the array of hands warily.

"Babe, S'okay. " Blaine stilled his rubbing hands, smiling at his boyfriend's adorable antics. "I don't think a few germs will kill us." He put both of their hands in, giving kurt's knuckle an affectionate rub. Kurt blushed and smiled back, both at the small gesture of love and the reminder of what was truly important.

"We're in, too." Sugar chimed in, eagerly putting her hand in. Joe and Rory nodded and followed suit. "For you guys. It hasn't been long, but it already feels like I've known you forever."

"Well, I've been these guys for four years, and I fully intend on knowing them forever." Finn placed his large hand on top of the pile. "We're gonna do this right. Start together…."

"End together. " finished Rachel, sending her boyfriend a loving look as she joined the pile. She glanced around the circle, staring into the eyes of her friends and smiling. "The way it should be."

"Definitely." Will softly agreed, joining their pile of hands in solidarity. Everyone looked expectantly to Mercedes, the only hand absent from the group.

"How about it, Mercedes? You in? We can't finish this without you."

"Yeah, babe. You're one of the first five! We need you." pleaded Artie.

Mercedes focused on the rainbow of piled hands and hesitated, sucking in her bottom lip.

"Every day practice, huh?" she asked in a solemn voice. She saw Tina and Santana frown and squint at her tone.

"Yes. It's what's required of us. To be the best, we demand the best of ourselves." Will insisted, looking to all of them. "Sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the greater good of the group."

"Are you willing to make the sacrifice, Mercedes?" asked Rachel, "because even one weak link in the chain can break us all."

Mercedes eyes darted to the Jewish girl, suddenly angered at her words. "I'm not weak." She told her with a bite in her tone. Mercedes slowly slipped her hand in, completing the circle. "And I'm certainly not going to break us now. Count me in." The whole group cheered and rewarded her with smiles, but inside, her stomach dropped at her promise. Practice every day meant no more therapy, no more Bee or sister circle or steps to freedom. No more dealing with the nameless nightmares that plagued her sleep and tarnished her thoughts. But she couldn't let glee club down, right? She's been in this since the beginning, just like Artie said. And sometimes, the individual has to make sacrifices for the good of the group. The recent events in her life had taught her to appreciate genuine friendship and the company of people you trusted. She couldn't lose that.

Plus, how could she explain responding otherwise? It wasn't the right time to tell them what happened after the performance. She couldn't even say attempted rape out loud to herself, let alone explain it to her close knit group. What would they think of her? Would they leave?

"Alright, let's do this!" Will yelled as they all cheered and lifted out of the circle as one, ignorant to the troubled eyes and trembling chin of his star diva and the worried glances her two best friends gave her in the midst of their happy applause.

Mercedes checked her phone for the twelfth time this morning, hoping to see something different. Maybe he just needed time…Maybe something happened and he forgot to tell her…..maybe…

No new text messages, said her screen.

No new calls.

No new messages.

Mercedes sighed and caught her breath, reigning in her sadness and masking it with a brave face so no one would see. Apparently, the one person that knew everything couldn't handle being around her. One wrong move and he had disappeared without a second thought or word of explanation. She wouldn't lose her friends, too.

In that instant, she made her decision. She would keep her mouth shut; attend all of the rehearsals and never look back at therapy.

_Why? _ asked her conscience, annoying her with its calm, languid voice of reason.

_Because I need it more than counseling_, she answered in her mind. Because she needed _them_ more.

Because she didn't want them to leave her with empty voicemails and shame-filled eyes like Sam had.

Them knowing would be the weak link in the chain keeping the pieces of her together. If they ever knew and left?

It would break her.

**O-O**

She avoided Santana, Tina, every inquisitive voice for the duration of Glee club and high-tailed it out of the choir room as soon as Mr. Schue declared the end of rehearsal. She didn't know what else to do; nothing made sense since she decided on therapy and started to delve into the details of her attack. Every hand suddenly felt threatening. Every eye felt judging. And wherever she turned, she saw letterman jackets and greasy black hair wearing charming smiles and clothes reeking of sweat and alcohol. She couldn't eat, speak, or breathe without being acutely aware of the people around her. Life felt like a walking prison.

She didn't know what else to do. She called Bee.

**O-O**

"Honey, I'm so glad you called me when you did. You're just in time for our session. Walk you to your seat?"

Mercedes nodded and welcomed the counselor's inviting arm around her shoulder. Spotting an empty chair, she plopped down and dropped her bag to the side, eyeing the new faces around her. It was a twenty minute drive to the session at Westlake and Mercedes hadn't bothered to stop for gas so her tank was near empty, but it already felt worth it. There was an unusual calm that came over her in the therapeutic atmosphere. Things didn't seem as hopeless. Warmth and safety captured the ambiance of the room.

"Before we get started, I want to welcome one of my students from Mckinley to our Westlake circle. I trust that you girls will make her feel just as welcome here as she does in her home school. Mercedes? Did you want to say anything? Maybe introduce yourself to the crowd?" The counselor offered her the floor with a sweep of her hand. Expectant eyes looked her way for the second time that day. But these eyes didn't threaten. They felt free of judgment.

"Um, hi? My name's Mercedes. I go to Mckinley, but you guys already knew that." She said nervously. A warm hand from the girl next to her reached out and cupped hers, giving an assuring squeeze. She didn't cast a glance to the girl, but smiled gratefully at the gesture.

"I love the color purple, I enjoy singing, and hope to be a huge star one day. That is, if I can beat out the fierce competition in LA."

"Oh, there's no _if, _girls." Insisted Bee, interrupting her. "It's way more of a _when. _This young lady has quite a gift. Make sure you get your signatures now. You'll be able to retire off the profit from Ebay sales twenty years from now."

The girls giggled excitedly and Mercedes blushed. "Thanks, Bee. I'll be sure to sign anything you want." chuckled Mercedes.

"You better! After all this free counseling, you _owe me_!" she joked, tossing her a wink. Everyone laughed then, including Mercedes.

"Now, for today's session, I want to start things off with a little personal story." The counselor took of her suit jacket and loosened the buttons on the sleeves of her dress shirt, rolling them up and settling more comfortably in her seat. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl…"

"Aww, we're telling fairy tales now?" sassed a voice from the crowd, dripping with sarcastic humor.

"No, it's a true story, but everyone loves once upon a time stories, so shut it!" The girls laughed again. "Now, where was I? Once upon a time, there was a little girl who wasn't so little and wasn't so girly. She was shy, overweight, and bullied on a regular basis for being different. This girl loved science and engineering at a time when girls were expected to do little else but bake and clean. It was a lonely, devastating place and time for her. She felt alienated by everyone. " Bee bit her lip when the girls quieted and leaned in, interest peaked at the story of a girl so much like them.

"What was her name?"

"Are names really important in stories like this? " At the array of rolling eyes, she laughed and relented. "Okay, fine. For all intent and purpose, let's call her Amelia."

"Oh, what a pretty name!" exclaimed a blonde from the crowd with the same name.

"Yes, indeed. A pretty name for a pretty girl." replied Bee. "See, the problem Amelia had was she didn't see her own beauty and worth. She didn't find it in her own mirror, couldn't find it in words from others, and refused to let anyone get close enough to her to tell her otherwise. In reality, her brown skin and freckled cheeks were endearing and she had a smile that could light up any room. And though she didn't know it, many admired her brain and envied her brave quest for something more." Bee's hazel eyes drifted to the side in fond memory. "She was a beautiful young woman, inside and out."

"What happened to her?" Mercedes asked, feeling bold enough to speak amidst the crowd. "Did she ever realize how lovely she really was?"

"Well, Amelia decided to concentrate all her energies into her studies. She bled, sweat and breathed her books. There wasn't a day you couldn't find her curled up in the corner of some library, studying some formula or extricating some profound truth from the scholars she loved while the world whizzed by around her. Absolutely nothing could distract her from her love of education. Even she was sure that she would spend the rest of her life backpacking across the world, finding new challenges and conquering them alone, without another person beside her to share in her joy." Bee smiled slyly, tongue in cheek. "And then, in her second year of studies at Duke, she took a well-desired trip to Europe and met Armando.."

"Armand! Ooohhh…." The girls cooed in unison, bursting into giggles.

"Yes, Armand." Grinned Bee, showing teeth. "Armando was a tall, tan, foreign vision of masculinity and he was taken with Amelia right away. In natural Amelia fashion, she shied away from his attentions and avoided him as much as possible. Part of her was naturally skeptical of his affections, wondering why someone like him would be interested in someone like her. After all, insecurities and doubt are all she had outside of the classroom. She didn't know what it was like to be pursued and wanted for being herself. It was all frighteningly new." Bee said with a sigh. "But, Armand wasn't one to give up. He showered her with gifts and sweet words of love on a near daily basis, even serenaded her a couple of times outside her dorm window."

Mercedes smiled as the girls sighed at the story, knowing the feeling all too well. The smile quickly left her when she realized it was all probably gone now.

"Eventually, after all his pursuits failed, he met her in the place where she was most comfortable: the library of the international student union. He pretended to read a book on astrophysics and sat beside her, hoping to catch her attention. After a few days, Amelia lifted her nose out of her books to spare him a glance. And for the first time, she smiled in spite of herself at his advances, then laughed when she realized he had been holding the books upside down." Bee laughed with the girls. "Well, laughing turned to talking, and talking eventually turned into a date proposal that she happily accepted. Needless to say, once she let down her guard, they hit it off right away. He had her laughing over a glass of wine without an ounce of self-consciousness. She felt beautiful in someone else's eyes for the first time in her life. After three weeks, Armando convinced her to marry him and move to his small flat in the city. Bright eyed and in love, she happily accepted"

"Why are you telling us this story, miss?"

"Yeah, I kind of feel like there's a huge _but_ lurking somewhere in all this." added Mercedes with a skeptic eye. "It seems too good to be true."

Bee stood and walked over to the bookshelf leaning against the far wall, skimming her fingers over a collection of worn books with a fond caress. "You're right, Mercedes." She replied, shaking her head. "As beautiful as it all sounds, nothing is ever that simple."

"Did he cheat on her or something? Beat her?"

Bee laughed sadly at the suggestions. "She wished that was all. Some nights, she prayed God would have enough mercy to reduce the abuse to just that. She told herself that she would be able to handle the beatings and the philandering. Amelia never expected his loyalty or his love, and life had conditioned her to handle being beaten on a regular basis, whether the punches were physical or emotional. _That _she could handle." Mercedes saw the older woman try to swallow away a huge lump in her throat and thwart her tears with a swipe of her hand. "But what she got from him, what Armand took, was far worse than anything she had ever had to deal with in her young life."

Her stomach swirled sickeningly at the thought of what he could have done. She had to know. "What did he do?"

Bee sighed and turned to look at her girls. "As soon as he carried her over the threshold, her loving boyfriend turned violent husband held her down and tore her apart in every way imaginable, starting with her intricately beaded ivory gown, then her pearl necklace her mother had given her before she died." Bee's hand absently touched the collar of her neck. "Then, her veil, hand stitched by the finest tailors in the city."

The girls were near tears as they realized the story's turn. "He raped her, didn't he?"

Bee let the tears fall freely. "Every day for ten years." She answered with a brief chuckle. The room collectively gasped. "But what did she know? She was in love. Abuse was normal. How would she ever know that she deserved more? She never knew how much she was worth." She looked off to the side, falling to a whisper. "No one ever told her."

"Bee?" asked Mercedes, reigning in tears of her own at her sudden realization. "Her name wasn't Amelia, was it?"

Bee looked at her smart pupil and smiled sadly. "No, honey. Her name was never Ameila."

Mercedes closed her eyes and braved her next question, refusing to look at her strong mentor until she knew. "Was the girl you, Bee?" she asked, holding her breath as she waited.

The counselor didn't answer for a long moment, just stared at the collection of books on her shelf holding dormant memories. "Her name was Maria. In a lot of ways, she was the first rape survivor I had ever studied. She was nineteen when she was violated and raped by her husband, twenty nine when she escaped, and thirty nine when she died, a mere shell of her former self. " The class looked on at her, confused. Bee quirked a sad grin at their bright, attentive eyes and clutched the space above her heart. She took a shaky breath to compose herself before she continued.

"It wasn't me, my loves." She told them, finally able to meet their eyes as she finished her story. "Maria Potter, the lovely soul, was my mother. And, Armand, her husband…" she paused, finding it difficult to say the words. "He was my father. My mother left him because she was pregnant with me."

The circle was deadly quiet, save for a few sniffles and heaving sounds that indicated held back sobs. It was all out there, swirling around them with dizzying speed, and gained momentum with each pregnant minute of silence that passed between them.

"Girls, I didn't tell you this to depress you." She confessed. "Although I know it's rather hard to hear. I know, believe me. It's my life, and it took me forever to accept. And, even after all these years, the memories of my life with him still haunt me. I never understood how someone could say they love you in one breath and be a monster to the very woman that gave you life in the next. Even after we escaped, my mother was tormented by the memories of her abuse. Sometimes, late in the night, I would hear her scream in her sleep…" Bee's eyes drifted at the memory, dimming and losing its usual luster. Mercedes could visibly see her heart breaking in her eyes.

"So, when you were born, or conceived or whatever, you were…"

"Yes, Stacy." She answered the teary blond. "I was a product of my mother's rape. If it took me long to accept the abuse, it took me longer to understand that I existed because of it all. It burdened me for so long. I was only five when I found out the truth of my conception." Bee confessed.

"How did you deal with it? And what happened to your mother?"

"My mother, after years of untreated symptoms of PTSD and little support to help her through the painful sexual violence, eventually succumbed to the pain and took her own life. An overdose on a cocktail of prescription pills she'd found in the medicine cabinet of a neighboring stranger when we stayed in the Italian hostel. She enrolled me in school and set aside all the meager savings she had for me before she went. Then, she sent me to the library to pick up a few books to read. It was so like her, to think of my education first." Bee smiled at the memory of her mother's loving arms wrapped around her as she read her bedtime stories. "She couldn't afford to send me to school since we ran away, but she made me read books well into high school and college level. I never missed a learning opportunity, she made sure of that. "

"So, why are you here?" asked a petite Asian girl with a bowl cut and black frames. Realizing her comment could be misconstrued as unkind, she added, "Not that we aren't happy that you are."

"I know what you meant, darling. Don't worry." Bee said, smiling gently to ease her. "Well, to answer both questions, I was found shortly after my mother died. I had read several books on criminology and posthumous care and knew well enough to know not to disturb her body. I called the authorities and, after they ruled her death a suicide, they took me from the hotel and kept me in temporary care until they could decide what to do with me." Bee sighed. "I lied and said I didn't know who my father was. In truth, I wouldn't have been able to point him out if he'd passed me on the street. Then they checked my mother's records and, realizing she was an American overseas on a student visa, they panicked."

"Why?" Mercedes asked. "She was already gone."

"They assumed I was American, too. I had no birth records or documentation to my name and didn't look like a traditional Italian citizen. And since they already had a potential international investigation on their hands, why waste time keeping me in the country? God knows the last thing they needed was more meddling from the Americans for keeping one of their citizens hostage. They quietly looked for any sign of living family members through private channels they had in the American Embassy. That's how they found my grandparents and sent me back here. I was one of the few fortunate ones. I was given to a loving home with people who embraced me with open arms. I was given an advantage very few foster children are given."

"So, that's why you took up psychology." Mercedes reasoned. "Because of your mother and your past?"

"Yes, partly. I'd developed a love for the human mind in my many readings and found myself gravitating to psych books. Plus, being deprived of regular human interaction early on sparked my interest in people. What drove them? Why were we different? What makes us think the way we do?" Bee asked rhetorically, pointing to her temple for emphasis. "Human beings fascinated me. But, honest truth? I think my drive to understand people stemmed from a deep seated need to understand my father and his actions. What I've learned in my years of study and practice is every action has a reason. No one does without a _why_ driving their movement. It's the foundation of my practice and the motivation for my therapy."

"What was your father's _why?"_

"Honestly Mercedes, I'm still not sure." Bee answered honestly, shrugging her shoulders and moving to rejoin the circle. "I suspect he came from a broken home, maybe was abused himself? I don't know much about him to make an accurate assessment. But, I did know my mother, as much as she would share with me. And shockingly, her story isn't all that uncommon. Now sure, all of you here may not be nerds or outcasts like she was, but some of you may relate to the need to feel validated. Everyone wants someone. Everyone needs to feel loved and accepted. Many attackers who study the women they prey on are attune to this need and pick vulnerable women and use their insecurities to their advantage."

"That's how my boyfriend got me." Said the blond girl named Amelia. "I hated how I looked. I was fourteen and twig thin, no chest or ass or anything. I joined cheerleading to get popular, and that's how Jason and I hooked up. He was a track star, a senior at my school, and drop dead gorgeous. Everyone wanted him." Amelia shook her head, golden tendrils swishing over her shoulders. "I thought I was lucky, you know? Out of everyone, he chose _me. _I felt so special and he made me feel so loved. Then, one night, everything just ..changed." She wrinkled her pale button nose in confusion. "I don't remember much of the attack. I thought it was a horrible dream. Then I woke up the next morning, sprawled on a stranger's bed in nothing but a torn shirt and bloody underwear, with some strange guy lying on top of me." Amelia sniffled and accepted a tissue from the box Bee offered her. "The doctor told me I had GHB in my system and it made me forget everything. I didn't even drink any alcohol at the party because I knew what happened to girls who got too drunk…" she broke down, crying into her soaked tissue. "I was trying to be safe. It happened anyway."

"And honey, there wasn't any reason for you to mistrust him. Why would you? He was your boyfriend." assured Bee, crouching down next to her and rubbing her back. She turned her head to address the circle. "GHB, Rophynol, Ketamine….these are all common drugs used for sexual assault. They can make you feel drunk, sleepy, weak, and make you black out completely. Worst of all, they're hard to detect if they're mixed with a sweet enough drink, like cola or fruit punch." When the blond started trembling and heaving uncontrollably, Bee and the circle gathered around her, whispering comforting words and wiping away her tears. Mercedes stayed glued to her chair, stunned.

"T-the doc-doctor s-said th-that…" Bee shushed her, instructing her to breathe deeply until she calmed down. "The doctor told me that I showed signs of repeated instances of sexual assault. It's possible that it wasn't just him." She confessed. "I felt so stupid."

"No, Amelia, you weren't stupid. There is nothing you did or could have done to make that happen. Even if you sat on that bed and drank yourself senseless, you did not ask to be violated. It's not your fault, honey."

_It's not your fault_, whispered Mercedes' conscience, _Stop blaming yourself._ She quickly shoved the thoughts away and buried them underneath her guilt.

"Bee?" she called out, catching the counselor's attention.

"Yes, honey?"

"What if the guy who…what if it wasn't a boyfriend?" She asked nervously. "What if it was someone you hardly knew? Or thought you knew, but…" she fiddled with her fingers, feeling unsure. "What if you put yourself in harm's way? Dressed wrong and flaunted yourself in front of him, then followed him even though everyone told you not to?" Everyone in her mind meant Sam, but it still hurt too much to say his name and remember what happened.

Bee looked at her for a long moment, until Mercedes had to look away from her eyes and stare at her lap. Still, in the brief moment their eyes connected, the counselor managed to find whatever it was she was looking for in her gaze and smiled with a hint of knowing.

"Mercedes, even then, you are blameless. You were victimized, whether it happened slowly through a relationship or suddenly with a stranger, and you cannot take ownership of that blame. The only thing you can take ownership of is yourself and who you decide to be afterward. Will you always be the victim? Or will you take steps to build yourself from here and call yourself a survivor?"

Mercedes stayed quiet, mulling over her words. "Girls, I want you to remember something. Never let anyone or anything else dictate who you are but _you_. You _validate yourself._ Don't wait for a boyfriend or a friend or stranger to tell you what you need to hear. Tell yourself, every day, as often as possible. Learn from my mother's example like I have. Don't kill yourself for your imperfections or your mistakes. We're all flawed and broken in places. It's what makes you _human." _ Bee stood and walked to her desk, pulling out a dry erase board littered with words in black marker and leaning it against her seat in the circle.

"From this day forward, we start on a clean slate." She crouched down and erased the words _rape victim, sexual assault, stupid, nothing, and useless. "_ The past is to be dealt with and left behind." She wrote the word _survivor _in their place, surrounding it with a drawn heart. "Your present needs you to be strong." She wrote the word _strong _above _survivor _and stood, holding the board in front of her. "It's the only way you can ever have a future. "

**O-O**

Santana tapped her chin, searching her brain for a name."Okay, Sonya Parama."

"Pfft, straight from skank city," Kurt answered, closing his locker door. "Last I heard, she got caught on the field doing four players and the coach-_at the same time. _Not an ounce of shame, poor girl." His eyes drifted upward in thought. "How about…..Mindy Middleton? The cheerleader, not the AV girl with the glasses that smells like Cheetos."

"Please, like she ever got laid," scoffed Santana. "And Mindy's clean last I heard. Honor roll, star athlete, all that jazz. Both you and I know that all that could just be code for dirt well hidden. She always did wear her skirt two inches a bit too short, and that's coming from _me_. Ah, the glory days of heterosexual whoredom." Santana smiled proudly at the memories, sighing. She added, "I miss my little man-bitches falling over my feet, paying for my lunch. Not to mention paying for my gas and getting my hair done. Hell, I even had them paying my parking tickets. One even paid for shoes twice, which was kinda weird. You know, I think that Rodney Parker had a foot fetish…"

"Aaannyway," sassed Kurt, rolling his eyes. "Quick, scan the crowd and pick someone for me."

Santana tapped her chin, scanning the crowded halls with a hawk eye. "Ooh! How about rainbow pony over there? You've got to know him. He looks almost too gay to function."

"You mean Sasha, the European exchange student?"

Santana smirked and chuckled at his name, loving how right she was. "Yeah, him. I figured you would know him."

"Of course! Have you seen him? He's gorgeous!" he whispered. Santana teasingly gasped at his confession. "What? Just because I have Blaine doesn't mean I can't appreciate the well-groomed bulging eye candy that happens to float my way, right?"

Santana's face scrunched in disgust as they leisurely made their way down the hall. "Okay, way too much testosterone in that sentence. I crossed to the other side a long time ago."

"Well, there was something you appreciated before, right? I mean, you had to find them attractive on some level to _sleep with them._" Kurt argued, side eyeing the Latina.

"Ehh, Long time ago. Ancient history." she shrugged dismissively. "All this right here?" she circled her face and pushed up her breasts. "Strictly female territory now. Ain't nobody tapping this unless they come correct. And by correct, I mean with a clit."

"Jesus, now who's TMI?" Kurt asked, pulling a face of disgust. He shuddered and shook the disconcerting lesbian sexual reference off his shoulders, regaining focus. "And to answer your earlier question, Sasha is the epitome of male whoredom. He bends over for anything with a penis. I mean, look at him!" He swept his hand to the blonde boy in question, suggestively running his hands up and down the silk tie of their overweight, and excessively hairy drama teacher. The older man grew red and sweaty from his attentions.

"He practically has a neon sign pointing to his ass saying, "Cum right in!"

"_Omigod, Kurt!_" squealed Santana.

"Well..." Kurt flashed a stray wisp of hair from his forehead in true diva fashion. "You were thinking it!"

"Yeah, but you said it!" Santana replied in a Valley Girl voice, laughing.

"Guys, you need to stop. That isn't funny."

"Yeah, psychological studies show promiscuous teens typically use sex to cover up deep seated attachment issues and insecurities." Tina flashed a hand to the girl beside her, eyes never once leaving her phone. "For example, closeted lesbian Exhibit A."

Tina and Mercedes had been walking quietly beside their friends, the former giggling and lost in flirty texts to her boyfriend while the latter clutched her books to her chest, distracted with her thoughts. Kurt's comment was off collar enough to burst their personal bubbles and bring them back to the conversation.

"C'mon guys, lighten up! You two used to love playing 'Guess that Skank' with us. What's going on?" Tina's phone chimed with a new text. Santana rolled her eyes when her friend's cheeks reddened and her eyes gave off the tell-tale glint of naughty thoughts.

"I know Dr. Chang over here is too high and mighty to subject herself to such filth anymore, what with her riding that high horse of Asian dick," Santana said snarkily. Tina stopped briefly to side eye Santana's comment before resuming the rapid pace of her typing thumbs. "But what's been going on with you? You've been party pooping since the choir room." Her voice sounded harsh, but Santana's eyes and expression read genuine concern for Mercedes.

"It's no big deal, don't worry. Besides, my response then has nothing to do with my response now. I've always hated when you guys played that stupid game. It's offensive," she spat, glowering at them both.

"Okay, jeez!" said Kurt, scrunching his brow and recoiling at the venom in her tone. "Didn't know you hated it so much!" He walked a bit ahead. "It was kind of hard to tell, with you laughing in the background at all."

"She laughed because some of the comments were funny, not because she liked the fact that you were desecrating people's characters." argued Tina, defending her friend.

"Desecrating?" Kurt sucked his teeth. "Hardly. Laying truth bombs like a land mine in the war zone that is high school? Perhaps," he said, nonchalantly.

"Oh, please! This coming from the two people who are supposed to be the poster children for McKinley's Anti-bullying campaign! You're the worst offenders!" Tina retorted, snapping the slide cover of her phone closed as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Hey, all I do is make an idle snide comment or two. This school does nothing more than bash me and who I am-who _we are_ on a regular basis," she said as she gestured to all four of them. Why in the hell shouldn't I get a chance to join in on the fun?"

The three continued to go back and forth, debating what was and wasn't considered bullying and defending their points passionately. Mercedes sighed at the three of them and walked on ahead, leaving them standing and arguing in the middle of the hallway as she walked to her locker.

"Guys, I'm just gonna put away my books. Wait up for me," she called back. Tina and Kurt nodded while Santana waved her hand in annoyance, eager to continue her point.

Her door was two rows down. _Sam's is two more after that, _her annoying conscience reminded her. She struggled with herself, trying not to think about him, but the lack of calls and texts just made her think about him even more. She tried to reason it out, tell herself that maybe something happened with his family or school and he'd gotten too busy to answer her, but she was too intelligent to believe her own lies. If something happened in the past, she would be his first call. That's how they worked; they were friends turned best friends long before they were lovers. Besides, if that were the case, she would've felt it. Something inside would have told her and she wouldn't have to worry.

She was only anxious because her insides were screaming the truth. The kiss that went too far in the parking lot pushed him away. She felt the distance grow wider between them on the drive home, and the rift had grown deeper since then. And try as she might, she couldn't shake that burden—or him—from her mind.

She turned the combination of her lock and opened the door on autopilot, shoving her books inside with unnecessary force. Well damn him, then. She didn't need a man to nurse her broken heart before him and she most certainly didn't need one to get over all her troubles now. She was strong enough to handle anything by herself, and if she needed to, so be it. Besides, didn't Bee just tell them the importance of self-validation. "_Tell yourself what you need to hear, every day, as often as possible."_ she told them.

Mercedes closed her eyes, working to re-route her frame of mind. _Okay girl, no more of this pity party stuff. You are better and stronger than this. You've got your friends worried, your family, and for what? You're not the first woman this happened to, and probably won't be the last. They survived it, lived normal lives, why can't you? Suck it up, Mercedes. Put on our brave face._

She exhaled and smiled, feeling lighter by the second. She opened her eyes and shut her locker, ready to go back to her crew and break up their little argument with a suggestion to go get ice cream, on her.

But when she clicked her lock closed, she interrupted them with the loud thud of her purse instead of her words.

Santana stopped mid-point, accusing finger poised at Tina, and all eyes turned to Mercedes. They quickly assumed the worst when she backed slowly away from the locker and slammed her back against the far wall, trembling and whimpering like she was in pain.

"Mercedes?" Their feet moved quickly in alarm, walking in her direction. "Honey, what…?"

"Oh, my god!" Kurt exclaimed, inhaling sharply. Santana's curly ponytail whipped and sprung about her shoulders as she turned sharply from Mercedes to Kurt. Before she even needed to ask, she caught sight of what shocked him and let out a horrified gasp of her own.

"The HELL?"

Tina's frantic eyes searched Mercedes' face for answers. "Honey? Oh god, Mercedes, I'm so sorry!"

But Mercedes just stood, staring numbly and shaking her head in disbelief. She repeatedly closed her eyes and opened them, hoping and praying it would disappear, that it was just her overworked imagination working her repressed fears, but it was no use.

On her locker door was a large black and white image of her, lying on her stomach in nothing but a bra, while a muscled body with Donovan's face held her down and screwed her from behind. The images of their bodies was photo shopped, obviously from some obscene porn scene, and the skin shade of their faces didn't quite match the bodies, but the size and shape of the models matched well enough to carry the point across. To add insult to injury, they used a headshot of her smiling happily, one that she recognized as the senior picture she took for the yearbook, as if she enjoyed it.

Above it, written in large black letters, read the defiling message:

**Donnie's Cunt**

"Who wrote that? Who the FUCK WROTE THAT?" Santana screamed enraged, staring down the growing crowd of students. No one said anything, just stared at the yelling cheerleader and the broken girl crumbling in the corner with interest and pity.

"C'mon, honey," Tina said quietly, trying to pull her stunned friend to her feet. "Let's go. You don't have to stay for this." Mercedes stood and took her hand, but didn't speak. If she did, she might vomit and collapse and that would not help at all.

" C'mon! You had the balls to put it up there, right? STEP UP! I WILL GO ALL LIMA HEIGHTS ADJACENT ON ALL YOUR ASSES!" Kurt tried to pull Santana away, but she shrugged him off her shoulder. "NO, C'MON! You think this shit is comedy; I'll give you some tragedy to go with it! Shakespeare throw down up in this bitch!"

"Santana, let's go. This won't help." Kurt tugged on her arm. This time, she didn't protest. Instead, she took her place on the other side of Mercedes, wrapping an arm around her waist and helping Tina push through the gawking crowd to bring her to some place private. When her legs gave, they quickly shuffled her to the nearest empty room. The janitor's closet was unlocked and unoccupied, so they brought her in and set her down on a table leaning against the wall. Kurt hurriedly pulled the door shut and locked it behind them so no one would follow and interrupt.

Once they were safe, all three of them cast a sympathetic look to Mercedes, struggling to find words of comfort to help her.

"Mercedes, I'm so, so sorry…"

"Babe, I'll kick all their asses for you. Don't you worry…"

"You didn't deserve that, Mercy. You of all people…"

They quieted again, realizing she hadn't spoken and her eyes had never left her shoes. Before the silence grew too thick, Kurt stepped forward and clasped her smaller hand in his softer one.

"Mercedes honey?" he said in a soft voice. "I know you're in shock right now. Hell, we're all in shock. And you don't have to say anything right now if you don't want to. I just want to know you're with us enough to hear what I'm about to say. If you are, can you squeeze my hand?" He sighed in relief at her weak squeeze. He looked back at the anxious girls and nodded. They smiled with him.

"Okay, good. We're off to a good start. Now, Mercedes, I know we haven't been the closest this year. It was mostly my fault, really. With Blaine and Rachel and NYADA, I lost sight of the other things and people that matter to me; the ones that were with me since the very beginning." He bit his lip, his eyes welling with emotion. "Mercedes, you were my first true friend. You were the one who told me it was okay to be different, that I should accept who I am and never apologize for it. You gave me the confidence to tell all of Lima, Ohio that I'm gay, and I'm indebted to you for it." Mercedes finally met his eyes. "Now I owe you my own personal word of encouragement, friend to friend." Kurt smiled.

"I don't know what happened back there or why, and frankly I don't care. I know the person you are, Mercedes, and you would never be the type to pass your body around like those idiots say of you. You are a beautiful, strong woman who knows her worth and have never let anyone control how you see yourself. You loved you, even when this small, narrow-minded town didn't see the wonder that you are. Right now, you're gonna need a heavy dose of that Mercedes confidence, and I mean a ginormously heavy dose," he said emphatically, shaking his head. "There are people out there ready to probe and ask inappropriate questions and stick their noses in your business without any concern for your feelings. Don't you dare let them! Don't you let that picture or those words change anything. Channel every negative feeling you're feeling right now and use it as energy to hold your head up high. Take it from someone who's had their life plastered and mocked for quite a while. True strength is only proven when that strength is challenged." He cupped her face. "You can meet that challenge, Mercedes. We know it, they know it, and the whole school knows it. That's why they are trying so hard to break you."

"But we won't let them," said Tina, kneeling beside Kurt and resting a hand on her knee. "You've got us for support."

"All of us." Santana added, resting against her other knee. "Always. We'll fight with you."

Mercedes shook her head, finally speaking. "But, you guys don't even know what happened or what I've done. What if it's true?"

"Doesn't matter. We're sticking by you. I won't let my senior year end without my true friends by my side," Santana assured. "No more secrets. No more pretending. Let's end this for real. Agreed?"

Tina and Kurt nodded. "Whatever that means, we deal with it together."

"Exactly, Teen gay. We all share the weight." She bumped his shoulder, smiling at him warmly.

"Good." They shared a brief look of understanding before Kurt clapped and continued. "Now, are we ready to go back out there? I certainly don't plan to spend the rest of my senior year back in the closet."

Mercedes cracked a smile and chuckled at his corny humor. "Oh, a smile! We've got a smile, ladies and gentleman!" Kurt exclaimed, happy to see her laugh again. "Welcome back, babe."

Mercedes stood and paused, feeling pressed to say something.

"Guys?" They looked back expectantly from the doorway. "Thank you."

All three beamed at her. "Of course!" Tina exclaimed, lacing their fingers together. "We're friends, aren't we?"

In a show of solidarity, Santana and Kurt joined as well, creating a chain of supportive hands that, Mercedes now knew, would never waver or break again.

**O-O**

Mr. Figgins sat at his desk, proudly putting the finishing touches on his proposal to erect a bronze statue of himself in the courtyard, when his door opened.

"Shane Tinsley! McKinley's star quarterback!" he greeted, motioning his hands to usher him in. "Come, my son. Sit, sit!" Shane quietly took the empty chair in front of the principal. "Now, what can I do you for?"

"Sir?" Shane paused, nervously biting his lip. "There's something I need to confess. It's about something that happened today, something you might not know about yet."

"Why sure, my boy! I wish all the students here were as involved as you are." He leaned forward on his elbows. "I'm all ears."

"Mercedes Jones..." he began. The principal instantly frowned.

"She's a student of special interest to me."

"Me too, sir, I swear." Shane insisted, a bit too eagerly. "But, something was done today that…well.."

"Speak up, son. I have a meeting to catch in fifteen minutes." He rolled his hand, beckoning the words to come.

"Sir?" The boy twisted his hands, nearly overwhelmed with guilt. "A lewd photo and message was placed on her locker."

Figgins's face scrunched in concern. "Oh." He dropped back heavily in his swivel chair, sighing deeply. "Oh, I see. This is quite troubling."

"It is, sir." He agreed. "But that's not what I came to tell you."

"Oh?" he resumed his earlier position. "Then, please continue."

Shane nodded, looking down. "I'm here to turn in the person who did it."

Figgins had his suspicions, but he was happy to have an eye witness to confirm. "Just name the culprits, young man, and he will serve his due punishment. I will make sure your confession stays anonymous and you won't be harmed."

Shane anxiously rubbed the back of his neck, shifting in his seat. Finally, he squared his shoulders and met the principal eye to eye, dumping the contents of his fatigue backpack on the wide desk. Out rolled a can of black spray paint and a slew of photos, graphic porn images mixed with what appeared to be senior photos with the faces cut out of them.

"There's only one culprit, Mr. Figgins. It was me, sir." He admitted. "I'm the one who did it."

**O-O**

**WTF? Why won't this dude ever leave? He just pops up at the worst times, I swear. Always causing a stir, too. But don't worry. There is method to my madness, dear readers, I promise.**

**But wait, didn't I say that Larry and Eddie were gonna retaliate this chapter? Get back at Mercedes somehow? **

**I didn't lie about that. *grins evilly***

**So what do you think happened? Why Shane? How the hell did he get involved in all this? Where the hell is Sam and why is he pulling away all of a sudden? Will the locker incident force a confession from Mercedes to her concerned friends, or will she find a way to dance around it a little longer without telling them? **

**Review and tell me your thoughts! I live off them! They're my bread and butta. **


	17. Chapter 16 Anger

**Hello, All!**

**Another update for you! Thank you to all the readers that have stuck by this story and loyally reviewed with their two cents on each chapter. Your words are golden.**

**And a special thanks to my amazeballs beta, Jill, whom I've found out is practically ****_everybody's _****beta! I guess she's just that awesome! Play on, playa! Lol**

**Hope you enjoy!**

When they emerged from the closet, they stopped as one and stood shocked at the spectacle in front of them. The crowd of McKinley students had grown considerably in the short space of time, all gathered around the lewd message and picture on her locker and taking pictures. Jacob Ben Israel already had his camera crew and mike ready, fluffing his Jew fro in the reflection of the lens as he waited for his latest news victim to show up.

"Remember what we said, Mercedes. Their words can't hurt us." Kurt side whispered in her ear, gently squeezing her hand in solidarity. "You don't have to say or do anything. We're here to protect you." Santana and Tina heard his words and nodded, giving the crowd a steely no-nonsense eye as they walked forward with her.

As expected, they were bombarded with flashing cameras and the glare from the camcorder. Jacob unceremoniously shoved the mike in Mercedes's face, just as her eyes were clearing from the sudden shock of lights.

"Mercedes Jones, McKinley social outcast turned overnight diva, rumor has it that the avante garde message spray painted on your locker, using words far too explicit for this broadcast, is the result of a wayward lover scorned. Reliable sources tell me that your roaming eye has caught the attention of yet another jock, one Donovan O'Reily, and you two were seen canoodling outside in the school parking lot while your Sammy boy was less than a hundred feet away! Ain't no shame in yo' game!" he said, trying futilely to imitate her sass with a neck roll and snap of his fingers. He followed her as she continued walking with her unit. "After all, most would say third time's the charm for love. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Jones?"

"God, lay off Cretin! Can't you see she doesn't want to talk to you?" Santana growled, annoyance finally reaching its breaking point. "Leave my girl alone and go find some other reputation to ruin! She doesn't have to answer to you or anyone else in this stupid school!"

"But the people are dying to know! Ever since her fire performance a couple of weeks ago, she's been the local celebrity! We have to cover her!" Jacob counter argued in a nasally whine. "Besides, the news knows no boundaries! I am a true journalist! I'm a slave to my art! I'm-YYYEEAOWW!"

Santana twisted his ear and lifted him slightly off the ground, swinging him behind her and tossing him to the side like the garbage he was. "I said lay off and I meant it! Now crawl back into your hole in the wall and feed your young like a good little rodent," she said, gesturing to his camera crew. When they didn't move, she stepped forward with her fist, making them flinch and quickly scamper.

"Okay, some other time then," the nerd squeaked, shoving his glasses up his nose and running away with the last of his dignity.

Mercedes sighed at his geeky retreating form. "Thanks, Tana. But I don't want you to have to do that. I can fight my own battles."

"I know you can, Mercedes." She said plainly. "That doesn't mean you always have to."

"Yeah," agreed Kurt. "You always fight for us. Let us return the favor."

Mercedes nodded, too worn and grateful to argue. It did feel nice to have backup.

"Ms. Jones." All turned to Mr. Figgins voice, sudden and stern as he called her from the doorway. "A moment of your time, if you please. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

She looked to her friends, who wore the same confused expression she did. Warily, she nodded and, with a final squeeze to her friends' hands, broke away and walked to the principal's office, amidst the whispers and quiet "oohs" of the gossipy crowd. This would give them more ammunition, no doubt.

Mr. Figgins stepped back at let her inside, directing her to the chair in front of his desk. He pushed the door closed, but not before casting a disappointed eye to the spectacle on her locker. Shaking his head in shame, he clicked the lock and shut himself away from the terrible sight.

"Mr. Figgins? You wanted to talk to me?" Her confused frown deepened when Shane emerged from the corner of the room, previously hidden from her sight by the open door. "Shane? Why are you here?"

"Mr. Tinsley came to my office not too long ago with a confession." Figgins gently patted the shoulder of the sorrowful boy, pushing him forward. "One that I think you need to hear from his own mouth."

Her wide eyes darted between the two men, settling on Shane. "I do?"

"Yeah, baby," his deep voice bellowed, falling easily into the familiar endearment for his ex-girlfriend. His shoulders slumped forward. "I just wish I knew how to tell you. I don't even know where to start."

She swallowed hard, feeling the familiar swirl in the pit of her stomach that signaled danger. "No place to start but the beginning," she said with a false smile, her voice quivering.

He sighed and recounted the events from memory, speaking slowly and evenly. "It started when I went into the locker room after practice. I was getting ready to head for the showers and I heard some of the guys talking in the corner. I wasn't gonna get involved, but they were talking about you. So, naturally, my ears perked up and I listened in…."

_Earlier that day…_

"_..and then her fine ass just jumped all over him! The first time they were alone!" The crowd of guys scoffed in disbelief._

"_Larry, your ass is lyin'. She was all over that Kentucky nerd a couple weeks back," said an African American jock, drying his short curls of residual sweat and water from his brief shower. "What was his name?" He circled his mouth with his finger. "Big lipped dude."_

"_Sam Evans. He used to play last year. Cool dude," said a stocky brunette, removing his spikes and throwing them in his locker. "Besides, Shane tried for weeks to get on that ass to no avail. She's not that kind of girl."_

"_Well, you know how convincing Donnie is," said Larry's partner in crime, Eddie. "He laid down the charm and he had her panties dropping before we could even park the truck!"_

_All the guys jumped at the sudden slam of Shane's locker._

"_Oh shit! Shane! Dude, I didn't know you were still in here!" Larry exclaimed with a tad too much enthusiasm. "Hey, I'm sorry you had to find out this way, man. I mean, she was so innocent and kind when we met her! There's no way you could have known she was skank city…"_

_Shane threw the smaller boy against the locker, dragging his body up until they were eye to eye. "Say that shit again, I fucking dare you," he spat, livid. "How dare you! You don't know shit about her!"_

_Larry's smile was cocky and sure, even as he struggled in the larger boy's grasp. "But Donovan does. He knows all about her. About that birthmark on her thigh…."_

"_Anyone with eyes on her in a short skirt could see that," Shane scoffed._

"_And that mole on her ribcage, just below her chest." Larry chuckled when Shane's eyes widened. "Or that tiny little scar above her left tit that..."_

"_ENOUGH!" Shane screamed, throwing the little snake to the ground in an angry huff. He couldn't believe it. His Mercedes?_

_Larry groaned and rose from the ground, wiping a bit of spittle from his cracked lip. "The hell? Why are you getting so upset with me? It's Donovan that fucked her, not me! I'm just sharing the gospel that is her glorious body." His thin lips spread in a Cheshire grin. "Plus, you guys are over aren't you?"_

"_Shut up…"_

"_If memory serves me correctly, she dumped your ass like a hot potato as soon as the Texas Ranger waltzed his country behind back to McKinley, coming back for your girl, declaring that shit in the hallways! In your fucking face, even!"_

"_Shut the hell up, I'm warning you." Shane could feel his temple throb and the tell-tale tensing of his arms when his anger overwhelmed him._

"_What's the matter, Shane? Didn't have the balls to get it in? Sam did. Donovan obviously did. Obviously, she was never attracted to your ass," Larry teased, grinning wider. "Or maybe she just has a thing for white dick…"_

"_YOU'RE DEAD!" Shane screamed, whaling on him senselessly with his fists. Blind anger drove his punches, and his fit of anger fueled his fire, going faster and stronger with each swing. It wasn't until his boys were pulling at his shoulders and he saw the blood from Larry's broken nose dripping from his fists that he realized he'd gone too far._

"I didn't mean to hurt him like that. Sometimes, when I get that angry, I just can't control myself." Shane admitted guiltily, looking between Figgins and Mercedes. Mercedes didn't bother to meet his eyes. She was still too disgusted and stunned to look at him.

"Please continue, son." Figgins commanded in a stern voice. "She deserves to hear everything."

Shane nodded and continued. "Afterward, I just sat in the empty locker room for a bit. I didn't say anything to anyone. I just wanted to collect my thoughts for a bit, think things through. I was just so pissed that you would cheat on me twice in the same month! I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt so betrayed, like I didn't even know the girl I dated for seven months." He confessed. "All these things were running through my head when Eddie walked in. He came in apologizing for his boy, trying to set things right. If I had realized…had known…." He shook his head and met Mercedes's eyes. "Baby, I was such an idiot…"

_Shane sat on the locker bench, rubbing his knuckle in his palm as he reeled over the new information. He didn't want to believe Mercedes would do that to him. Part of him refused to believe it. Why would she? She claimed that she was in love with Sam. Why would she sleep with another guy?_

_Then again, once upon a time, she told him that she loved him too. Then she ended up cheating on him by sleeping with Sam. What was he supposed to believe anymore? How could he have been so blind? Was he so fucking stupid that he didn't realize the truth of her while they were together? Then she had the nerve to screw a guy from his team! A guy he used to chill with and consider a friend. Did they fuck then, when she would come over his house to hang and eat barbecue together? That time when he left them alone to go get drinks and snacks, did they hook up on his couch without him knowing?_

_That conniving bitch!_

"_Shane?" Eddie peeked his head in and waved a surrendering hand when he saw Shane's angry glare. "Hey man, I come in peace! Larry was an idiot to say what he said, man. It was so disrespectful and way too soon after your breakup. I'm sorry."_

_Shane studied the blonde boy a moment and, once he deemed him sincere, he gave a silent nod of assent for him to come in. Eddie smiled and sat next to him on the bench._

"_How you holdin' up, man?"_

_Shane chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. "Honestly, I don't even know bro. What do you do when the girl you thought you were in love with sleeps with two guys behind your back and shrugs you off like you were nothing?" he asked with genuine hurt in his voice._

_Eddie shrugged. "Dunno. I've never been that great in the girlfriend department. I'm more of a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. But, what I do know is that no one should ever disrespect you or your character like that. I mean, you're Shane fucking Tinsley! Star defensive player with sacks that rival any of the chump college players to date! You have a reputation to maintain and protect man, and I'm saying this as a friend, right now you're looking mighty pussy whipped and fucked up. I'm losing respect for you just looking at you!" he said, gesturing to his drooped shoulders and pathetic face._

"_What should I do, D?" Shane asked, tearing up from anger and hurt. "I feel pathetic! I feel like a little nothing shit she just tossed around! I've never hurt so much, man..."_

"_Whoa, whoa! Are those feelings, man? Tears?" Eddie scoffed, screwing up his face. "No way, Shane, you've got to man up! Take back everything she took from you. If she can't appreciate what a catch you are, then fuck her! Let those other dudes have at her, bro! You don't need a cunt like that."_

"_Watch your mouth," Shane warned sternly._

"_And you've got to stop defending her like she's still yours!" Eddie screamed, shaking his shoulders. "Shane, my man, she obviously doesn't love you or give a fuck about your feelings. Why do you care so much about hers?"_

_Shane shrugged and squinted. "I guess, part of me still loves her. Part of me can't let that go."_

"_You've got to, man." Eddie sighed. "It's the only way you're ever gonna get your balls back." After a moment of silence, Eddie snapped his fingers as if a thought suddenly occurred to him._

"_Dude, I've got the perfect idea! Remember that senior prank we did a couple weeks back? With the red spray paint and the cameras?"_

_Shane laughed slightly at the memory. "Yeah. I've never seen Figgins look so heated. I could see the steam coming out his ears."_

"_Well, I have a spare can in my bag I can spare you." Eddie pulled off the strap of his backpack from his shoulder and pulled out a can of spray paint from the large compartment of his bag. "It's some of the black we had left over from decorating Figgins's car. He still has 'dumbass' painted on his trunk." laughed the blonde._

_Shane eyed the can warily, nervously rubbing his neck. "I don't know, man. I don't think that's the answer."_

"_Hey, you asked me what to do, right?" Shane nodded. "Well, here you go! Answer in a bottle!" Eddie declared, shaking the can in his face. Shane didn't take it right away and Eddie sighed in frustration. "Okay, look, I can't force you to do anything. I'm not even telling you what to do with the spray paint. Paint pretty flowers and butterflies on her locker for all I care! Just take it off my hands, just in case inspiration strikes."_

_Shane felt weird about it, but Eddie's confident smile persuaded him. "Yeah, I guess it couldn't hurt." He shrugged, taking the can._

"_Exactly, that's what I'm saying!" Eddie replied. He crouched in front of him and reached around Shane's shoulders to give him a manly pat on the back. "Take care of you, kid. Nobody else cares about you like you can, you know?"_

"_Yeah," Shane said sadly, thinking about his overbearing father and pompous, absent mother. "I know."_

_Eddie bit his lip and nodded. "But I'm here. I'm your buddy, man. Whatever you need, alright? Say the word."_

_Shane chuckled sadly and shook the can in his hands. "I might hold you to that."_

"_Actually…" Eddie reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope, holding it between his fingers as if he was hesitant to let it go. "I wasn't gonna show you this, since you were still raw from earlier and everything, but I think you deserve to see this. I wouldn't be a good friend if I held it back."_

_Shane's face scrunched in confusion as he took the envelope from him and opened the flap, pulling out the pictures._

"_It's of them, Mercedes and Donovan, when we all went out together. She wanted some private time with him, so we waited in the truck while they went out back. I couldn't resist sneaking a peek, and when I did, well…." He pointed to the black and white photographs. "I saw that."_

_Tears came to Shane's eyes as he saw the proof staring him directly in the face. In the first photograph, they were laughing and smiling like familiar friends while she wrote something down for him. He couldn't make out what was in her hands, but he assumed it was paper. Probably to write down her number, he suspected. It's how they had crossed over from friends to dating when they first got together._

_In the second picture, Donovan was standing close behind her, peeking over her shoulder and whispering something in her ear as she laughed. The third, the final nail in the coffin of his heart, showed Donovan leaning in for the kill, pressing an eager kiss to her lips as she responded, surprised but hardly resisting._

"_Damn." Shane whispered, letting his tears drop on the startling images in his hands. If he didn't believe it before, he most certainly had no doubts now. Mercedes was a whore._

"_Sorry, bro. You had to know," said Eddie, patting his back once more as he stood and headed for the door._

"_D?" Shane called to his retreating form._

_The blonde answered without turning around. "Yeah, man?"_

"_You still good with photoshop? I've got a couple of ideas for how I can get my balls back." He crumpled the pictures angrily in his fists. "This cunt's going down."_

_Eddie smiled evilly, away from the Shane's unsuspecting view. "Sure, bro." he answered slyly. "You know I got your back."_

"We went to the computer lab, hacked into the yearbook club's files, and photoshopped them over the image. Then, I spray painted the words on your locker before class. But after I did it, I felt terrible and had to come clean. I came in shortly after and confessed to Figgins." Shane admitted with an apologetic look toward Mercedes. "I'm so sorry I did what I did, baby."

"How could you?" she said angrily, through tearful eyes. "How could you ever write something like that about me? Think that I would ever do something like that?"

"Because you did it before, Mercedes! What the hell was I supposed to think?" he said in a tempered tone, meeting her in the middle of the floor.

"You were supposed to trust me! To know that I would never sleep around!" she yelled back. "If you could think something so horrible about me, believe the word of idle teenage boys over me, then you don't know me at all!" Mercedes angrily wiped her face, clearing the hateful tears.

"Well, why did they know all that stuff about you, huh?" Shane asked her, trying desperately to vindicate himself a little. "They knew about the mole and the scar! They had pictures for Christ's sake!"

"That is none of your business," she growled, pointing sternly in his face. "You have NO idea what happened. You have no right to assume."

"There wasn't any assuming, Mercedes! It was clear in black and white!" She turned away as he drew closer. She could feel herself trembling and wrapped her arms protectively around herself in efforts to hide her fear. "If it wasn't cheating, what was it? I _need _to know, baby," he begged.

"Okay, this is getting a bit out of hand." Figgins stood between them and pushed the boy a safe distance away from Mercedes. "Ms. Jones and her interaction with those boys are none of your concern. What matters here is that you defamed her locker and caused her public embarrassment with your lewd pictures and offensive words. As principal, I will consider your punishment top priority. Report to me early tomorrow morning to receive the terms of your punishment. I need a few hours to think of a fitting penalty for such a heinous act," Figgins told him, looking him up and down and shaking his head in disappointment. "I had such high hopes for you, Mr. Tinsley. You were a good student and an outstanding athlete. But apparently, I misjudged your character as a human being."

Shane flinched at his words, but couldn't say anything. "I understand, sir. I'm sincerely sorry." He touched Mercedes shoulder. "And despite what happened out there Mercedes, you didn't deserve that, not from me or anybody. I was dead wrong for what I did and I know that now. I hope someday, when this is all behind us, you'll find it somewhere in your heart to trust me again. I know I don't deserve your friendship, but I still hope you'll be gracious enough to give it to me." He swept her hair back to kiss her cheek, but she turned her face away.

"I would never cheat twice." She whispered off to the side, not meeting his sad gaze. "I'm not like that. I was never like that! I felt terrible for what I did to you, for deceiving you like I did. But this? This was low, Shane. And the funny thing is, you don't even realize how low your blow really was."

"I'm truly sorry, baby." He whispered back sadly.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Don't I know it." She shook her head. "Sorry as ever." Mercedes walked silently to the door, opening it for him. "You can leave now. You've gotten your _pride_ back, right?" she spat. "There's nothing more to say."

Shane dug his hands in his pockets and took his walk of shame to the door, pausing at the doorframe to look at her. She graced him with her eyes, for only a moment, then looked away, too pained to say anything more. Shane nodded in understanding and left, disappearing down the hall in the silent way he'd mastered.

"Thank you, Mr. Figgins," she said glumly, and walked out the door before the empathetic apologies could pass his lips.

**O-O**

The large crowd in the hallway had dispersed and gone. In their place stood her glee friends, each holding a sudsy brush or rag and making a solid effort to scrub away the offensive words from her locker door. They heard the click of the lock behind them and turned to Mercedes, smiling kindly before resuming their efforts without word or question.

"Guys?" She watched them work, stunned at their speed and eagerness to work. Mercedes stepped closer and realized that the image was gone and most of the black paint had been scrubbed away, save for a few spaced letters. It felt like a bad dream being scrubbed away, disappearing into memory as she woke to the present. She could breathe again.

"We don't need to know," Artie said quickly, wheeling in front of her. "And you don't need to thank us or ask us why. Puck and I were passing by and saw the crowd. When we realized it was your locker and saw the message, we broke up the crowd and called an emergency glee meeting to correct the wrong."

"Yeah, it was a no brainer," added Puck, rolling his sleeves down his bulging arms and wiping his soapy hands in his jeans. "Whatever shithead wrote that obviously didn't know you like we know you. We knew it couldn't be true. And if it wasn't true, that meant it was a nasty rumor, and the glee kids know just what to do about nasty rumors." He grabbed her hand and kissed it, winking kindly at her. "You may be a lot of things mama,-talented, sexy, ass for days—but you are no skank. I've slept with enough of them to know."

Quinn playfully slapped his hand away and pushed his head back toward his duties, smiling at his antics. "Shut up, Puck! And even if you did sleep around Mercedes, no one deserves to be publicly shamed for it." She flashed her rag and made quick work of rubbing away the remaining C above her locker vent. "I mean, there's such a fucking double standard in this world about women who share their bodies and how they should be perceived. If we don't share at all, we're prudish teases. We give in, and we're sluts and whores. What about the men we sleep with? What does that make them?"

"Lucky," Finn murmured under his breath, prompting a sharp elbow in the ribs from his overall clad girlfriend.

"Exactly," Quinn nodded. "Lucky we put up with your sorry asses." Quinn smirked and quickly tossed her brush over her shoulder towards an unsuspecting Finn. He did a double take at the object hurdling toward him. He reached up quickly and fumbled with the slippery tool until it conked him in the forehead. Rachel, being the ever doting girlfriend, whipped off the kerchief tied around her pigtails and rushed to his aid, rubbing the growing red lump soothingly.

"Quinn!" she whined, side-eyeing the laughing blonde.

"What? He should've looked! Anyway…" she grabbed her soul sister's shoulders. "We're here for you, cheating, not cheating, whatever. We're the last people in the world to judge. I mean, between us we've probably all slept with each other at least once."

An emphatic "eww!" came from Rory in the corner, followed by a whispered "Awesome!" from Brittany and a mumbled, sassy "Not me! I'm no man whore!" from Kurt.

Santana walked beside Quinn and Mercedes, worrying her lip. "And about what we said earlier," she said, gesturing to Kurt. "The jokes we were making about those people…we would never say those things about you, Mercedes. Rumor or not, you're our girl. We know you don't roll that way. Those other girls—and Sasha…" She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous name for a boy. "I mean, we know they're skanks, but.."

"How do you know, 'Tana?" Mercedes asked, tilting her head as she regarded her friend. "How do we honestly know what anyone is? Hearsay? Rumors? I'm so sick of people judging everyone when they don't have any proof!" Her little outburst took the girls aback. "And even if they do, even if they think they have the answer staring them dead in the face, they don't know anything do they? Because what we see isn't always what is."

"Honey, what are you talking about? Where is this coming from?" asked a confused Quinn.

Mercedes stomped over to the locker. "This, Quinn! What used to be here! Words that aren't true! Pictures that were made on a stupid computer! Boys that trick you into corners and use you then laugh about it behind your back! Stupid gossip about things that never happened or will ever happen!"

"Boys? What boys?" Santana asked, scrunching her brow. "Sam?"

"No, Sam would never do this." Tina whispered, coming up behind Santana. "It's someone else. Something we're missing."

Tina walked up to her fuming friend, gently taking her hand. "Honey, what's this about? What boys?"

Mercedes realized her error and quickly brushed it away. "Nothing, T. I was just fuming, that's all." She said dismissively.

Tina's concerned stare never left her. "You sure? It sounded like it came from a personal place." She cupped her cheeks. "Wanna talk about it, honey? Why you're so silent all the time or why you and Sam aren't talking? What really happened with Donovan?"

"Why does everyone keep bringing him up?" Mercedes exclaimed defensively, swiping her friend's hands from her cheeks as if they burned her. "I'm fine! Sam and I are fine! I didn't cheat and what happened or didn't happen with Donovan is none of your business!" All her friends stopped and looked at her, wearing matching faces of concern. "And stop looking at me like some injured baby bird! I'm fine." She rubbed her forearms quickly, willing away her anxiety. "I'll be just fine."

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late. I just got the text to meet up and…" Sam looked up from his phone and felt the awkward tension of the room, like he'd just walked into something serious. "What's going on?"

His green eyes met the brown ones of his girlfriend, who looked to be in serious pain. When she heard his voice and saw him in front of her, she could no longer hold back her tears or her trembling anger.

"Mercede…" She stomped down the hall in the opposite direction, before he could finish. "Mercedes, wait! Baby, I can explain! I'm sorry!" He ran after her, pushing past his immobile friends as they watched him try to catch up with her.

"Okay, what was that? And why do I feel like I'm in the middle of some lifetime movie special?" Kurt asked his girls.

"Because, Kurt." Tina answered seriously. "I think we may just be in one."

**O-O**

"Mercedes." She didn't turn or answer him; she just stomped on down the hallway. "Mercy, PLEASE," Sam pleaded. "Let me explain what happened. I'm So—"

She swiveled around quickly and held up her hand. "Don't say it. Whatever you do, do not say sorry. Sorrys are for people who've done something wrong and want to work to fix it. You left without a call or text or anything. That's _not _fixing things. That's more than a sorry."

"Baby, I know that. I'm trying to explain what happened. I'm sor…" He caught himself, sighing and brushing her hair behind her ear. "I didn't mean to leave you that way. Some stuff came up, things I wasn't expecting..."

She stepped away from his touch, angry. "You think I expected this, Sam? That I anticipated this?"

Sam grew annoyed. "Mercedes, you weren't the only one affected by this…"

"Yet, I feel like I'm the only one going through it!" she yelled, letting all the stress of the day out on him. "Do you know what happened today? What I found painted on my locker? They called me a whore, Sam! A _whore!_ Donovan's cunt, open for anyone and anything to fuck over!"

"What? They wrote that?" Sam was genuinely shocked. He'd been out of school the past week and hadn't heard or seen much of anything. He'd received and ignored a few concerned texts from Mike and Joe, even a few from the girls berating him for whatever he did to Mercedes, but Artie's emergency **911-Mercedes-hallway **text frightened him out of his funk and had him rushing out the door to see her. That moment in the hallway was the first time he'd set foot in McKinley since last Friday.

"No, that's the thing! You would _think _those idiots would do something so low and stupid, but Mr. Figgins calls me in his office and tells me that Shane did the whole thing!"

"Shane?" Sam saw red. If that fucker even did so much as peek his face around the corner and he saw him, he would be dead.

"Oh, don't you dare get pissed! You have no fucking right to be mad right now!" she fumed. "You would have known if you were here, staying with me like you said you would. _I'm here for everything, Mercedes, _remember that?" she said, mocking his voice. "_I'll never let go. I'll never leave you._ What happened to all that, Sam?"

"Mercedes, I wanted to be there more than anything, you know that! You mean more to me than anything, you know that!"

"Then, where were you?" she cried, growing angrier when she felt her tears. "I needed you! I called for you! I was going through so much and you were the only person outside of family and therapy that knew about it! You were my only friend through this, Sam!"

"That was the problem, Mercedes! I was the only one!" Sam screamed. "The only one who heard you cry at night, or saw how broken you were when you fought Donovan off of you! The only one who saw you walk off in a situation that I knew was bad and still let you go anyway!"

"Do you resent me?" She said, scrunching her face in disbelief.

"No, Mercedes! _I resented_ _me!_ Can't you see that? I tried to be everything for you and I messed it up!"

"I never asked you to be everything, Sam! I just asked you to be my boyfriend and my best friend and be there for me!"

"I tried!" He yelled. "I've been trying! But it's never enough! I'm never enough!"

"What are you talking about? You were perfect!" she screamed back.

"No, Mercedes, I'm not perfect! I'm screwed up! I'm fucked up! I'm a mess and you don't even know it!" He kicked the locker and ruffled his hair in frustration, angry at the world.

She stood stunned when she saw the sizable dent in the metal door. "What are you talking about, Sam? Why won't you tell me what's going on with you? And stop walking away from me!" She pulled his shirt and turned him. "Talk to me!"

"You wanna talk, Mercedes? Okay, let's fucking talk!" He pulled her in the empty classroom and slammed the door shut. "You wanna know the secret life of Sam Evans? Want me to really fuck with the perfect image you have of me? Okay, let's start with earlier this week. When I kissed you, when I touched you like I did, I felt like shit. I felt like the scum of the earth for violating you like I did, like I was some hornball who didn't give two fucks about the fact that his girlfriend was nearly raped a couple weeks ago!"

"Sam, I told you it was okay! I gave into it, too!"

"It didn't matter what you fucking wanted, Mercedes!" he screamed. "I should have known better! I should have had better sense to tuck my shit away and respect your space! But, I followed my dick like I always do and messed it up." She bit her lip when she saw his green eyes darken and his lids grow red from tears. "And I didn't even tell you about Kentucky? Did I _mention_ Kentucky, darlin'?" He snarled sarcastically, more to himself than to her. "About the girls I fucked to try to get over you? About my little side job at Stallionz."

"Sam, I knew about that." She said quietly, never losing her angry tone.

"Oh, but my folks didn't, did you know that? Did you know I ran off without telling them what I did?" Her eyes widened at him. "Yeah! I ran off like a punk without telling them the truth. And do you know, can you _guess _when they found out?" Mercedes guessed, but before she could answer, he answered himself. "That's right, about five minutes after I got home Friday. Burt was standing at the door, trying to calm my crying mom down on the phone before I walked in. He just handed me the phone, just like that, without any warning, and when my mom realized it was me, she flipped her shit." Sam roughly rubbed his rouge cheeks, willing the anger to stay and the tear-streaked sadness to stay in the background. "She was trying to be a good mom and pack up some of my stuff to bring to me, because she figured I would stay with you for the summer, with all that's happened."

"Sam..."

"She said she knew how _loyal_ I was to you. What a good boyfriend I was.._._" He laughed in his anger. "She didn't even know I caused it."

"You didn't cause it, Sam." Mercedes told him seriously.

"And she dug through my things, putting them in a suitcase, and found my gold shorts and ID card, _Sam Evans-Exotic dancer. _Do you know how disappointed she was in me?" he asked Mercedes rhetorically. "She and Dad cried on the phone for hours, asking me why I didn't say anything and how burdened their hearts were now that they knew I had to stoop so low. I felt like garbage."

"Sam, you did what you had to do! You were being responsible?"

He laughed again. "You would think so, right? That's what I told myself, that I was being responsible. That I was doing what was best for the family. But, after a while, that argument gets old and the guilt sets in and overwhelms and false sense of _responsibility _you might have." He wiped his mouth of spittle. "And do responsible people fail out of senior year?"

"What?" answered a shocked Mercedes. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't I know?"

"Because I didn't want you to look at me like I was stupid, Mercedes! Look disappointed like you do now!"

"I've _never _thought you were stupid, Sam! I've never said anything about you or your dyslexia! In fact, I was the one that helped you through it and tutored you when you needed help!"

He clapped his hands once. "And look how I repay you. Still fail out. Still fuck up my life and have to repeat my senior year like some loser. You've always done for me, Mercedes, and yet you still call me your Prince Charming, like I'm the one that saves you. And the one time I had to prove myself, to prove I wasn't a loser," he sighed. "I show my ass for the pauper I really am. I'm no prince, Mercedes. I'm not even boyfriend material."

"Baby, I don't need you to save me! I don't need you to rescue me from anything! I can fight my own battles! I just want you to be honest with me and be there for me! This is a relationship, Sam! Fifty-fifty!"

"Yeah?" he exclaimed. "Then why do I feel like I'm not pulling my weight? Why do I feel like the deficient one?"

"Because you won't let me in enough to let me tell you you're not!" she screamed. "I want to be there for you, too, but I can't if I don't know what's going on!"

"How could I tell you, Mercedes? Everything I wanted to talk about all happened around the time of your attack! I was supposed to support you, and your _therapy, _and your _problems…_"

"How dare you! Like I forced your hand! Don't say it like you didn't want to be there, Sam! You were the one who fucking suggested it!"

"Yeah, but you were the one who wouldn't listen to me when I told you not to go out there, so I had to fix it somewhere, right?"

Silence.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, punching the wall beside him. "Shit, Mercedes. I didn't mean that."

"You think it was my fault?" she asked him in a quivering voice. "You—you _blame _me?"

"No! I never…" He tried to stop her before she opened the door, but it was too late. "Mercedes, please!" The door slammed behind her, leaving him alone in his misery and growing frustration with himself. Angry at yet another fuck up, he hastily flipped over the chairs atop the classroom desks and slammed them to the floor with a crash until all the tabletops were bare. Spent, he finally threw his back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor, letting his anger fade into anguish and fall as teardrops in his hands. Silently, he wept, angry at life and everything it dealt him.

And like a tether between two hearts, Mercedes felt the pull of his anguish as soon as the door closed and unknowingly mirrored his pose, curled her knees to her chest and weeping against her folded arms.

Suddenly, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her and pull her to their chest. The smell of lavender and chamomile told her it was Tina. She instantly hated the part of herself that slightly deflated when she realized it wasn't Sam.

"W-what ar-are you still do-ing here?" Mercedes asked her friend between sniffles.

"I waited around when the door slammed and heard everything." She kissed her forehead and rocked her smaller friend in her arms, like a mother to her child. "And you don't have to say anything. No explanations. Cry, hit me, scream, whatever, just let it out, honey."

And Mercedes did, turning her face in Tina's paint covered overalls and letting out all the anger and frustration to her heart's content.

"It's not your fault, honey." Tina whispered. And the echo of her mother's words made her wail from her belly, hard and strong until it echoed down the hallways and rung louder in her ears.

**O-O**

Mercedes was sound asleep on her couch when the doorbell rang and jolted her awake. Her parents had been home when she arrived, but she passed them and plopped on the couch as soon as she crossed the threshold, too tired to explain her tears. Tina took that task instead, kind enough to drive her home and escort her to the door in her distressed state. Mercedes could hear her soft voice whispering behind her, explaining everything to her parents and lowering even more around sensitive words so she wouldn't hear them. Still, _Sam _and _fight _could never escape her.

Since her parents were in the kitchen preparing dinner, she reluctantly got up to answer the incessant doorbell. She sighed at the sight of black and electric blue tulle and cross bone bows on blue-streaked pigtails.

"I know, I know. I'm the last person you want to see. I totally get it," Erin said hurriedly, hoping to fit her words in before Mercedes closed the door. "But, I just came by to drop off your car for you. Bee drove with me so she could drop me off after. She's right outside." Mercedes looked behind her to the silver Camry and the high French bun and white smile of her counselor. "Sam told us what happened and…"

"Ugh, the _last _thing I want to hear is THAT name," said a weary Mercedes, rubbing her disheveled curls.

"Oookay." she said, twirling her fingers in the air. "_He who shall not be named _called and told me what happened and asked me to check up on you. Then he gave me Tina's number, and I had the awkward task of introducing who I was without actually saying _who I was_. She somehow knew who I was, and then she asked me if I could pick up your car for you. Luckily, we live near each other, so we drove over to pick up…"

"You want to come in?" Mercedes asked her, cutting her off. "I really just want to sit."

"Oh, really? Sure!" Erin said brightly. Her platform boots made a clomping sound as she walked into the house. Mercedes left her to close the door and look around as she reclined on the love seat.

"Wooooww! Nice digs!" Erin complimented. "You guys must be loaded!"

"I guess." Mercedes shrugged. "My dad's a dentist and my mom's a lawyer, so we're pretty well off. Wasn't always that way though. I was old enough to remember the times when we didn't have much."

"Those memories never truly leave you." Erin said wistfully, smiling at a picture of a young, toothless version of her mentee.

"Yeah. It certainly makes you appreciate the good things when you have them."

Erin nodded and placed the picture back in its proper spot, skipping over to join her friend on the couch. She waited for Mercedes to move her feet, but she proceeded to lay down and close her eyes. Erin took the initiative and lifted her legs to free a spot on the couch.

"The hell?" The resting girl yelled.

"Relax, relax." She placed her legs over her lap. "Just making room for both of us."

Mercedes eyebrow rose in annoyance, but she closed her eyes and laid back without further argument.

"So..." Erin said, drumming her fingers against her calves. "Wanna talk about it?"

Mercedes let out an annoyed huff. "You know, not really, Erin. And to tell you the truth, I'm usually kind and patient enough to put up with your particularly annoying piece of rainbow sunshine, but right now I could care less if what I say hurts you. So, to spare your feelings, I suggest you don't ask me anymore questions, stay quiet and keep me company, or get gone." She snarled.

"Ouch! Right _in _the feelings," Erin said plainly, more taken aback than offended. "But, I understand. My whole life, people told me I could be a bit much."

"Hmphf," Mercedes huffed, pouting her lip.

After a few minutes of silence, she asked, "Mercedes?"

"Yes, Erin?" she sighed.

She took a breath to calm her usual perky voice, turning as serious as possible. "I know you don't really want to hear what I have to say right now, but as your mentor, I really feel like it might help. If I promise to be less _annoying rainbow sunshine,_" she said in air quotes. "Would you be willing to listen?"

Mercedes didn't feel much like listening, but she felt even less motivated to move and kick her out, so she relented. "Sure. Just keep it brief," she warned, knowing the goth's penchant for wordiness.

"Right, okay." Erin licked her lips and raised her blue eyes in thought, trying to think of the perfect words. "My life hasn't always been easy, not rainbow sunshine like everyone thinks. When I was three, my mom passed away, and it devastated our family."

Mercedes opened her eyes slightly and looked down at her. "Go on."

"Well, after that, it was just me, my dad, and my older brother and sister. We were grieving, but for the most part, things were pretty normal. We were pretty happy, as far as I knew." She frowned as her bright blue eyes grew dark. "Then, my big sister moved out and went off to Tennessee. Just like that. She didn't explain why or where in Tennessee she was going, she just _left. _And the weird thing was, she left in the middle of the night and made Donnie and I promise…"

"Donnie?" Mercedes shot up in the chair, full alert.

"Yeah, my brother. Anyway, my sister, Ana made us promise to never tell where she was and that someday she would come back for us. But, years passed and she never came back." Erin sighed. "Then, daddy started drinking, and that's when things got really weird. I don't really know when it happened, but something changed in his eyes that I couldn't explain. It was something dark that I'd never seen before."

Mercedes shivered at the familiar sounding name, but forced herself to listen on. Donnie was a common name, it could just be coincidence. Besides, Erin's story had piqued her interest. "What do you mean?"

"He stopped smiling, started to keep us in the house more and more. After a while, we stopped going out entirely. Then, he started punishing us for stupid little things, like leaving a dish in the sink or forgetting to dust a part of the house. We didn't have much to our name, but daddy always insisted on order. He said it separated us from the animals." She chuckled sadly at the memory, and then frowned. "But then, we would get punished for no reason. After a while, the punishments got harsher and harsher; no food for a day, a week. No water allowance. There were times where we were locked in the closet until dark hours of the night, sometimes until morning."

"That's awful," Mercedes whispered, touching her shoulder.

"That's abuse," Erin whispered back, smiling slightly at the kind gesture. Mercedes folded her legs underneath her and moved closer, reaching out to comfort her friend. "So, what happened after that?" she asked the goth.

Erin's face grew paler and graver than she had ever seen her. "Well, I guess this is where my tragic rape story comes in."

"Oh, god! Are you serious?"

"Yep." Erin nodded. "I was seven. I remember it was spring, probably around May because the calla lilies outside my window started to bloom and that was around the time my hair started to turn red under the sun. I hated my red hair, but daddy used to tell me it was my finest feature. He said I looked like my mother when it was that color." Erin shed a tear at her mother's memory. "He said it was like she left a part of her there with him."

"Oh god, Erin…"

"It only happened once, when he came home reeking of vodka and cheap perfume. I guess the women he found to sleep with didn't fulfill him." She said numbly, without any emotion. "Do you know what it's like to have your father loom over you, telling you how good it feels to be inside you? It changes your perception of things. Safe people aren't safe anymore. You can't trust anybody and the people you call family…" her blue eyes met Mercedes's chocolate brown pair. "They turn into strangers."

"How did you escape?"

"I waited until he passed out, and then I packed up all the clothes I could reach and my piggy bank and hightailed it out of that hell hole. I tried to find my brother, but I couldn't find him anywhere. I figured he wised up before me and ran off when he could." Mercedes saddened at the pain in her eyes. "He was my only friend."

"Did you ever find him? Or your sister?" Mercedes held a silent breath, waiting anxiously for her answer.

Her long black pigtails shook back and forth. "No. The house where I grew up burned down, last I heard from local papers. They say it was an accidental fire of unknown cause, but I know him. He probably set the fire and passed out before he could escape. Officials reported that they also found the body of a nine year old boy near the home, same height and build as my brother. I hoped it wasn't him, but in my heart, I knew."

"Ana?"

"M.I.A. Probably changed her name and left town. Now that I'm older, I figure that he probably hurt her, too, much longer than he'd ever hurt Donnie and me. The universe protected her when her family couldn't."

Mercedes sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes of yet another batch of fresh tears. "Erin, why are you telling me all this?"

"Oh, it has a happier ending, I promise!" Erin insisted, sporting her trademark happy grin. "So, I wandered the streets for a little while, kind of living and surviving wherever, when the police picked me up with a group of other homeless children. They verified that I had no living relatives and put me in the system as fast as they could. I spent years drifting from home to home, running away and rebelling, until I finally settled with a family that wouldn't put up with my bullshit and fought to give me a stable home, even if it's the last thing I wanted at the time. Sometimes, people like me who've had a hard life need a little tough love to recognize the real thing. They taught me to trust again."

Mercedes smiled. "That's beautiful."

"That's love." She answered back. "And it had been a while since I'd had it. I'd forgotten what it felt like. Soon, I stopped running and started letting them love me. And it was only then that I could find the space in my heart to forgive and let go of my past. That's how I found Bee and the circle. That's why I love them as much as I do, and maybe why I live as hard as I do now. I just got semi-normal." Erin laughed. "All of that was taken from me so early. I feel like I'm catching up to get it all back."

Mercedes twiddled her thumbs, thinking. "But, what happened with me was so recent. I don't think I can find it in me to forgive just yet. Everything secure in my life was just ripped away from me, like _that_." Mercedes told her with a snap of her fingers. "I'm angry and pissed at everything and everyone, sometimes for no reason at all. I just feel all over the place, uncentered, you know?" she laughed at her next thought. "I never would've believed I'd be asking you this of all people, but how do you stay so happy and how can I get some?"

Erin laughed with her, hearty and loud. "Well, you know what I've learned about happiness, bestie? It's not some magic emotion that you wake up with. It's a conscious choice. Every morning, I have to make the decision to be happy. Sure, there are days when I wake up pissed off at the world, sometimes so much that I'm blinded by my own rage and could feel it begin to consume me. But, on those days, I say to myself, "Erin?" and then I say "Hmm? Yes? You called?" She giggled. "And I say, "Erin, today you're going to be happy. Life may be amazing today or a thunderous storm cloud of emotion, but I'm gonna smile no matter what happens!" Then, I get out of bed, smile at my reflection until that contagious joy fills my heart, and walk out of that door to start my day."

Mercedes looked at this girl next to her, this young, freckled faced girl with too much makeup and little concern for tact, and stared at her with nothing but admiration. "When did you suddenly get amazing?" she teased with a smile.

"Well, I've been _trying _to _tell you!" _Erin laughed, reaching out to hug her friend. "Oh, you're gonna be just fine, girl! Don't worry. Everything you've lost is gonna come back to you tenfold, I just know it is."

Mercedes nodded and accepted her embrace, hoping with all her heart that Erin was right.

**O-O**

**Review and tell me what you think! Hoped you liked the somewhat lighter ending**


	18. Chapter 17 Fear

**Okay, I am way too excited. I love this chapter with a fiery, burning passion. I loved writing it, reading it over, imagining it….everything! So much that I'm scared to post it because I'd hate to hear that it's less awesome than I imagine it is. Lol**

**Hope you enjoy! **

**O-O**

Sam laid himself out in his little corner of the Hummel-Hudson residence, staring at a picture on his wall and mulling over the week's turn of events. It was a caricature of him and Mercedes that he had purchased from the carnival they went to last summer. The artist captured the spirit of the moment perfectly in the drawing; her bubbly and happy as she planted yet another kiss to his lips, and he, blushing like mad at the fire her affection ignited in his body, while tiny smiling cartoon hearts floated between and around them to indicate their budding love. They were so perfect then, content in each other's arms and eager to soak up every minute detail about each other.

Then, Kentucky happened, and their short time together drifted away with the summer winds. He'd spent every waking hour figuring out how to see her again. He'd work extra overnight hours to scrape up some extra cash. He even took up odd jobs over his free weekends with plans to buy a car and visit her. But when his dad told him he'd had yet another temporary position taken away from him and couldn't afford to pay the month's rent, Sam brokenheartedly dipped into his private funds and helped out. July had been a huge setback.

August proved worse. Both his parents were jobless, his siblings were growing like weeds and needed new clothes. To make matters worse, they received yet another eviction threat from their landlord if their rent wasn't paid by the fifteenth. It was August twelfth and the money still hadn't come in. His family only had five hundred dollars to their name, their car's transmission was shot. Then, his sister came crying to him about a gash she'd gotten climbing trees that looked quite swollen and dangerously close to infection. To add insult to injury, his bro Mike had called him that week and broke the news that Mercedes had found another boyfriend. She'd grown lonely and tired of waiting.

Stallionz seemed to be the perfect solution to all his problems, financial and emotional.

The steady abundance of money was satisfying, not to mention the extra tens and twenties he'd gotten for lap dances from lonely cougars and bachelorettes. Those tips paid for his sister's medical exam, her stitches, and a dose of antibiotics. Plus, as loathe as he was to admit it now, the admiration from his female audience stroked his ego and fed the emotional void left by Mercedes and her decision to move on. What kind of name was _Shane,_ anyway? Only two dangerous letters away from _Snake._

And that seductive serpent stole his girl right from under his nose, even though he and the whole school knew that they were never truly over. He enticed her with sweet words and promises of grandeur Sam could never give her, and she, being emotionally vulnerabe, fell for it and took a bite of the sweetness he'd offered and Sam lost her.

He vowed that week to get her back at all costs, even if he had to fight to the death for her. The trick was to keep his job a secret from everyone, especially his parents, until he could figure out how to save up enough to go back to her.

After his decision, God decided to open the heavens and bestow blessing upon blessing to him and his family, more than He ever had in the past. Both his parents found work: permanent and well-paying with benefits, and as a reward for his dutiful efforts to support the family, they rewarded Sam with a new car. Well, new by fresh income standards. It was used, but running and fully functional, and Sam had nothing but words of gratitude and thanks for the answered prayer. Mercedes called him the same day, saying she was thinking about him and wanted to make sure he and his family were well. And though her words were as neutral as possible, her concern and the sad lilt he heard in her voice gave him hope and pushed his efforts that much more. Everything he'd wanted was suddenly in reach and he planned on taking full advantage.

Yet somehow, some fucking how he'd still managed to mess up everything. If he could only burn those damn gold shorts now…..

"Sam!" He shot up in his bed at the sound of Burt's voice. "Can you come downstairs for a sec, bud? There are some visitors for you!"

_Visitors? _Sam didn't give the question time to mull around in his head and consider the possible candidates. Instead, he slipped on his red and white striped hoodie over his captain America tee and Levi's and ran down the stairs.

"Mr. Hummel, I wasn't expecting any vis—"

"Hello, Samuel." Sam closed his eyes and sighed, mentally kicking himself for not figuring it out sooner. His mother and father were standing at the door, arms crossed and wearing matching looks of disappointment.

"Hi, Mom. Dad." He politely greeted his parents. "Something tells me you didn't just come for a friendly visit."

"You're damn right, young man; we didn't come for a friendly visit," his father said, with a sneer on his face. "We need to talk. _Right now."_

"Look, I know you're angry that I didn't tell you—"

"Oh, angry is not even the _wooord_, Samuel Lucas Evans." His mom said, dragging her words in her anger. "Try _livid, disappointed, hurt, stupefied!"_

"Okay, mom! I get it!" Sam said, raising his voice.

"Don't you dare use that tone with your mother, young man. We've taught you far better than that." His dad growled. "But obviously, some life lessons, like truth and honesty, seemed to escape you. So, we're here to sit down and give you a little friendly reminder."

Sam winced. The way his dad said friendly reminder didn't sound very friendly at all. It sounded like a downright threat. "Dad, I was gonna tell you guys about Stallionz-"

"Do you think we traveled all the way down here because we found out about the _secret job,_ you've been hiding?" Mrs. Evans scoffed; using air quotes like it wasn't secret at all. "We already chewed you out about that over the phone."

Sam's brow scrunched in genuine confusion. "So, why did you guys come?"

"When were you gonna tell us you were failing in school?" his mother questioned, her tone more pained than angry. "Or that you were suspended for a week for _fighting_ in school?"

_Oh, shit. Forgot about all that. _"Mom, it's not how it sounds. I can explain all that."

"Oh, I sure hope you can, young man." His dad interjected. "And we'll be here all weekend, waiting with bated breath for your explanation." Mr. Evans turned to their host, who'd been waiting around witnessing the spectacle. "Burt, please forgive our blunt entry. We're so grateful for all you've done for our son and for welcoming us into your home while we sort this entire mess out," he told him, remembering his southern manners and reflecting some semblance of calm. "Thank you for calling us and telling us what's going on with our boy."

Burt stood idly at the side, awkwardly shuffling back and forth on his feet. He suddenly felt oddly out of place in his own doorway. "No problem. One parent to another, I know how important it is to be in the know." He turned to an angry Sam, hoping to answer his silent questions. "And Sam, before you get upset with me for interfering, I need you to know that I did it only out of love and concern. You've been moody and sulking these past couple of weeks, and when the principal called and told me you were failing and about the fight, I knew you needed more than your friends' father to help you," he explained, patting his chest. "This isn't some attack or mutiny against you, son. We're all just really concerned about your well-being."

Sam had a few choice words buzzing around in his head, but chose to say nothing. The part of his brain that was still functioning rationally could understand Burt's point. But it still hurt nonetheless to have everyone discussing you behind your back. His parents' arrival still somehow felt like a betrayal.

"I understand, Mr. Hummel," he replied, lowly and restrained. "Mom, Dad. I'm going to go brush my teeth and freshen up a bit. I'll be down in ten so we can discuss this."

"Don't dally, son," his dad warned, placing a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder when she finally broke and cried silently in her hands.

Sam nodded and ran up the stairs quickly, closing the door and locking it behind him. Fitful, he stormed into the bathroom and jerked the knobs of his sink faucet and blasted the cold water, taking handful after handful and splashing it all over his face and neck. When that wasn't enough, he whipped his towel off the rack and angrily scrubbed at his face, rubbing until his skin peeled and turned red from the efforts. He walked into his bedroom and turned on the air conditioner, blasting the cool air on the coldest setting in his room and throwing the towel angrily amidst his pile of laundry. He threw himself on the bed and took a moment to let the frigid air wash over him, hoping the shock of cold would wake him from this nightmare of a life.

When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was their picture on the wall. Everything came flooding in, all the anger, the sadness, the pain, until he stomped his feet against the mattress in frustration and finally broke himself, curling into a fetal ball on his side and crying into his superman sheets.

**O-O**

Checking her phone had become a new nervous habit of hers. Mercedes often caught herself checking the clock on her screen over a dozen times before the minute had time to change. Now she was stuck on 11:59 am, fidgeting anxiously in her seat until the time relented and turned to twelve noon.

Today was the day she'd decided to tell her friends, in the safe venue and time of her choosing. She'd had a moment to think about what she'd wanted to say and how. Once she'd gotten the verbiage down, all that was left to decide was the place and the time. The time decision had been an easy one. Lunch hour was ideal; near a crowd big enough to dissuade from getting emotional, but not too bit to infringe on their privacy. The harder decision was the _where._

At school? Certainly not. It held too many negative memories of her attack. Talking about it while she was there would only guarantee she'd be a blubbering mess by the end of their get together. Her home was definitely out because if things went south, she'd have nowhere safe to escape to. The last thing she needed was to create new negative memories in her one safe haven. Breadstix? She scoffed mentally at her own stupid suggestion. On a Saturday like today, the place would be packed. Besides, all of McKinley went there on a regular basis to eat and chat. Nosey ears and murmuring mouths would be everywhere. The last thing she wanted was to be the perpetrator of her own gossip.

Mercedes settled instead for a vintage ice cream parlor and burger joint down the road. The little mock '40s diner was quaint, served delicious homemade confections, and generated a sizable group of customers without being crowded. Plus, each sitting area had a private booth tucked away in some corner of the eatery that was large enough to house the six of them, and away from prying eyes. It was ideal and exactly what she needed.

The tiny silver bell rung above the entrance door, signaling a customer, and Mercedes smiled in relief when she saw the familiar neon blue streaked pigtails and combat boots come into view.

"Erin!" Mercedes yelled from their booth near the window, waving to catch her attention. The Goth's head swiveled quickly to the sound, and she waved back beaming, as if she hadn't just seen her yesterday.

"Cedesmeister!" Erin sang, throwing two rock and roll fists in the air before pointing her way. "What's the dilly-yo, mama? Ready to shake those demons loose?" She swayed her hips from side to side, bumping away the imaginary hellish creatures with each swish of her tulle skirt.

"If by _shake demons loose,_ you mean tell my friends? Then no, not in the slightest," confessed Mercedes. "Is anyone ever ready for this sort of thing?"

Erin grew serious and sat in front of her with thoughtful, folded hands. "No, honey. You sort of have to psych yourself into it. Remember that you're sharing this personal event with people that are safe and that care about you." Seeing Mercedes was unconvinced, Erin thought and thought until she snapped her fingers with an idea.

"Hey, you're a performer, right?"

"Yes, I am," Mercedes replied confidently, "But I'm not nervous like this on stage. It's my element. And as crazy as it sounds, I'd rather perform in front of a stadium full of strangers than talk about this right now with my friends."

"What about when you're doing a song that's vocally challenging?" Erin asked, leaning forward. "Maybe the notes are a bit high or the arrangement is less than stellar. What do you do, then?"

"I manage," Mercedes said humbly, shrugging and twirling a curly lock of her hair.

Erin flashed a knowing smile. "I'll bet you do." She'd gotten a chance to hear a sample of Mercedes's singing chops. The better question would be if there's a song that she _couldn't_ sing. "Humor me a little. What if? How would you handle it?"

"Well…" Mercedes tapped her chin in thought. "I'd probably visualize the crowd and the stage, imagining my performance. I'd see myself owning the stage and killing the difficult notes." Mercedes suddenly turned bashful. "There is this one thing I do. It's kind of silly, though."

"What? What is it?" Erin asked excitedly, feeling on the cusp of a breakthrough. "Please don't tell me it's something lame like monkeys in the audience or people in their underwear." Her brow raised in intrigue. "Now, monkeys in their underwear on the other hand…that might work."

Mercedes laughed. "No! I say a mantra!" "I stand in the back of the stage and think encouraging things to give myself confidence."

"Like what?" Mercedes looked off to the storefront window beside her, blushing. "C'mon! I swear I won't laugh! Scout's honor!"

"Like '_you can do it, girl. Don't give up' or 'those other bitches have nothing on you. You're one of a kind'. _Stuff like that."

"Those are just like the positive affirmations Bee was talking about! You can do the same thing here!" She told her, closing her eyes and calming her voice to a tranquil hum. "Visualize the conversation going well, approach it with the same confidence, and reassure yourself that you're able to overcome the fear. It's just your friends, people that love you and supported you even when they didn't know what was going on. They never pressured you or manipulated you to say anything."

"That is true…" reasoned Mercedes.

"Plus, you've already told Tina, one of your closest besties," Erin added, pulling from the lineup of friends Mercedes had told her about. "So, you'll have at least one friend close by supporting you."

"True, too." She nibbled her lip. "And you're here and you know, so that makes two friends..."

"Exactly! That makes…" Erin's eyes popped open. "What?"

Mercedes looked over at her confused pal. "I said you're here and you're my friend." She blinked. "Right?"

Erin's eyes registered shock for a few more seconds as she absorbed her words, and then softened affectionately. "Yeah, I'm here, too." She replied, taking her hand. It was the first time she'd ever been included in anyone's circle of friends. The feeling of acceptance was warm and strange, but Erin knew it was one she could quickly get used to.

"Good." Mercedes smiled, gently squeezing her fingers. "You know, I never told you, but I'm especially glad you're here, Erin. I can't imagine doing this without you."

"Oh, whatevs," she scoffed, wrinkling her freckled nose. "A confident diva like you? You could've done this without any help at all."

"But, I wasn't confident," Mercedes confessed. "Not with something so personal. Your story inspired me to be honest and brave, and to share my experience instead of being ashamed of it. And even though I didn't understand it before, Bee pairing us up is starting to make more and more sense now."

Erin stared wide eyed for the second time. "It does?"

"Yes. You have exactly what I've lost. You embody the very thing I wanted but struggled to find within myself."

"What's that?" Erin asked quietly, suddenly intrigued.

"Freedom." She answered. "Freedom to express, to say what's on my mind. Freedom to love and be loved again. Freedom to _be_, Erin. I lost that in all of this. You were the inspiration I needed to fight to get it back. Thank you."

Erin plopped back in her seat and stilled. For a moment, only a moment, the childlike glint in her sapphire eyes dulled and glazed over with a sobering consciousness that one could only define as maturity. In a brief instant, Erin felt part of her old self shed and fall away, making way for some young, green sapling part of her to grow and flourish. Taken aback by the feeling, she used her sleeve to rub her eyes before the tears could come, still unfamiliar with the notion that tears could actually be _happy_.

"Well, I don't know about you, but all this emotion talk is making me crave something sweet and fattening," she joked, deflecting attention as she sniffled a bit. "Ice cream for the brave lady and her oh _so_ inspirational companion, perhaps?

"I was going to wait for everyone, but I guess we could always join them with the second scoop." Mercedes smiled, sliding out of the booth with her and walking to the counter.

"Pick anything you want on the whole menu," Erin instructed, sweeping her arms across the massive menu selection above them. "My treat."

"Really, Erin? You sure? I might take advantage and pick something really, really expensive." Mercedes joked.

"Why sure! I don't mind!" Erin exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the shorter girl's shoulders. "We're friends, aren't we?"

**O-O**

"Okay, son. Tell us what happened."

The Evans family sat around the dining table, arms folded and facing each other. They were all much calmer now, and aside from Sam's puffy red eyes and Mr. Evans' stern look, appeared far less emotional.

"Honestly Dad, I don't even know where to start."

"Nowhere like the beginning." Mrs. Evans encouraged, reaching out to touch her son's hand.

Sam gave a small half smile at his mother's loving gesture, eyeing both his parents. With a sigh, he started. "Well, it all started when we moved to Kentucky. I know I sounded excited about the move and Dad's new job, but inside it killed me. I was leaving everything behind, my friends, my school, and my girlfriend." He swallowed hard at the vague mention of Mercedes. "Everything I loved was in Ohio."

"We knew that, son. We weren't thrilled about the move, either. Stacie and Stevie were getting settled, we had a house…"

"And we had friends here, too" Mrs. Evans added. "We love the Jones's just as much as you do."

"I know." Sam answered, anxiously twiddling his thumbs. "But somehow, I still felt alone in all of it. I didn't want to tell you because you guys already had so much on your plate. It didn't seem fair to dump all of my problems on you."

"How did you know we couldn't handle it?" Mrs. Evans questioned. "Sam, we're your parents. Everything that affects you affects us, too. Even when you didn't say anything, I felt it." She pressed her hand over her heart. "Right _here._"

Sam's face fell, truly apologetic. "I didn't mean to hurt you, mom. I swear I didn't. I guess I just had trouble finding the words." He looked off to the side, murmuring, "I've been having lots of communication issues lately."

"But Son, we've always been open and available to you whenever you needed to talk." Mr. Evan said, still confused. "Why didn't you at least try to tell us? You've never hidden things before."

Sam paused for a moment and shrugged, still trying to figure out the answer himself. "I guess I just didn't' want you to be disappointed in me. You trusted me to be a man about all this and handle responsibility. I felt like when I failed…." He trailed off, ending his thought with silence.

"Son, failure doesn't make you less of a man. If anything, it proves the man you are." Mr. Evans reached over and placed a fatherly hand on his boy's shoulder. "Sam, I couldn't be more proud of you and what you've sacrificed for this family. You've gone above and beyond what we've asked of you…even if your decisions have been a bit ill advised," he admonished, giving him a stern look for the exotic dancing they'd yet to talk about. "You've done well and made me proud. You know how you can make me prouder?"

Sam's green eyes looked up hopefully to his father. "Dad?"

"Be honest. Tell me, tell _us," _he hugged his wife close, "what's going on, even if you don't think we'd want to hear it."

"_Especially _when you don't think we'd want to hear it." His mom emphasized, challenging him with a stern raise of her brow. "We love you, Samuel. Mistakes won't change that."

"I know." Sam answered quietly, looking down at the table. It still felt nice to hear his parents reassure him, though.

"And Samuel," his mother cupped her soft hand under his chin, tilting his face until they were eye to eye. "We aren't the only ones who feel that way."

Sam's eyes widened. "How did you—?"

"A mother knows these things, Sam." She answered, smiling knowingly before adding, "Plus, Patrice tells me everything and told me that her daughter had suddenly become as silent and moody as my son and I put two and two together."

"It doesn't matter, anyway," he sulked. "She won't even look at me after what I said."

"Well, why don't you tell us what happened? We may be a couple of old fogies, but we still know a thing or two about being in love." His dad smiled and kissed his wife's temple.

Sam smiled at his parents' display of affection. After all these years, they were still blissfully in love. "How do you guys stay in love? How do you prevent life from getting in the way?"

Mr. Evans looked away from his wife and scrunched his brow at his son's question. "Simple answer, son?" Sam nodded. "You don't prevent life from getting in the way. Life still happens. You just make sure your love is always stronger than anything it throws your way."

He smiled when his little boy copied his thoughtful expression and couldn't resist the urge to ruffle his hair. "Ah, my boy," he sighed. "You still have so much living to do, so much growing. Just know, from the _expert in love_." He grinned when Sam rolled his eyes. "Mercedes is the one thing you've gotten absolutely right. Just trust it, son. Don't let your fears and doubts tell you otherwise."

Sam patted the hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dad."

"Now," Mr. Evans leaned back in his chair, turning all business. "Don't think I've forgotten, young man. There's still the matter of your missed classes and the fighting to discuss. And, exactly what _did _you do at Stallionz?" He held up a hand to halt Sam before he could answer. "Before you answer that, was any of it illegal or unbearably shocking to my fragile, Catholic heart?"

Sam laughed, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Well, you said you wanted honesty…"

Mr. Evans groaned in pain, mock pouting. "Okay, come on. Give it to us." He beckoned the news with his hands. And Sam leaned in and told them everything, every last fact in grave detail, happy he'd finally found the courage and the words.

**O-O**

"Hmm…..let's see…" Erin surveyed the array of frozen treats on display beneath the glass case, considering her options. Mercedes was already nursing her double scoop, licking the drippings of Rocky road and White fudge—Sam's personal favorite, but not that it mattered-off the side of her cone as she waited patiently beside her.

"Well, _I'm a slave for rouge_ sounds positively oppressive," she said aloud, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the ill named red velvet ice cream. "And I couldn't eat _Rabbit Roadkill _in good conscience, knowing the dangers harmless bunnies face crossing the freeway every day," she pointed out the banana and walnut confection, littered with chocolate bunny shaped heads. "So, I guess….vanilla?"

The teenaged server behind the counter popped and snapped her bubble gum, visibly tired and annoyed. "Are you sure? This is like, the _tenth _time you've changed your mind. I've got other customers waiting behind you."

Mercedes chuckled at the line of customers behind the indecisive Goth, who looked just as tired and annoyed, and shook her head.

"Yes, this is the last time, I promise." Erin said with an amiable grin. But just before the server could scoop, she leaned in with a skeptic eye and added, "This is a _soy-based _ vanilla, is it not?"

The pinstriped laden girl scrunched her forehead. "No? All of our selections are cow milk based."

"Oh, I see." Erin tutted. "That just won't do at all."

The whole crowd groaned, with few muttering choice expletives of impatience. When she overheard one death threat, Mercedes kindly intervened.

"Erin, can I make a suggestion?"

Erin regarded her friend and grinned. "Sure, bestie! You know this place better than I do!"

"How about a snow cone? It's dairy-free, cruelty-free, non-oppressive, and it comes in blue raspberry! Your favorite!" She smiled and nodded, hoping to sell it. Erin paused and considered, and Mercedes smile widened in satisfaction when she agreed.

"That sounds perfect! One blue raspberry snow cone, please!" The server hurried to scoop the ice and drizzle the sweet syrup atop the treat, shoving it in her hands. When Erin finally paid and left the counter, the entire line of customers erupted in cheers and applause.

"Wow, I didn't know so many people were so environmentally conscious!" Erin noted, blissfully unaware as she feasted on her treat.

"Yeah, Erin. That's exactly it." Mercedes said behind her, rolling her eyes good naturedly at her naiveté. "The crew should be arriving any moment."

As if they heard her, Quinn, Santana, Tina, and Kurt came through the door as soon as Mercedes and Erin found their seats, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

"Diva!" Kurt exclaimed, waving as soon as he spotted Mercedes and her telling leopard fedora.

"Hey!" Mercedes smiled back, calling to them. "We've already ordered! Go get yours and come over!"

They all nodded and joined the line. The crew came back with their cones quicker than they did and joined them, sliding in to the booth. Kurt, Quinn, and Santana sat on one side, while Tina squeezed in the empty end seat beside Mercedes, joining her and Erin.

"Guys, I'd like you to meet Erin. She's a friend I met outside of school." Mercedes introduced to her friends. She purposefully skipped over the "Therapy" part of their meeting. They'd tackle all of that later. "Erin, these are the fabulous people I told you about…."

"Oh, wait! Don't tell me! Let me guess, okay?" Mercedes nodded with an amused curious grin and gave her the floor. "Okay, I totally got this." Her blue eyes scanned the new faces, choosing to point out the familiar blonde in the middle. "You must be Quinn, because you have kind eyes, flawless skin, and welcoming smile."

Quinn beamed at the compliment, glancing over at Mercedes. "Glad to know I have such a positive following! Lovely to meet you."

"And, you're Kurt, naturally."

"Naturally." Kurt echoed, batting his eyelashes.

"And I could tell because of your flawless sense of style, charming profile, and tasteful use of sequins."

"If I stop shining, I'm dead. That's my motto." Kurt joked. "And you have a fabulous eye! A pleasure."

Erin eyed the dark haired Asian girl on Mercedes' left. "And, I _know _you're Tina."

"Why, because I'm Asian?" she snorted, poking fun.

"Well yes, _annnd_ because you smell of lavender and have a warm presence. And you glow when you speak, like the sun shines through your skin."

"Aww, really?" Tina cupped her blushing cheeks, nudging her friend. "You said that? I do kind of glow, don't I?"

"You totally do." Erin said proudly. "And, I love your rocking blue nail polish by the way."

If possible, Tina's smile grew tenfold. "And I love your style! I totally rocked purple streaked pigtails back in the day, but your color is flawless," she complimented back.

Erin tugged her pinned up locks, pleased at the kind words. "You think so?"

A snort from the corner of the booth silenced her. "Flawlessly _dreadful_, at best." Santana sassed.

Erin leaned against her hand, staring the Latina down. "And that leaves _Santana…" _

"If you're gonna try and win me over with pretty words and half-assed compliments, save your breath. I already know I'm awesome and don't need your approval."

"San, come on." Mercedes pleaded. "She's trying to be nice."

"No, it's okay, Mercedes. I think I've got this." Erin's face grew cold as she leaned across the table and met her in the middle, only ketchup and salt shakers between them. "I was going to say that I knew you were Santana because of your dreadful sneer and murderous glare, though that would be too kind of a compliment."

"Erin!"

"Bitch, I've seen turds more attractive than you. What, the Osbournes' had a yard sale and you shopped from their discount section?"

Mercedes moved to interject, but Erin stopped her, maintaining her gaze. "Yep, right next to the Girl Scout arts and crafts section that made that jacket. Just to let you know, those are made for _charity_. You're not actually supposed to wear it out in public."

Mercedes whispered nervously to Tina as they argued. "I don't think this is going well."

"No, I actually think it's going well. She hasn't reached over and choked her senseless, so that has to be progress, right?" she whispered back. "Besides, I've heard Santana come with harsher insults. And Erin seems to be holding her own."

"This is a Versace, Wednesday Adams, not some department store cheap labor knock-off you find at the swap meet. But I'm not surprised that you don't recognize designer. They don't make clothing for the athletic, masculine build."

"No, of course not," Erin said simply, buffing her nails against her black and silver crop top. "Just for those who throw up their meals."

"You callin' me skinny, Tim Burton?" she asked threateningly, with a cold glare.

"As a starving Guatemalan child," she replied, shooting a threatening glare of her own.

They stared each other down for a moment before Santana leaned back and spoke. "That was both racially and economically insensitive," she said matter of factly, nodding in approval. "Not bad." She smiled and reached her hand over. "You just might be able to hang."

Erin took the friendly hand, shaking it. "I can hold my own." she replied.

The table looked back and forth between them, looking shocked, confused, and somewhat displeased by the odd introduction.

"Okay, what the hell just happened?" demanded Mercedes, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"I told you, I could handle it," replied Erin, returning to her naturally cheery self. "I speak fluent bitch. And Vulcan. Vulcan is a close second." She smiled sweetly and dipped her spoon in Santana's cup, tasting her Cherry Garcia without protest from the Latina. In fact, Santana pushed her cup to the middle and encouraged the sharing.

"Riiiight."Kurt nodded slowly, accepting it without further question. "So, Mercedes! You brought us here, bought us ice cream, wanting to chat." He singsonged, smile fading to a frown. "What's wrong and how serious is it?"

"Major serious, Kurt," she said gravely. "Like Titanic sinking ship serious."

Kurt gasped in horror. "Oh, honey! Did someone die? Is someone hurt? What happened?

Mercedes felt her stomach sickeningly turn and almost went with her urge to run out of there. That is, until she remembered that she was sandwiched in the middle of her friends. Like they sensed it, Tina and Erin's hands found her own and gripped her tightly, squeezing to give her courage.

"We're right here," Tina told her quietly. "And we won't judge you. We love you, honey."

"Okay, now I'm really freaked out. What happened, Mercedes?" Quinn anxiously asked, her eyes becoming wider. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"Quinn, not every horrific teenage problem is pregnancy. Stop over-generalizing." Santana snapped with a roll of her eyes. Her eyes suddenly widened as well. "She is over-generalizing, right?" Mercedes looked down. "Mercedes?"

"I'm not pregnant, Tana. Calm down." She breathed out slowly and steeled herself for the confession. "But, something did happen. I just don't know how to tell you."

"You can tell us anything, Mercedes," Santana said gently, sweeter than she'd ever spoken. "I may bitch and moan from time to time, but I don't mean half the things I say from time to time. I trust you guys with my life and I hope you'd feel the same with me."

"I'd tell you guys anything," Tina nodded, following Santana. "Especially you, Mercedes."

"Definitely."

"Especially you, my love."

"No question."

The entire table voiced their trust in her, one after the other. "And we'd take anything you say to the grave with us if that is what you wanted." Kurt assured. "Just tell us what's going on. We'll listen."

Just like she feared, Mercedes felt the tears come. "God, I hoped I wouldn't cry. Just this once," she whispered, laughing at herself as she dabbed the corners of her eyes with a napkin. She decided to take a leap of faith. _Just tell them, _urged her inner voice, _don't be afraid._

"The day of the big performance, I met up with Sam afterwards."

"We know, we saw." Quinn smiled. "You guys were happier than ever."

"I know." Mercedes chuckled through her tears, voice breaking. "We were happy, weren't we?"

"Merc, what's going on? You're scaring me!" Santana insisted, her chin quivering alongside her friend's. The whole table could sense the major shift in mood and were all on edge, anxiously waiting for her words.

"We walked to my car after and he was going to take me home. But then, we had that stupid argument over nothing…" Tina grabbed more tissue, trying and failing to dry her face before the tears could stain her cheeks as she spoke.

"Is this about Sam?" Kurt asked quietly. "Did he do something?"

"No Kurt, it's what _I _did," she said passionately, patting the blaming hand on her chest. "These jocks came asking for my autograph, and _stupidly _I believed them! Like they'd ever want an autograph from me," she sniffled, shaking her head. "And I knew, you know? I could feel it in my gut. Sam even told me not to go, but I just…." She trailed off; lifting the arm joined with Tina's to wipe her face on her hand. "Next thing I know, we were in the back of his truck and….I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear! He trapped me and I couldn't _do anything!" _Mercedes insisted, lacing her broken thoughts with short heaves of breath.

"Oh, God." Quinn's look of horror told Mercedes that she finally understood. And through some telepathic connection between friends, Kurt and Santana looked to her and suddenly realized it, too.

"No, honey. Not you," Santana insisted, red faced and whimpering. "Please, say they didn't. _I'm begging you._" She held her chest, clutching the space above her heart as if holding its fractured pieces together. "Say anything else, anything. I'm begging."

"I said no, Tana! I swear I did. But, he cornered me and I couldn't get out! I fought him as much as I could, but he still trapped me! And his friends were in the truck, just watching the whole thing," she said sullenly.

Kurt blanched white as a sheet, still too frightened to speak. Quinn bowed and shook her head, muttering something over and over to herself.

"We were right there. We were just with you, in school, not two feet away. How could we miss it? We were right there…." Mercedes heard Quinn murmur. She kept saying it over and over, just shaking and tearing and going over detail after detail in her head.

"You were already gone, Quinn. There was no way you could have known." Tina leaned over her shoulder and hugged her close, rocking her back and forth. "He didn't get the chance to do what he wanted, but it really shook me, guys," she admitted, leaning her temple wearily against the press of her friend's forehead and finding a calm in her gentle movements. Erin picked up her other hand and kissed her knuckle, nodding her approval.

Kurt swallowed and finally spoke, once some blood returned to his face. "So, he didn't get to—"

"No," Mercedes answered, clearing her throat of its emotional rasp. "But he came so close, Kurt. Close enough to nearly break me."

"So that was why we saw the message on your locker…." Mercedes could see the connections forming in Santana's eyes and grew fearful when the fire ignited in them. "He's dead. Name him, Mercedes, and he's dead, I swear on all that is good and holy."

"Santana—"

"NAME HIM, DAMNIT!" she screamed. The booths around them quieted and turned, watching them curiously. Luckily, most of the view of them was blocked off by the privacy dividers and their position in the corner of the restaurant.

"Name him, Mercedes," Santana growled, quieter. "Or I'll find him myself."

"That won't do anything but make it worse, Santana," Tina said calmly, reaching for her hand before Santana pulled it violently from her grasp.

"And what about you, huh? You knew about this and didn't tell us?" Santana looked at her like she'd betrayed them all.

"Mercedes wanted to tell you guys on her own time! It was not my place to tell," she replied calmly.

"I wish you didn't tell me, then," Santana bounced anxiously in her chair, biting her lip and shifting her gaze to anywhere but the table. "You shouldn't have told me something like this and then I can't do anything about it."

"Santana," Tina caught her attention. Her anger broke as soon as their eyes met, and Santana finally gave into the powerful well of emotion fighting to rise to the surface.

"Damnit!" She slammed a fist against the table, dipped her chin, and sobbed into her hands "It's not fair…"

Quinn pulled her close, hugging her shaking shoulders. "I know, love." She kissed her forehead, just as she across the table to cover Tina and Mercedes' joined hands with her own. "It's not fair. But, we're here and it happened. And, we'll get through it." She looked pointedly at Mercedes, nodding. "Together, okay?"

"Okay." Mercedes nodded back, giving a sad smile. Erin pushed their joined hands next to the other, and added her free hand atop both of them.

Kurt reached over, cupping her face. "We're not gonna leave you alone in this. Not this time," he told her tearfully, meaning it with his whole heart. "We've got you, babe. We're gonna fight this together." And he put both hands in, to prove he meant his word.

Santana was still too broken to speak or even look at her, but managed to throw her hand in and join in solidarity. It was hard, but eventually her eyes cleared, and Santana could meet Mercedes stare and even manage an encouraging smile and nod, however fleeting it was.

And for the first time in a long time, Mercedes wasn't afraid.

**O-O**

After a much needed hugging session and several promises to conference call later that night, Mercedes left her friends and came home, a bit tired but lighter than ever. She could smell dinner wafting from the kitchen and hear her mother's soft hums as she cooked. It had been an emotionally taxing day and the sounds and smells brought a serene sense of familiarity that nearly lulled her to sleep when she plopped tiredly on the living room couch.

That is, _Almost._ Until the ring of the doorbell jolted her awake.

Mercedes groaned and sat up. "Don't get up, baby. I got it." Her mother wiped her hands on her floral waist apron and gestured for her to lie back down, smiling and unusually excited to greet whoever was at the door. Usually, she'd moan and complain of visitors at this hour.

She could hear when the door opened, and Mercedes figured she'd join her mother in greeting the visitor since she was already awake and feeling more herself today.

To say the sight of the Evans' family at the door surprised her would be a huge understatement.

"DIVA!" Mrs. Evans exclaimed, bursting through the door and running into her mother's embrace. She squeezed the shorter woman tightly and spun her once around, dropping her to her feet and rocking their embrace excitedly from side to side.

"DIVA!" Mrs. Jones crooned back, jumping in her arms like she hadn't seen or spoken to her in ages. Both women stepped back and circled each other, looking the other up and down with a grin.

"Look at you, still fit and fly as ever!" Mrs. Jones sassed, resting her hands against her hips.

"I could say the same thing about you, Suga'! You ain't lyin' when they say black don't crack. I bow to your flawlessness." The Southern woman sassed back, stepping back to give her a sweeping bow.

"Ugh! Now you need to stop it, now! You gonna make my head swell!" Mrs. Jones laughed, opening her arms to welcome Mr. Evans. "And I trust she's been treating you well, William?"

"Not as well as you Pat, but she does all right," he flirted, winking in her direction.

"Now you need to stop it, William!" She swatted his chest. "You know I'm a married woman!"

"Yeah, and even if she wasn't, you know I'd divorce your behind and marry her in a heartbeat!" Mrs. Evans declared, sending a flirty wink of her own. "How you feelin' about Joe? He still treatin' you right?"

"Behave, Vic." Patrice warned, wagging her finger. "You know I just might take you up on that, but he's far too good to me. But if I cross over, you're my first call!"

"Always!" And the two friends performed a silly handshake and shared a laugh like giddy teenagers. Mrs. Evans smiled soon faltered a bit when she noticed Mercedes in the doorway.

"Oh, and there's my baby!" She scooped her up and hugged her close before Mercedes got the chance to reply. "How are you feelin', honey? You doin' alright?"

"I'm fine, Mama Vic." Mercedes smiled, loving the easy comfort she found in her. "I didn't know you guys were in town! When did you get in?"

"Yesterday. We're just passing through." Mr. Evans answered, smiling and embracing her as well. "You look lovely, Mercy, as always."

"Thanks, Pop," she said, kissing his cheek like she did her own father. Innocently, she tried peeking over his shoulder at the empty doorway. "Did you guys come alone?"

Mr. and Mrs. Evans looked at each other sadly before facing her again. "He didn't come with us, honey."

"Oh." The disappointment flashed in her eyes, but she quickly masked it. "I wasn't even talking about Sam, though. I meant Stevie and Stacie."

"Of course you did, dear,." Mrs. Evans said knowingly, reaching over to tuck her hair lovingly behind her ear. "They're back in Kentucky, over at a cousin's house. They send their love."

"And Stevie made sure to mention that he sends extra, extra love, even more than Stacie," Mr. Evans said with a laugh. "That boy has a crush on you somethin' fierce. It must be that Jones woman charm."

"Yeah, must be," Mercedes half-heartedly chuckled. Her eyes drifted to the still open door. She couldn't help it. Part of her still willed for Sam to show up at any moment. Every moment he didn't show made her hope even harder.

"So, just the five of us tonight, huh?" she said finally, not bothering to hide her disappointment this time.

Mr. Evans touched her shoulder and nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry, honey," he whispered.

She bit her lip and nodded in return, silently accepting it.

"Well," Mrs. Jones clapped. "What are we standing 'round the doorway for? Like we ain't got chairs to sit in! Come on back! The food's almost done and I can hear your stomach grumbling from here!" The hostess pushed her two friends toward the back, hurrying them on with a bright laugh. But, she didn't pass her daughter without giving her a nip on the chin and an encouraging smile of her own.

"They told me he's home, thinking everything over. He talked to them today and told them everything that he's been keeping inside. Some people just need a longer time to regroup and face things," she whispered to her daughter, softly rubbing her cheek. "I'm sure he's over there thinking about you, too. Not that you were wondering or anything." With a wink, she left and livened again, turning up the music and dancing alongside her crazy partners in crime.

Mercedes walked slowly to the door and gripped its frame. With one last hopeful glance out to the empty porch, she sighed and pushed it closed, sealing it all away with the click of a lock.

_He'll come back when he's ready_, her inner voice told her. _It's not forever._

**O-O**

She just sat in the background, watching with interest as her two mother figures interacted and chatted like old friends. Mercedes chuckled to herself when their cackles filled the air at some lame joke they'd shared, and wondered if she was seeing a reflection of herself in twenty years. They were still vibrant with life and had a solid friendship, and her mother still laughed with the inhibition of her youth. Would it be Santana laughing with her when she was that age? Quinn? Maybe all of them?

All Mercedes knew is seeing these two adults enjoying each other's company over a glass of wine inspired her to value the rooted friendships she she'd started in the springtime of her youth. If what she saw was any indication, she could have her mother's luck and be surrounded by a horde of drinking buddies to laugh with over a hot dish of lasagna and Marvin Gaye.

"Whoo, chile, I tell you! I don't know what you put in this fruit punch, Patty, but I feel like it's making me lose all my inhibitions!" Victoria Evans declared, downing the last bit of her tenth cup in one gulp.

Patrice watched her down it, suddenly worried. "Ease up on that now, Victoria. That's not fruit punch, that's Sangria."

"Sangria?" Her sharp nose scrunched comically. "What kind of fancy ass fruit punch is that?"

Patrice laughed. "It's not fruit punch Vicki. It's wine!"

"It is? Well, I'll be damned." Victoria shrugged and poured some more, filling her cup to the brim and effectively emptying the bottle. "Screw it. Life's short."

"So, I'm assuming the alcohol ban you put yourself on last month is officially over?" inquired Patrice, laughing when she answered with a heavy swig from her glass.

"Hell, I took myself off that ban two days after I started!" Both women cackled in laughter, slapping their laps and falling over each other. Mercedes laughed a bit herself, catching their attention.

"Oh hey, young blood! I forgot you were in here! Here I am, ignoring you. C'mere, darlin'!" Mercedes obeyed the tipsy woman's command, gasping in surprise when she squished her cheeks a bit too tightly together.

"Ms. Evans?" Mercedes questioned through squished lips.

"Shhh, honey you don't have to say a thing. I know exactly what you're thinking." Mrs. Evans rocked slightly and gave a lazy smile at some private thought that suddenly came to mind. "You're thinking, why is my boyfriend such a jackass, right?"

Mercedes brows furrowed, protesting with whips of her head. "Nu mum!" she mumbled, prying her face free of Mrs. Evans death grip. "No, ma'am!" she clarified. "I wasn't thinking about Sam."

"You say that, but I can see it in your eyes. I can sense it." Her shaky finger pointed at her nose, trying but failing to stay at the tip. "I have eyes and a heart and I know what a broken one looks like. You're nursing one, m'lady. That's fact."

She took another heavy swig of "fruit punch" before continuing. "Well, let me depart-depart?-yes, _depart _a little bit of knowledge, woman to woman. 'smportant, so pay 'tention."

"I think you need to have a little less of that fruit punch before you _impart _any wise words to my daughter, Vi," Patrice said with a chuckle, waving away her swatting arm.

"Keep it down, mom! I can hold my liquor! As I was saying," she joined their foreheads, her clouded blue eyes staring wildly into Mercedes' confused brown ones. " Advice for you. _All men say stupid shit_. It's fact. Encoded in their DNA. If they have a penis, just know there's some trying times acomin' when you're gonna want to slap the hell out of them for saying yet another stupid thing."

"Vi—"

"Pat, it's the truth! You can't shield her from this knowledge!" Victoria slurred emphatically. "Look Mercedes, I love my son. I birthed him, raised him, and carried him for nine long months in uterus. Stretched my vaj to kingdom come for his eight pound, eight ounce, ginormous head self. There is no one who understands the sacrifice of love quite like a mother." Patrice hummed in agreement behind her, sprinkling cheese over the cooling pasta. "But lemme tell you, as soon as that doctor told me I was having a boy, and I saw that little wee-wee as proof that it was true, I said to myself, "Self!" Victoria looked back and forth rapidly over her shoulder. "Huh? What? You rang? What is it, self? I said, this little boy, as adorable and precious as he is, is gonna grow up to ruin some young girl's life with just a thoughtless flick of his tongue." She clapped both hands on Mercedes shoulders. "Sadly, love, you were that girl. And when he decided to pick his moment, he picked the fuck up of all fuck ups."

"Vi!" Patrice slapped her shoulder, shooting her a look. "This is a Christian house now! None of that mess in here."

Victoria hiccupped and covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, babe. Won't happen again." She smiled and dropped her voice to a whisper, talking in Mercedes' ear. "But, where you lucked out is I taught him how to know _when _he messes up. Now that you don't find in _every _man, not even a good one like my husband. A guy who admits when he's wrong as soon as he's wrong is a dime a dozen. It's rare, but you got one of the rare ones. I made sure to raise him that way." Mercedes eyes widened when Mrs. Evans stood straight and smiled at her like they'd shared an eternal secret.

"Give him some time. He'll wise up. And if I know him like I know I do, he'll be on that doorstep 'fore mornin'. Mark my words." She nodded surely and downed the last of her drink, dropping her body loosely into an awaiting chair. "You'll be back together this very night, even."

Mercedes stared incredulously at her, but soon wondered if alcohol had unearthed some sort of prophetic gift in Mrs. Evans. For just then, her father walked into the kitchen and announced that he'd encountered the very same blond boy sitting on the doorstep when he went to take out the garbage.

"I just walked out and saw him there, sitting in the dark." He explained. "And clearly, he wasn't waiting for me."

She shook her head, eyeing the front door fearfully. "Daddy, I can't-"

"Now what did I tell you about this _I can't _business? Since when did a Jones start talking like that? Now you are going to go out there, talk to that boy, and give him a chance to explain, young lady. I'll be damned if I have him camping out on my newly laid cobblestones!"

Mercedes chuckled in spite of herself. "Daddy—"

"Go give it another chance, Mercedes. He's been through a lot, too. And if our conversation says anything, you both have a hell of a lot of explaining to catch up on." Mercedes stared appallingly at her father. "What? The garbage took a little longer to take out than I expected! Plus, did you really think I was gonna send you out there without a thorough interrogation first? Not on your life!" he exclaimed. "No go, young lady. And don't come back in here until you're happy again."

Mercedes smiled at his clever grin and hugged him tight. "I love you, daddy."

He kissed her forehead and pulled her in, holding just a bit longer. "He loves you now, but I loved you first. Remember that." After a moment, he pulled away and gently shoved her to the door. "Go on, now."

**O-O**

Opening the door was the hardest part. She clenched and unclenched the doorknob three times before stepping back and rethinking her actions. Was she doing the right thing? Was she ready to go out there? What if she wasn't ready to hear what he had to say?

_No fear_, her conscience whispered. That had been this week's theme, it seemed. Deciding, she counted to three and pulled the door open, not opening her eyes until she'd stepped out and closed the door behind her.

_Okay, you can do this now. Just open your eyes. _ And when she did, she saw him, handsome and real as ever, perched on her doorstep like she'd hoped he would be.

He sensed her presence and turned his head, meeting her hesitant stare with a shy grin.

"Hey."

"Hey." She answered back quietly, not knowing what else to say. Mustering the courage, she tucked her dress underneath her and sat on the other side of the step, the greatest distance away from him.

They looked off into the night, both thinking of ways to fill the awkward silence.

"It stopped raining."

She nodded, internally rolling her eyes. "Yeah it did."

He side-glanced her way, itching to close the gap between them. Unfortunately, there was still so much in the way.

"I spoke with my folks today."

"Oh?

"I told them everything, about school, the move…and you." Their eyes finally met. "They helped me set up a plan to get myself together. Hopefully, it will change things."

"I'm glad," she answered shortly, looking down at her sandals. He sighed sadly and looked at his as well, near tears again from the incredible distance between them.

After a beat of silence, Mercedes slowly inched closer to him, moving her hand from her lap toward the middle. "What did you guys decide?"

She still wasn't looking at him, but he would take any small opportunity he could get. "I'm gonna get a tutor to help me every day after school. Since the semester's almost over, it won't be enough to get me to graduate on time, but with a little luck, I should be done come summer."

"That sounds great." She smiled, showing a more visible interest.

"And," he slid slightly closer to her, eyeing her warily. "I plan on getting counseling, too. For the attack and any other issues I might be dealing with. It will be with an outside doctor in a therapist's office-"

"You hate doctor's offices," she chuckled. "You couldn't even stand in my dad's office for five seconds without getting nauseous."

"Yeah," he laughed, rubbing his neck before suddenly turning serious. He inched closer still, turning in toward her. "I hate what's happened to us even more."

"Me, too." She scooted in, turning in as well. "What you said really hurt me, y'know."

"I know." He said quickly. "And I was stupid to ever make you feel that way. It was my own issues coming up and I just exploded on you. I'm sorry, Mercedes. "

She nodded and grew silent again. After thinking a while, she moved in closer, until their fingers grazed each other's.

"Did you really blame me for what happened?" she asked quietly.

"At first, yeah I did." He sighed, going for broke with complete honestly. "But, I realize that I just needed something and someone to blame. Random circumstance wasn't enough, Donovan and his boys weren't enough, so I turned the blame on you. It was stupid of me."

"And now?" she met his eyes expectantly, waiting for his answer.

"Now, I don't see the blame in anyone. There was no explanation for what happened and it shouldn't have happened, but it did. It's worth less to blame and more to figure out how to move forward. You and I are all that matters to me."

Another stretch of silence loomed between them, laced with the appropriate sound of chirping crickets before he asked, "Did you ever blame me?"

"No. I just worried you'd leave." she replied sadly. "But that passed the moment you said you'd be there forever."

His fingers skimmed across her own, lightly touching her fingertips. "I won't leave again. And I'd still like to try forever with you, if you want." he told her, eyes shining with eager hope. "Do you still want that?"

She regarded him for a long moment, thinking it over, before she smiled and closed the small space between them, lightly lacing their fingers.

"I do," she said gently, and like a summer song, her voice bellowed away the last of his fears.

He lifted her hand and kissed each finger, splaying them over his heart. "I do, too." he replied, smiling back in relief.

They sat together, much happier, enjoying the warm breeze lightly swirling around them and the waft of fresh grass in the air. It wasn't everything, but it was a healthy start.

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

She smiled fondly, mesmerized by the fireflies floating around them. "First John 4:18. You know it?"

He shook his head, more caught up in the sight of her resting on his shoulder than any lighting bug. "But you're more versed in the bible than I am."

"My mom is," she corrected. "She used to read me that verse all the time, when I was afraid or sad." She closed her eyes and recited the scripture from memory. "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." Mercedes opened her eyes when she finished, staring up into the green ones boring into her. "I know it was talking about God's love, but do you think ordinary people like us could ever have that? A love so pure that it drives away any fear of the unknown?"

He nodded, smiling down at her. "I know so. If we couldn't, we wouldn't be here right now, would we?"

"I guess not." She sighed, laying her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead under the light of the stars. They sat for a while in a comfortable silence, thinking of all that has happened.

"Mercedes?"

It was her turn to stare at him. "Yes?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," he told her, lacing their fingers together. "Not with you."

"Yeah?" he nodded. Her smile grew at his sincerity. "I'm not afraid of anything either, Sam. Not with you."

"Our love's as perfect as it's going to get then, huh?"

She sighed contentedly. "Mmmhmm." She hummed delightfully, pressing their palms together. She fiddled with their hands, staring at the beauty of their joined hands. Their differences were so clear; his long, slender fingers crossed with her shorter, plump ones. His paler skin against her darker hue. The feminine softness of her fingertips rubbing against his calloused ones, created delightful friction when they touched. Everything about them was beautiful.

Mercedes suddenly rose and ran into the house, the shutter door slamming behind her from the gust of wind following her exit. Before Sam could even register she'd left him, she returned, holding her favorite purple shawl.

"Suddenly cold?" he questioned with a laugh.

She joined him, plopping back into her space next to him on the front steps. "No. I had to do something for you. It's important."

"You're gonna tie me up in your shawl or something?" he joked. "Because if you are, I want you to know that I would be _so _into that."

She playfully smacked his shoulder. "No, weirdo!" she laughed. "I told you it's important."

"And what's so important about you, me, and your favorite shawl that doesn't involve some form of bondage?" he teased, watching her small fingers play with the fringe of the fabric.

Mercedes wrapped her finger around a small piece and broke it off, taking his hand. "Something I should've done in the hallway after the performance, when you asked me to promise."

His brow furrowed in question, but quickly relaxed when she tied the small fabric around his ring finger, sealing it with a masculine knot instead of the feminine bow he'd given her.

"Why was this so important to you, Mercedes?" he asked her curiously, his voice holding no sign of displeasure. In fact, he rubbed the small symbol of love fondly, rolling it back and forth over his finger.

"Because if we're doing this, we're doing this together as _partners. _And I think we started this all wrong." She confessed.

"What do you mean? Everything was perfect." Sam couldn't envision their reunion any better than it actually was.

"That's the thing, Sam. Maybe it was too perfect?" Mercedes giggled at his baffled pout. He was so adorable when he was clueless. "We just started up again, like nothing happened. Like summer never interrupted us. We were different people after we broke up, and we never gave the new us a real chance. Now, we've had all of this happen to us, and we got upset at each other over all these issues that existed way before the attack. You and school, me and the break up with Shane, us and who we were in the new relationship…." She shook her head. "It was all too much."

"So what are you saying?" he asked, still a bit confused.

Sam panicked when she paused and stopped to collect her thoughts. His mind jumped to the worst conclusions. He couldn't imagine coming so far, going through so much, to leave without her again.

"I guess I'm saying…" He held his breath as she moved to continue. "Maybe we should start over? Try working from a clean slate instead of trying to pick up where we left off? I know I love you Sam. And I realize you love me. We've both made that more than clear." He smiled at her comment, relieved. "But, if anything, these last couple of weeks has taught us that love isn't enough by itself. Relationships are far more layered. And after our argument last week…."

"We need a fresh start," he finished, running his fingers through his long bangs with a sigh. "You're right. But, where do we start exactly?

"I don't know." Mercedes hadn't thought that far. "Maybe we can start with some rules?"

"Rules?" he answered skeptically. "Like dating rules?"

"In a way. Rules for us and how we communicate. We haven't been doing a great job of that lately," she explained sadly.

"True." He groaned. "I've been an ass."

"We've both been asses," she corrected. "And that's gonna be rule number one: We both accept responsibility for the direction of our relationship. No accusing or assuming." She nudged his chin. "Or self-blaming," she said pointedly. "We're in this together, okay?"

"Agreed." He nodded. "And we should always say what's on our minds, especially if it has to do with us or the attack. We both need to stop keeping things in."

"Okay, then. Rule two: If we ask each other what we're thinking, we have to be totally honest. No more being plagued by our secret thoughts. We share what's bothering us."

Sam offered a lopsided smile. "I like that rule."

"Me too." She nodded.

"Anything else we can think of?" He followed her gaze to his hands on her thighs as he rubbed and kneaded them. He pulled back abruptly, resting his hands in his own lap instead. "Babe, I didn't mean to do that. I'm so-"

"That's rule number three. No more apologizing for touching me," she declared, slightly annoyed. When he winced and bowed his head, she softened her tone, lovingly cupping his cheek until he met her eyes again. "I love when you touch me. I want you to _want_ to touch me again," she explained. "And I don't want you to EVER have to apologize for it. We love each other. It's okay to stroke me or rub my thighs or nibble my ear. I want you to."

"But what if I go too far like last time?" he asked, referring to their pained sexual moment after the attack. "Baby, you have no idea how much that night haunted me. I felt like a monster for triggering that response in you. I never want that to happen again."

Her eyes pained for him. She nodded in understanding. "I know. It won't, I promise," she assured him. "That will never happen again."

"Mercedes, you can't promise that," he gently argued. "You have no idea what I'll do or say that will set you off or bring up a memory. You don't know when it's going to happen. If you did, Friday night wouldn't have happened."

She looked off in thought, nibbling the side of her lip. "Maybe I can tell you when it happens? Let you know when we're in the moment, when I'm feeling uncomfortable or scared."

"Safe words," he whispered lowly, missing her ear.

"What?"

"Safe words," he said louder, eyes shining with the brilliance of his idea. "I was reading some psychology books about sexual abuse and how to help someone who's gone through it. In my research, I read about safe words that survivors can use with their partners. It's a word or phrase that lets them know right away that they've gone too far so they can stop immediately. Some people separate completely and give each other space to regroup. Some prefer if their partner rests hands on a less intimate part of their body, like their shoulders or forearms. Some women even allow full contact, just as long as the person stops when they ask them to. Safe words," he explained.

"You _researched_ for me?" she asked in awe.

"Yeah." He blushed, rubbing his neck with a bashful grin. "About thirty books, actually." Sam's distaste for reading was known fact, especially when his dyslexia made the task more difficult, so she was more than touched by his effort to educate himself about their unique situation.

"I hated reading all those big, university level words, but I care about you and I really wanted us to work. When we were apart, I couldn't think of anything else but you. So, I decided to stop moping and arm myself with as much knowledge as possible. I got Burt to help me with some of the really complicated words at first. I told him I was researching for a paper so he wouldn't get too curious. Then, after a while, I got the hang of it and did it all myself. Mom and Dad got me a couple more when they figured out what I was doing. I still have about two more to read. They're written by leading experts, and Oprah said that they are the absolute best-"

He was cut off by the sudden onslaught of her lips, pressing an eager, grateful kiss to his mouth. She used his surprise as opportunity to pull him in, twisting the collar of his shirt around her hand and pulling him in deeper until their tongues married and he hummed low and throaty in her mouth.

"Shit!" he breathlessly exclaimed when she released his lips with an audible pop. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

"It was a thank you kiss," she replied softly with a shy smile. "It is also an 'I_ appreciate you'_ kiss. Needless to say, it is most definitely an '_I care about you too and I want us to work' _kiss_. _All of those things."

"Oh." He touched his swollen lips with a goofy smile. "Well, thank _you._" His eyes shone eagerly. "You know, if brains turn you on, I can go to the library and read a hundred books—"

"Oh, Sam…" she sighed, with a playful roll of her eyes. She reached out to interlock her adorned left hand with his, gripping it securely. "So, we're doing this-together this time," she declared as she ran her thumb over his, more questioning statement than fact.

Sam nodded. "Since you up and put a ring on it, count me in," he replied, waggling his newly decorated ring finger. They grinned and settled back into each other's embrace, fully enjoying the familiar warmth of springtime and each other's company now that the air was clear.

"You know, I talked to Bee about you," she said suddenly.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." She let out a small laugh when she remembered their conversation and her counselor's knack for reading her like a book. "I told her you were my Prince Charming."

"Oh." He sighed heavily. "Regretting that now?"

"No. Not really," she said thoughtfully, biting her lip. "I just think I should have been clearer in my description of you."

He turned in her embrace, leaning back a bit to meet her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean when I said Prince Charming, I should have explained that I didn't mean the gallant white knight on his noble steed, rushing to rescue me and whisk me off into the sunset." She turned as well, until their bodies faced each other. "Baby, you know me. I've never needed saving. I've never asked you to fill any hole in my life. That's too much pressure for anyone."

"So, why Prince Charming?" he asked, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and his hand was still warm from the caress of her skin on his own. His heart still skipped a beat, too. He could feel the moment it stopped when her cheek nestled in his palm.

"Because you're my dream come true. You're everything I'd spent nights wishing and praying for, hoping that God would send me one day. You're every bit the person I saw myself growing old with, sharing a life with, maybe having a couple of kids with…"

"Twenty?" he teased, smiling when her face wrinkled in distaste.

"Maybe two, Sam."

"Okay, ten, but that's my final offer." They laughed together, at the silliness of it all. "We can compromise."

"And I love how you're willing to meet me halfway." She added, falling back into their conversation. "You never once asked me to change or be something I'm not. You loved me just like I was. You love me when I'm temperamental, moody, or when I change my mind a million times about something."

"I stop at a million and one, woman. There's only so much indecision I can take!" he joked, eyes shining.

"And you make me laugh!" she giggled. "Did I ever tell you that your smile lights my heart? I feel so much better when you smile with me."

His grin grew bigger as he blushed at her compliment. "God, woman. You and words!"

"It's true!" She reached up to smooth his warming cheek, speaking softly. "You're true, honest, and brave, and loving. And I trust you with everything because I know you. I know I can." Her chin quivered with emotion as she whispered, "I love you so much, Samuel Evans. And I hate fighting with you."

"I hate it, too, babe. I can't stand being angry with you." He leaned in until their foreheads pressed together. "Anyone and anything else, but _never _with you. It felt like someone ripped my heart right outta my chest," he admitted in a pained voice, slipping into his accent. "I was jonesin' for ya, darlin'"

She closed her eyes and laughed at his endearment until her whole body shook in his arms. "Totally appropriate, Sam. Very smooth."

"What can I say? I'm suddenly good with words. I learned from my smart, brainiac girlfriend," he said, grinning as he tapped her smiling lips. "Besides, if I'm gonna be your Prince Charming, I gotta learn to sweep you off your feet with charmin' words and poetry and stuff, right?"

She kissed his fingers. "Consider me swept, Sam."

He looked her over for a long moment, her eyes, her lips, her nose, and suddenly grew serious. "I want to earn this."

It was her turn to look adorably confused. "Earn what?"

"Your trust and your love. The sparkle in your eyes when you look at me, like I'm the only guy that's worthy of your heart. I want to earn them again," he said.

She shook her head, voicing her concerns. "Babe, I already told you. You don't have to prove—"

"I'm not trying to prove anything to you, Mercy," he said softly. "I'm proving it to me. I want to be everything and more for me, for us. You deserve the whole world, baby, and all I want to do is help give it to you. The best way I can do that is work on me, to become a man I can be proud of so we can have a relationship _we _can be proud of. I love you too, Mercedes Jones. Always have and always will. Distance hasn't stopped it, our fight hasn't stopped it…." He leaned in closer. "And everything that's happened….that doesn't change a thing about how I feel about you."

"Yeah?" she leaned in closer to him, until their lips pressed against each other.  
>"Yeah." He smiled.<p>

The corners of her mouth curved against his. "I'm glad," she whispered. They both closed the gap, meeting in the middle like true love should, and joined in a passionate kiss.

Two obnoxiously loud knocks against the window startled them apart.

"Didya two made up?" Victoria sing-songed, sloshing the forbidden glass of red wine all over her hand as she waved it around. "Did you two work out y'alls diff'ences and make nice-nice?"

Mercedes chortled silently in her throat, pressing a finger to Sam's lips to keep him quiet. "Yeah, mama Vic! We're all made up now!"

The celebratory cheer that left the inebriated woman's mouth was loud and inhumanly screeching. "Yeooowwwiiee! Pat? Pat? Ya heard that? Ya heard how I gets them right? It'awuzz my words that put them *hic* put them…." she paused for a moment to giggle and remember her thought. "Put them back on track! Where'z mytwentay, Pat? Where'z tha twentay you owe me? You owes me a bright, shiny, crisp dolla bill, I reckon!" Their eyes widened in amusement when they heard the bump and roll of furniture, followed by the thud of a stumbling body and the footsteps of an approaching one. When Sam heard Mrs. Jones curse out his mom under her breath and yell her name like some naughty child, he nearly lost it.

"Don't'ya use that tone wiffme, young lady!" she drunkenly argued, her voice growing distant and faint as Mrs. Jones pulled her toward the back. "I'm top mama up in this bitch!"

Prim Victoria Evans drunken sailor mouth broke them both. Sam and Mercedes doubled over each other in harsh, contagious fits of laughter, ones that made their bellies ache and sides cramp until they grew winded. It was a summer laugh, hearty and innocent, of teenagers without a serious care in the world. That laugh, their joy, was months overdue, and even when they fell tiredly in each other's arms, reduced to light chuckles, they could sit in a comfortable silence and enjoy the leftover buzzing tingle it left in the air around them.

In their own modern retelling of a classic love story, Sam and Mercedes's reunion made for one hell of a fairy tale, blossoming into the start of a happily ever after book writers and poets would be proud of. Only, in this story, the princess would get her own horse to ride into the sunset and her prince, brave and true, would gallop right along beside her, ready to be the partner and friend she needed instead of the savior people painted him to be.

Because, in many ways, he wasn't. She had saved him, too.

**OMG, did you love it? I loved writing it! Hurry up and review so you can tell me your favorite parts! I love hearing from you. Next chapter's called doubt. Expect plenty more samcedes fluff, relationship building, confrontations with Larry and Eddie...and possibly Donovan? Plus, Santana and Mercedes have an important heart to heart. **

**Stay tuned!**


	19. Chapter 18 Doubt

**This update's about a month late, but hopefully its angsty-fluffy-heart stopping goodness will make up for that. (I exaggerate, but artistic license gives me that privilege) **

**The ending of this chapter will be a shocker (NOT a chapter eleven shocker, but a shocker nonetheless), so be prepared. It's been a long time coming….**

**As always, read, enjoy, and leave me your precious thoughts and opinions in reviews! I read them when I'm feeling down. =) **

**O-O**

At Patrice and Mercedes's insistence, The Evans' slept the night at the Jones' residence and enjoyed the company of their hosts. Patrice stocked them with fresh towels and extra linen and situated them in the guest rooms. Sam was in the corner room downstairs, away from Mercedes room, at _Joseph's _insistence. He may like the boy, but he wasn't stupid. Love reunions make teenagers frisky, and he'll be damned if he was sleeping in the same house while that blond bag of hormones ravaged his little girl. He _wasn't having it. _

The joy and laughter of friendly company overshadowed any residual tension from yesterday (coupled with a healthy dose of alcohol for the women) and all woke up Sunday morning in great spirits. Sam and Mercedes's personal reunion made them giddier than ever. In fact, unbeknownst to them, their mornings were almost identical. Both bounded out of bed at the crack of dawn with eyes alight and eager hearts, humming one love tune after another as they went through their usual morning routines with an extra bounce in their step. Occasionally, they would catch their own reflections in the mirror while they brushed or dried their faces and suddenly giggle and beam for absolutely no reason at all. Or perhaps they did know the reason. They were familiar with the feeling of utter bliss, but were too overcome with the emotion to properly name it. Thinking was a nuance to their joy; so instead, they laughed and let the tingling prickle of its presence dance across their skin and into their morning.

Mercedes was in the middle of fixing her curls, singing and swaying to random verses of Christina Aguilera's _"Ain't No Other Man",_ when Sam left his guest room and bounded up the steps, two at a time, in earnest toward his lady love.

She paused with her curling iron around a loose tendril when she heard the clamor of footsteps, then beamed in the mirror when she heard Sam's distinct knock from summer rapping on her door. It spelled out "I love you" in Morse code, and the message sounded louder and faster today than it usually did.

"My little dork" she whispered fondly, biting back her smile at the last of his knocks. She fanned her fresh curl to help it set in place and gave her curly tendrils a light mist of sheen and holding spray. Turning off her iron and smoothing down the pleated skirt of her Sunday best, she excitedly ran to the door to see him. Taking a calming breath, she paused to collect herself before turning the knob to greet him. But when she finally opened the door and saw his face, she realized the collecting moment was in vain. Her heart thundered in her chest with a vengeance.

"Hi," he breathlessly said, grinning and glowing like he'd caught the sun. By the pace of his breaths, it was safe to assume that his heart was beating just as rapidly as hers, if not more from his leaps upstairs. Mercedes giggled at the thought of their hearts as cartoons, sweating and panting as one with their tongues wagging as they swelled out of their chests.

"Hi," she replied just as sunnily, tipping back and forth on her toes and bashfully swinging the skirt of her dress.

She was always a vision in his eyes, but especially so today. Her fifties inspired satin plum dress with patent leather belt emphasized a shape that belied a young woman four years fresh from puberty. Coupled with her matching headband and copious amount of barrel curls tumbling down her shoulders, all Sam could see was woman in front of him. It was as if she'd blossomed into a new stage of womanhood overnight and he was seeing a new her for the first time.

"You look absolutely stunning," he said honestly.

"So do you." Her cheeks were warm. It was no false compliment. The charcoal grey of his suit made his creamy skin glow and enriched the green of his eyes to a deeper, sparkling emerald. He slicked his hair just enough on the sides and a bit at the top for a tousled, rugged pompadour. She _loved _when he slicked his hair. A stray, slick strand fell from the coifed style, falling just above his strong brow and giving his boyish features a manlier edge. He looked positively grown and perfectly sexy. Her fingers couldn't resist the familiar sweep of the stubborn strand away from his face, nor her hands the gentle cupping of his cheek as said fingers trailed down and settled on the sharp corner of his jaw.

Sam covered her hand with his and closed his eyes, savoring the moment as he leaned into her soft touch. When his green gaze returned to her, they shimmered and sparkled with even more life, eyeing his jewel.

"May I kiss you good morning?"

The new question took her aback, as did the old flutter of nervous butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Nearly a year of love and loss had passed between them, nearly twelve months of history, and something as simple as a request for a good morning kiss suddenly felt brand new. If an outsider looked in at this very moment, they would swear that they were witnessing a burgeoning friendship teeter over the precipice and fall into the unfamiliar depths of a deeper relationship for the very first time.

Mutely, Mercedes nodded, lips quivering anxiously as she leaned in. Sam mirrored a hand on her cheek and rested the other on the small of her back, holding her gently as he met her for a tender, lingering kiss. Mercedes stepped in to deepen it, just enough to feel the full breadth of him pressed against her, before they softly parted. Their foreheads rested together as they reveled in the meaningfulness of the tender moment.

"That was…"

"Perfect," Sam finished softly, running his lips up the bridge of her nose to lovingly kiss her brow. "Thank you."

She buried her nose in his neck, inhaling the familiar mix of spice in his scent and regaining her sense of gravity. "You're welcome, Sam," she replied, sighing contently when he wrapped his arms around her and held her for just a bit longer. She rocked slowly in his arms, rubbing her lips against his textured lapel and nuzzling her nose the smooth silk of his dark green tie.

_Bliss_, she thought in the silence, finally given a quiet moment name the feeling.

"Bliss" Sam said aloud; bold enough to say its name.

"Yes. So much." As she drew back, her arms found their way from around his waist to his shoulders, wrapping around his neck. Sam's thick brow quirked when Mercedes grin suddenly turned playful.

"I bet you can't race me downstairs and beat me!" she challenged, nudging his nose and wrinkling her own.

Sam happily played along, making point to gesture to her peep toe stilettos with his foot. "In those shoes, Mercy? That's like an invitation to get your ass whooped."

"Not if you're a diva. I've outrun my brother farther distances in higher heels."

"Liar!" he playfully challenged.

"No, it's the God honest truth!" she listed the facts on her fingers. "I was thirteen years old and wearing six inch heels. I raced my sixteen year old brother from here to the post office _and _he was wearing his old Jordans."

Sam nodded, impressed at the feat. It was at least a five block run, if not more. "Not bad. There's only one problem, though."

"What's that?" she asked, giving him a curious look.

"When it comes to winning, I don't play fair." He smirked, stepping out of her embrace.

"Is that so?" Her competitive eye quickly perused their comparative distance from the steps. Sam stood a bit closer, but his back was turned. She could easily pull a quick dodge and skirt around him. All she needed was a good distraction.

"I don't play fair either, Sam." Before he could process the clever glint in her eye, Mercedes grabbed him by his belt and spun him around, slamming his back against the closed guestroom door beside her room. In one swift motion, she held him down and captured his lips in a hard, electrifying kiss. With this maneuver, she had him disoriented physically and mentally, which gave herself prime position near the steps. Mercedes broke away just when his lips responded, laughing her way down the stairs at the sight of his puckered lips and mussed 'do.

Her laugh lifted his kiss induced fog, just in time for Sam to hear her taunting him halfway down the stairs.

"Now you look like your namesake, Trouty!" And the little minx had the gall to jam her thumbs on either side of her head, wiggle her fingers and stick out her tongue mid-run, looking every bit like the thirteen year old version of herself.

"You're dead meat, Jones!" he playfully growled, jetting after her. She shrieked and quickened her pace, but his longer legs gave him the advantage, giving him just enough edge to catch her near the bottom.

"Put me down, Evans!" she laughed, wiggling and flailing when he lifted her bridal style and crossed the final step. "You cheater! You know I won! You know it!"

"_Excuse me?! _ You kissed me blind! You cheated first!" He looked at her incredulously and tightened his hold around her thighs and arms, stilling her with his firm hold. "Now say I won, woman!"

"NEVER!" She cackled when he spun her around and ran with her down the hall and into the kitchen. "It was tactic! It was taac-ttiicc!" she called out, laughing until the halls shook with the sound. Sam roared playfully and attacked her neck with his teeth and lips, wriggling his head in the ticklish flesh of her neck until she relented.

"Okay, okay! OKAY, damn it! You win! I cheated!" she cried.

"What? What was that, cheata'?" He chuckled, raising his head to stare her down.

"I said I cheated!" Her laughs died down with gulps and pants. "But I still won, so..."

"LIAR!" he roared again, continuing his mock assault on her neck.

Mercedes squirmed to her feet, but he caught her from behind and tackled her waist, lips leeching to the sensitive spot on the underside of her neck.

"Tell the truth! Say I won fair and square, woman!" he demanded, his voice muffled by the vice suction of his lips on her skin.

"Never, ever, EVER! And stop it leech, before you suck my skin off!" She chuckled as she finally pushed his head away, settling into the vice grip of his strong arms instead. Sam pulled her flush against him, her back to his front, and calmed his attentions to a light nibble on her ear.

"At least say it was a draw," he begged lowly, teasing her earlobe with his teeth.

Mercedes sighed happily and leaned her head farther to the left to give him room. "Fine, fine. We both won." She relented with a mock pout. "Only 'cause you're so damn tall."

"I feel like a winner," said Sam, grinning victoriously. But when he kissed her neck, slower this time, his smile faltered at her noticeable tense.

"Home," she yelped anxiously, testing out the effectiveness of their decided safe word.

"Too much?" he whispered, easing away and lightening his hold.

"Honestly? Yeah, a little. It got too serious and made me panic." Her withered stare told him before she could. "Sam, I'm so—"

He hushed her apology with a light tap of his finger. "Hey, none of that. Rule two, remember? Besides, this is still really new. Were still learning how to approach the _after _in all of this."

She nodded, but her face still fell sorrowfully to the floor, hidden by a curtain of gossamer curls.

"Hey….babe, don't do that. Don't shut me out." Sam tucked a finger under her chin, lifting her face back up to his. "It's gonna take time, right? We've talked about this. We're starting over." He reminded her as gently and reassuringly as possible.

"I know, I just…." She gave a pathetic shrug. "I just want us to be better _now_, you know? We've already spent so much time apart, with the move and Shane and all of this. I just feel like we can't catch a break!" She swiveled in his arms and hugged him tight. He blew a tense breath and returned her hug, leaning them both exhaustedly against the frame of the kitchen entryway.

"Sometimes, with graduation and college so close, I worry that we won't have enough time. What if we don't get better by the end of summer, before I have to leave for the fall? I don't want to think about it, but stuff like this happens and I can't help it. I_ just_ got you back, Sam," she said despairingly. Mercedes closed her eyes and rested her temple against the pounding pulse of his chest.

"We will, Mercy. We have to. We're stronger than this." However, the strain in his voice held an air of uncertainty.

Sam rested his chin atop her head and stared into space, silently nodding at all the unanswered questions swirling in his head. _Of course_ they would make it. Absolutely. Last night, their love had already proven that it was stronger than anything they feared.

But what of doubt? Were they synonymous? Were fear and doubt equal enemies? Could the two giants be slain with the same sling of a stone?

Maybe doubt required ammunition stronger than love.

But what was stronger? Nothing he could think of. Different, maybe? If love defeated fear, what defeated doubt?"

"Do you wonder too, Sam?" Mercedes asked her uneasily silent boyfriend. "As happy as I was when I woke up, I could help the niggling doubt looming in the corner, waiting for everything to come crashing down again. Do you ever feel it?"

Her doe eyes stared and waited hopefully, looking for answers that would validate her feelings. Sam's mouth opened and closed several times, but he struggled to find fitting words.

Luckily, Sam didn't have to struggle long. The adults came bustling in wearing their church attire and the animated conversation eased the couple apart to their respective families. Mercedes greeted her parents with kisses and helped her mom dish out several plates of hot breakfast for everyone. After a quick hug and approving whistle at Sam's sharp suit, Mr. Evans assigned his son the task of retrieving Tylenol and fresh coffee for his ailing mother. She was still hungover from her alcohol binge last night and Mr. Evans hoped to sober her up enough to avoid any embarrassing snores during church service.

Sam had no trouble finding the emergency stash of pills in his mother's purse. She always kept a bottle in the zipper compartment, just in case. Dumping two extra strength tablets in his palm, he laid it next to her with a glass of water and quickly went to gather the filters and coffee grounds to brew a fresh pot. As the coffeemaker rumbled to life, Sam stared into the glass pot and watched the steady stream of dark java pour, mulling over his thoughts.

He had his doubts, too. Everything she said had plagued him weeks before their break up and reunion, but he didn't want to stress her out further by telling her that.

Truth was, he'd often wondered if they would heal enough to last a long distance relationship. It hadn't worked out well for them before and they'd had less drama between them.

And that wasn't his only hang-up. Sam has plenty more personal doubts he didn't voice, things he didn't feel ready to tell Mercedes until he sought counsel.

For his private questions, he needed another guy's insight. He needed someone who was older and had more life experience than he'd had. Someone who knew him and Mercedes well and understood the difficulty of their situation.

His father came to mind, but he was far too close to give him the blunt honesty he needed. He didn't want soft words and a delicate approach. He wanted hardcore honesty from someone willing to listen, a man strong in his convictions and unafraid to tear him a new one if necessary.

He needed Joseph Jones.

**O-O**

"Mr. Jones? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Mr. Jones halted his task of cleaning chicken and steak in the kitchen sink to acknowledge him. "Sure. What is it, son?"

Sam watched the older man's hands move with experience, peeling away the fat and skin from a chicken leg with one shuck of the knife. "It's about me. And Mercedes." He gulped before continuing. "And …..touching."

The bloody knife dropped into the kitchen sink with a scraping clang against the metal interior. Mr. Jones gave Sam a pointed look, squinting his eyes in assessment. Sam shifted nervously, regretting his decision more and more during the awkward silence, before Mr. Jones's voice broke through the uneasy calm.

"Pat? Patricia?" he cried out, calling to his wife in the living room. Getting no answer, he bellowed for her again.

"Pat?"

"Yeah, Joe?" She appeared in the hallway, wiping her grass and dirt covered hands on the seat of her tan overalls. Judging from the wide brimmed woven hat she wore and the green handled trowel in her hands, he had just interrupted her afternoon gardening. "I was just about to lay some seeds and pluck a few tomatoes for dinner. Vick and Mike said they wanted to taste the work of my green thumb." She smiled. "What's up?"

"I was just gonna let you know that dinner's gonna be on me this evening." Mr. Jones stared directly at Sam. "Sam and I are gonna go in the back and do some grilling."

"Grilling? You and Sam?" she asked, a bit taken aback. Her husband never shared his grill with anyone, ever. She had to convince him to even let her turn the meat over once when he had cut his hand slicing the vegetables. Even his children, his pride and joy, weren't allowed near it.

Mr. Jones nodded, eyes never leaving the boy. "Me and Sam. We need to have a talk."

Mrs. Jones looked back and forth between her husband's stern face and Sam's fearful one. "Need any help out there?" she offered, hoping her presence would prevent any unnecessary deaths.

"No ma'am. Just me and the boy." Mr. Jones smile made Sam gulp even harder. "We're gonna chat, man to man." He walked over and gave Sam a manly pat on the shoulder, squeezing it with a bit more force than necessary.

Mrs. Jones looked warily between the two men, nodding. "I see." Her eyes sent a silent threat to her husband, telepathically communicating what would happen to him if Sam didn't come back in one piece. "Have fun, boys." She told them lightly, arching her brow at Mr. Jones smug grin before retreating back to her gardening.

"We will, baby!" he called behind her, sending her off with a salute. "Can't wait to try those tomatoes!"

Mrs. Jones turned and rolled her eyes at her husband's enthusiasm, closing the front door behind her after she added, "That better be the only red I see on that grill!"

"What did she mean _that better be the only red I see_?" Sam asked, panicked.

"Just come to the grill, Son," said Mr. Jones, pulling open the slide door and welcoming him forward. "I promise not to bite."

Sam eyed his shark grin and said a quick and silent prayer before crossing the threshold. He counted to ten in his head to calm his racing heart, and then silently prayed again when he heard Mr. Jones click the safety lock on the sliding door closed.

"W-wwhy'd we have to meet out here, Mr. Jones? Why couldn't we talk inside?"

Mr. Jones walked passed him to the grill, saying nothing.

"We are just gonna _talk_, right Mr. Jones?" Sam's eyes widened when Mr. Jones pulled out the sharp barbeque fork and book of matches, lighting one to ignite the grill and heat the pointed tip of the metal. "M-Mr. Jones?"

"You know what I love about grilling, boy?" Mr. Jones took a bloody piece of carnage and held it in his hands for Sam to see. "It's a real _man's _domain. It is our turf. A place where we can indulge in our primal urge to carve into flesh…" he slapped the raw meat down on the heated surface, making the skin sizzle and crackle menacingly. "And _kill_."

"Sir? I-I-I don't follow."

"You wanted to talk about you and Mercedes…and _touching_, didn't you?" Mr. Jones asked, stabbing a slab of bloodied steak with his fork and tossing it idly on the fire with another crack and sizzle, sounding even louder and more violent than the first. Mr. Jones smile dropped as he beckoned him with his finger. "Come here, boy."

"A-alright, Mr. Jones." Sam slowly stepped forward, masking his fear with a brave face. But it seemed the closer he got to the grill, the larger and wilder the fire seemed, and the sharper the barbeque fork looked in Mr. Jones hand. His unusually peaceful face as he welcomed him didn't help either.

"You know, Mercedes is supposed to be down any moment. She'll probably be looking for me…you know, since I'm her boyfriend and all. She'll probably miss me if I'm gone too long…"

"She'll manage," Mr. Jones replied.

Sam rubbed his sweaty palms on the pockets of his jeans. "But I'd hate for her to not know where I am. I mean, what if she worries? I wouldn't want her to worry…." Sam's fear peeked through when Mr. Jones bent down to turn up the gas and increase the flame. "And did you know Mr. Schue told me I had the highest falsetto voice out of all the guys, Mr. Jones? I could probably break _glass_ if I sing loud enough. Should come in handy someday, d-don't you think? If I were ever in trouble or anything." Mr. Jones pulled out his set of knives and serving utensils, holding the sharp edge of the butcher knife up to the light. "I bet my parents could hear me from here, behind this thick glass! You remember my parents don't you, Mr. Jones? Fine people….._caring, loving parents….._love you like a _brother_…need their _eldest son alive_…"

"Relax son, I'm not out here to kill you." Mr. Jones said simply, using the sharp knife in his hand to chop through a larger cut of beef before throwing the two chunks next to the first. "Come here."

Sam walked forward, a bit less hesitant than before. Mr. Jones handed Sam a smaller version of his barbeque fork from his collection. "Lay some more meat on the grill, Son."

Sam appeared puzzled at the request, but he silently obeyed, laying two more steaks and several cuts of chicken next to the others. "Are we still talking, Mr. Jones? Or are we doing this instead?"

"You wanted a man to man talk, didn't you son?" Sam nodded, watching the older man flip over some darkened pieces of meat and sprinkle it with his mix of seasonings. "Well, welcome to the male communication center, otherwise known as the barbeque grill. Generations of men have spilled their guts, gossiped about their wives, and shared a fond moment or two of brotherhood around this ol' stove. And women might tell you that it is just the same as broiling dinner in the kitchen, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. This…" he tapped the hood of the grill with his fork. "…is _man cooking._"

"I don't follow, Sir."

Mr. Jones wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pointing out the meat Sam needed to flip, before he continued. "What I mean, son, is anything you say out here will stay out here. No judgement, no backlash, just God honest truth from one guy to another. Since the topic of conversation involves my daughter and your…physical relationship," he grimaced and shook his head, like the very thought caused him physical pain, "I wanted to give you a fair ear on neutral ground to say what you need to. You know, considering what you kids have been through."

"I appreciate that, Mr. Jones," Sam said as he politely half-smiled.

"Please Sam, out here we're just guys. Feel free to call me Joe." Mr. Jones offered with an assuring smile. "_Only _out here, though."

"Okay!..._Joe_" Sam's mouth puckered at the peculiar sound of Mr. Jones first name rolling off his tongue. "Well, as you know, Mercedes and I just got back together. And…"

"Ah, my boy." Mr. Jones patted his shoulder, stopping him before he could continue. "Please, while we're on the subject of my daughter, refrain from using her name. It brings up to many fatherly urges to kill you where you stand." He laughed menacingly.

Sam's eyes widened at the thinly veiled threat. "Oh." He wracked his brain for a quick alternative. "Well, as you know, my _girlfriend_ and me." Mr. Jones nodded in approval. "We just got back together yesterday, after that terrible fight we had. After all the things I said to her, she still found it in her heart to forgive me and give us the chance to talk things through. Now, after our conversation, I really feel like our relationship is stronger than ever."

"So what's the problem, son?" asked Mr. Jones, flipping and seasoning the last of the meat before closing the hood and pulling up a deck chair to sit.

Sam followed, pulling up a chair for himself to sit across from his advisor. "The problem is I'm scared I'll screw it up somehow! Everything is so different and new between us. It feels like we've just started dating all over again, except my hands are even sweatier than before and I'm not nearly as confident!" Mr. Jones offered a sympathetic smile when Sam's face fell into his palms. "So much has changed, you know?" he sighed through his fingers.

"But isn't she the same girl you loved before all this? That hasn't changed at all."

Sam's head shook vehemently, his face contorted in confusion. "That's the thing! She's not the same girl from summer. I'm not the same guy! The attack shook us and altered us in surprising ways. She's not the same Merce-" Mr. Jones shot him a look. "I mean, not the same _girlfriend _I fell in love with."

Mr. Jones whipped off his glasses, furrowing his brow as he tapped the earpiece against his lips. "So this one event made you into two totally different people? I find that rather hard to believe, Samuel." Right away, his voice shifted to professional mode. "Traumatic experiences like yours and your girlfriend's can have some serious, life altering repercussions. And yes, I won't dispute the fact that it does bring out some drastic personality changes in people. But, you never truly lose who you are inherently, Sam. The original you is still inside there somewhere. That goes for her as well. Don't make one life moment define the entire future of your relationship."

"It wasn't just one moment, Mr. Jones." Sam solemnly corrected. "I told you about the fight and the attack, but there were other things."

Mr. Jones groaned in his throat and leaned back, bracing himself for the onslaught of bad news. "I have a strong feeling I won't like hearing it."

Sam nodded. "Probably just as much as I won't like telling it. But it needs to be said. I can't solve anything by staying silent." He nervously nibbled his bottom lip, hesitant to continue. What he had to say would, in any other place and time, guarantee a quick and sudden death. "We are still on neutral ground, aren't we?"

Mr. Jones released a long suffering moan as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he closed his eyes and gave a curt nod, silently offering his consent.

"Well…._Joe._" Sam clapped his hands together and laced his fingers, leaning forward to lean his chin on his knuckles. "After the attack, I brought my girlfriend home and walked her in. We were both still really shaken up about it and really needed more than ever to be close. I tried hugging her and reassuring her, but it wasn't enough. The grief was too strong." Sam's green eyes met Mr. Jones's brown pair, paler and laced with guilt. "We got closer, Mr. Jones."

The father's sharp brow made his stomach knot and quiver. "How _much _closer, Samuel?" his deep voice bellowed.

Sam looked away in shame. "Much too close," he whispered, glassy eyed from the horrid memory of their strained love-making. "After that, I felt like I broke something in her. Her eyes were so vacant, so empty, like she was staring right through me." He cleared away the tightness in his throat and continued. "We talked and cried, apologized, until we fell asleep and let the day pass us. But it never left me." He braved a look in Mr. Jones direction and watched the array of emotions pass over his face. "That's when I knew I had to call you guys."

"Where we found you…..in her bedroom." Sam frowned at his tone but nodded in confirmation. To his credit, Mr. Jones made the grandest effort to reign in his emotions and be there for his daughter's boyfriend. After all, she loved him, and from a fatherly standpoint Sam was a genuine young man with honest motives. Their conversation at that very moment was a testament to his courage and the heart he had for his little girl.

"I understand, Sam." Mr. Jones replied genuinely, despite the reluctance in his tone. "Go on."

"It happened again a couple of weeks afterward. We kissed and…I got a little carried away and we went farther than we should have" he admitted, quickly adding, "But I caught myself and stopped us before we got _close_ again. Nothing happened that time."

"I see." Mr. Jones frowned. "But I still don't understand the problem, son. Each time, it seems like you've both set yourselves straight and made fervent efforts to move on. You've handled each situation the best way two teenagers knew how, in some cases even better than most adults, and asked for help when you needed it. And you're still going strong after all of it, surviving what most couples couldn't withstand for two days, let alone months. Why the doubt? What aren't you saying?"

"All this time, we've been fighting these monsters together; throwing every weapon we have to beat it until we knock it down and find the strength to continue on." Sam couldn't help the steady stream of tears flowing down his cheeks. "But it's like every time we finally get strong, we move on and find another monster even bigger and stronger than the last one."

"That's life and love, son! You'll always have monsters to face! The important thing is that you hang in there and stick by her to fight them together!" Mr. Jones passionately exclaimed, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She needs your support."

"But that's the thing!" cried Sam, wiping the tears from his reddened cheeks. "What if I can't help her at all? What if we encounter one stronger than either of us can handle and I fail her again?"

"There's no foreseeing the future, Sam! There are no guarantees! You may fail, you may stumble and break, but failure does not equate to defeat! And if you spend all of your life on the "what ifs", you'll miss all the "what could be" opportunities right in front of you. You have fight in your spirit, Sam! There's absolutely nothing that can beat you, beat your relationship, if you refuse to let it!" Mr. Jones strongly believed that. He saw so much of himself and more in Samuel. Sam was twice the young man he was at that age.

"But what if _I'm the one in our way_?" sobbed Sam. "What if I'm the reason we stumble in the first place? What if I'm the one that makes her scared or gives her nightmares or touches her wrong? What if I'm…" His chin trembled under the force of his pressed lips, thin and white as sheet. "What if _I'm _the monster?" he whispered.

Mr. Jones eyes widened twice its size in shock. "My boy…." It had finally come out, the very thing Sam wanted to say but refused to. It had finally wormed its way out of his conscience.

"You didn't see her eyes after he hurt her, Mr. Jones! You don't understand!" Sam sprung up and pushed the chair from underneath him, turning away from Mr. Jones with angry hands pulling at his hair. "He took her away that day. She was _gone. _Just a shell standing next to his truck in tattered clothes and bruises. I gave everything I had trying to fight to get her back. I fought to rip her spirit back from him, but no matter how much I kicked and punched him, he still had that _moment _over us. There was no way to escape it!"

"Samuel…"

"And then, selfishly, I manipulate that shell, try to caress her and love her so _I _could escape, so she could feel real to _me_ again! Instead of helping her, I kissed her and pressed her body against mine, clinging to the hope that maybe something familiar could make sense of something foreign!"

"Samuel, calm down…" Mr. Jones stood from his chair, reaching for him, but Sam flinched from his touch and doubled forward.

"And then she _looked _at me! She…" The pang in his heart stole his words. He beat his chest, trying to pound away the emotional pain with the physical, but it still hurt him worse than anything he'd ever felt. "There was nothing! She stared at me like she didn't know who I was, like I was foreign to her! _I _didn't know who I was! I preyed on her! I took advantage like Donovan! I _assaulted her like Donovan _and had the nerve to kiss her tenderly through all of it. Am I worse than him? For loving her while I hurt her? Oh god….." He collapsed against the wooden columns of the deck. "I'd rather die than hurt her like that! I swear it, Mr. Jones!" wept Sam. "I could never…."

"_Exactly, Sam!_ You could never because you _would _never because you're not like him!" Mr. Jones told him, shaking him by the shoulders. "Listen to me, son. You are not a monster. You never were and you never will be! You are better than him, you understand. Don't ever, ever compare yourself to scum like Donovan again."

"I don't want to hurt her again, Mr. Jones. I can't hurt her again. I want to be a great man for her, for us, but I don't know if I really can. I've failed so much already….." He wiped his dripping nose in his sleeve. "How do you win if all you've ever done is lose in life?"

"Sam, let me ask you a question. Do you view your relationship with my daughter as a failure? Meeting her and dating her?"

"No, of course not." Sam answered without hesitation. "She's the best thing to ever happen to me."

"What about your father and his move to Kentucky? He struggled for months finding a steady job. He couldn't support his family and had to rely on you to bring money in when funds were low. Do you think he's a failure?"

Sam frowned, sniffling. "No, sir. He worked hard those months, harder than he's ever worked. He found whatever jobs he could to take care of us, even jobs with long hours and little pay. He moved us to Kentucky for opportunity, and eventually he found it."

"What about your move back to Ohio? You came back here with nothing but dreams of winning my daughter back, but it took you months of endless struggle. Then, when she's finally available, she makes you wait until she was ready to fully commit. Were all those months a failure?"

"No, sir. I got her back." He sat up a bit straighter. "She was worth the wait. I'd do it all over again."

Mr. Jones smiled at his answer. "And were any of those situations clouded by doubt? By what ifs and possibilities of disappointment?"

"Yes, sir?" Sam answered.

"So why pursue it? Why follow through?"

"We followed through because we held onto the hope that we would succeed. We believed in what we were chasing."

"_Exactly, _son." Mr. Jones grinned. "You believed in the potential for success. As a man, you're going to be faced with situations that will challenge that faith and cost you and your family greatly. It may be a new job in a strange place, or a loss of income, or a moment in your marriage that has you contemplating divorce. On those days, you are going to have to use wisdom and faith to make the right decisions. Wisdom to realize when you need to humble yourself and seek help and faith to remind you that the God you serve governs you and your home. You're not alone. He is always with you and will cover any areas where you fall short. And he did _not_ create you with a spirit of fear. He's equipped you with power beyond measure, a heart that loves after his own heart and a soundness of mind to give you peace and clarity in the midst of any storm. Whenever and wherever there's doubt son, you fight it back with a faith beyond human comprehension. You don't have to see it in front of you for it to be true. Believe in the man you want to become. Believe in the destiny God has set for you and my daughter. Believe in your ability to love without hurting. You can be and do all of those things, Samuel." He nodded. "Have _Faith._"

**O-O**

"Hey Mama!"

Mercedes came bouncing down the stairs in her lounge wear, renewed and refreshed from her recent shower. Her hair was pulled back into a side, loose curling ponytail with fringes of bang swirling and sticking across her damp forehead, still a bit wet from her speedy face washing. Mrs. Jones could tell it was a rush job. When her daughter kissed her on the cheek and she returned it, a faint hint of soap glossed her lips and left a queer acrid taste on her tongue.

"Hey, baby girl. You in a hurry to go somewhere?" Mrs. Jones asked with a pinched face, rubbing the soap off her lips as she wiped the light soapy film from her daughter's cheekbone.

"Oh, do I still have soap on my face?" Mercedes grabbed a few sheets of paper towels from the roll on the kitchen counter beside the sink. She got it damp, and vigorously wiped and dried her face. "Is it all gone?"

"Come, let me see." Patrice dropped the tomatoes she was washing into the bowl in the sink and grabbed her chin, swiveling her face back and forth for any traces of remaining soap or paper towel residue. "Nope, none that I can see." She bopped her nose with a smile. "Just perfect."

Mercedes's nose wrinkled adorably under her mother's touch. "Mommy, so unnecessary!" She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Where's Sam?"

Mrs. Jones nodded. "Uh huh! So _that's _why you're rushing! No time for mommy anymore, huh? You know I remember a time when you used to jump all over the place tryna get to me when I got home. But now, I barely get a kiss on the cheek before you flounce off to the boyfriend. Life's funny, huh?" she teased, shaking her head as she dried the assortment of vegetables in her bowl and began slicing.

"Aww, mommy, you know I still got love for you." Mercedes teased back, wiggling her nose against her mother's cheek.

"No, no, it's fine!" Mrs. Jones waved her off melodramatically. "Forget all about me. Go on and grow up and leave your shriveled, aging mother in the dust! I'll probably be stuck in some nursing home surrounded by my many cats, telling _them _how my children left me to die alone…" She covered her eyes with her hands, giving a dramatic sigh. "All I did was give you _life, after all!" _ She dramatically squeaked, sounding on the verge of tears.

Mercedes giggled at her mother's antics. "Momma, I would never do that! Besides, you still have daddy. You wouldn't be alone!"

"Oh, you're gonna leave me with _that _old fool?" she scoffed in her normal voice, resuming her chopping.

"Well, you did marry that old fool and stay with him for over twenty years, so there must be _something _you like about him!" Mercedes laughed, pressing another kiss to her mother's cheek.

"Yeah, yeah. He's okay sometimes." She shrugged, doing little to hide the grin that said otherwise.

"Where is daddy, anyway? Downstairs?" Mercedes glanced over at the basement door. "But pop and Mama Vic are in the living room watching movies." She gave a confused frown. Usually their parents traveled together in packs.

Mrs. Jones chuckled as she smoothed the wrinkles on her daughter's forehead. "I know, they usually travel in packs, right?" she said, voicing her very thoughts. She gave a slight nod to the window in front of her, gesturing to the deck. "He's outside talking to Sam."

Mercedes expression turned to horror. "About _what?_"

"Darned if I know." She shrugged nonchalantly, eyes focused on her chopping. "All he said was he and Sam needed to talk _man-to-man_, so you know it's serious." She nudged Mercedes with her elbow, snorting a laugh. "And get this, they're both _grilling."_

"And you _let _him, Momma?!" She hurried to the sliding door, looking for any signs of her boyfriend's body. Seeing no signs of violence, she turned and narrowed her eyes at her mother. "Daddy never lets anyone touch his grill, not even me! Weren't you suspicious?"

"Of course." She looked up and rolled her eyes at her daughter. "And stop looking at me like I'm Judas. I wouldn't let your father hurt him. Don't worry. I GOT THIS! Why do you think I'm standing here cutting up vegetables? I kept an eye on them."

"So where are they? I don't see them."

"They're out there." Mrs. Jones mysteriously answered. Before Mercedes could inquire further, she saw her father and boyfriend rise up from behind the deck table. They appeared to have been crouching. Mercedes was relieved to see that they were civil, with Mr. Jones patting Sam's back and pulling him in for a manly hug, but her heart hurt when she saw Sam's reddened cheeks and pitiful expression. When he reached up to wipe his face, she realized he had been crying.

"I see them." Mercedes said softly, watching Sam nod at something her father was saying to him. She nibbled her lip, debating whether or not she should go out there. When she saw Sam break down on her father's shoulder, her hands and feet made the decision for her.

"I'm going out there." She declared, pulling up the lock on the door. Her mother grabbed her shoulder before she could slide it open.

"No, you're not. You're gonna leave him and let them work it out." Mother stood behind daughter and watched their men talk and comfort each other.

"I know what they're talking about." Mercedes whispered to her. "It's about me."

"And what makes you say that, bug? They could be talking about everything and anything."

"It's about me, I know it." She turned her face to her mom. "It's about us. I said something this morning, and Sam's been distracted ever since. Maybe I shouldn't have?"

Mrs. Jones smiled at her daughter's innocence, kissing her frowning forehead. "Oh, you have so much to learn, young blood." She laughed. "C'mere and help me finish chopping."

Mercedes watched her mother walk to the sink and reluctantly followed behind her, frown deepening when she handed her a green pepper and knife.

"I told him I had doubts about us, Momma," she said quickly, cutting her vegetable into thin slices. "We were doing so well. This morning was absolutely perfect. Should I have just kept it to myself?"

"There's nothing wrong with that. We raised you to say what's on your mind. Pure honesty is important for any relationship, even if it's not what you think your partner wants to hear. Pass the onions." Mercedes handed her mother an onion off the counter and grabbed one of her own to chop, blinking rapidly at the sudden onslaught of fumes.

"I don't know. It's like I feel like everything we say and do is sensitive all of a sudden. Like I have to be careful of what I say and when I say it. We're starting over and that's wonderful, but sometimes I worry that it might be too difficult for us. I mean, he'd rather talk to my father, the human boyfriend destroyer, than me. We used to tell each other everything." She cast another glance out to the deck, feeling even more hopeless when she saw them laugh and talk together. "Can we go back to that?"

Mrs. Jones snorting chuckle brought her back. "Honey, telling each other everything is beautiful and wonderful….in theory. In reality, all that fades. When you get married, you'll be lucky if you wake up and recognize the person next to you, let alone know all of their _innermost secrets_!" She chuckled again, using air quotes.

"I'm sorry?" asked Mercedes, shocked that her mother would say such a thing. "But, you and daddy talk all the time!"

"Oh, we do, honey! I never said we don't talk. The communication doesn't end, and it never should. Lack of communication is a quick road to destruction, believe me. I tried tellin' your brother that when he started dating that Columbian girl…Tricia or Taquanita or something or other…."

"It's _Talia,_ mother." Mercedes responded, giving the girl's name the necessary Spanish emphasis. "And they couldn't even speak the same _language_, let alone properly communicate. It's not the same."

"You're right, it's not the same. You and Sam have something real, something that has the potential to last far longer that you think it can." She halted her slicing and cupped her daughter's cheeks, meeting her wondering eyes. "But if you want to move forward, you're going to have to leave that infatuation puppy-love phase behind."

Mercedes glanced down at the hands on her cheeks, then back to her mother's face. "I still don't understand."

"You see your father out there, grilling all that meat? Every time he goes out there, he burns every last piece to char and ash. Those steaks would turn blacker than the back of Flava Flav's neck!" Mercedes shook with laughter under her touch. Mrs. Jones smoothed her hands over her shoulders. "And we probably lose tons of money with all the food wasted, but I don't care. I still let him go out there and do his thing."

"I've always wondered why you let daddy burn the food." Mercedes said curiously. "How come?"

"See, your daddy takes that time to go out there and think, gather his thoughts and regroup. And no matter how much of a mess he makes out there on that grill, it is worth every penny of food lost and worn equipment." She went back to her chopping board, scraping all of her and Mercedes' sliced vegetables into a large plastic bowl. "You may not remember this, but when you and your brother were younger, your father and I got into a huge fight. It was so bad, that I thought it would ruin us forever. We didn't speak for weeks."

"Really?" Mercedes couldn't remember a time her parents were anything less than loving to each other. If they ever had any fights, they didn't last longer than a day. "What was it about?"

Mrs. Jones stilled and took a breath, drudging up a memory that appeared painful for her to recall. "Before we had you bug, I had several miscarriages. I had three pregnancies that didn't last longer than the first trimester. The doctors said there was nothing wrong with either of us, and we prayed for so long for another child but…it just didn't seem like it was in the cards for us." She shook her head at the memory their senseless arguments. "We both said such hateful things out of grief. It broke us in more ways than just the physical. After spending so much time not talking about it, it just exploded in one huge fight." She gave her daughter a knowing smirk. "Sound familiar?"

Mercedes' s eyes drifted to the side. "Vaguely," she muttered. "I didn't know you miscarried, Mother."

"I didn't find it necessary to bring up. Besides, after we were blessed with you, it seemed that all the pain had drifted away. We just put all the energy we took grievin' to invest our love in you. I don't regret that for a minute, though. You were worth every ounce of us, bug." Mrs. Jones smiled. "But heavy things like that can't stay silent for long. That's when your dad started grilling, after our fight."

"Why didn't you go after him? Make him come inside so you could talk about it?" asked Mercedes. "Isn't that what married people are supposed to do? Confront their issues?"

"Some things just don't have words, bug?" her mother told her, smoothing her knuckles against her baby girl's cheek. "It wasn't that we didn't want to talk, but sometimes it's just as important to give each other space as it is to spend time together."

Mercedes nodded in understanding, remembering the healing that came after her and Sam separated and sorted out their feelings. "But, did he ever talk to you about it afterward?"

Her mother nodded. "Yes, some of it. Some things I think he still kept to himself, or talked about with his guy friends. I knew that he would tell me what he needed to tell me when he was ready. And if he couldn't tell me, well…" she nudged Mercedes's chin with a smile. "As long as he worked it out, I didn't feel the need to Ike his Tina."

"Ike his Tina?"

"Pimp-slap him into submission, you know? Tell him what to say or how to deal with things. He had to figure it out on his own. I_ know_ the man I married and I believe that he can. That faith hasn't failed us yet."

Mercedes glanced out at her love on the deck, briefly meeting his eyes in a fleeting glance. His lopsided grin toward her pulled a faint smile from her own lips.

"But how do you know when to leave it alone and when to step in?" She asked, breaking her stare with Sam.

"You just know, bug." Her mother assured. "Trust what your heart and intuition tell you. You have to trust the man you gave your heart to. You will know when to seek counsel and resolve his feelings, whether with you or someone else..." Mrs. Jones laughed at the sight of her husband and Sam fanning the growing flames on the grill, using whatever utensil and cloth they had on hand to quell the flames. "…or _something _else, like a grill he doesn't know how to manage." Mercedes giggled alongside her mother, catching the sight. "You've chosen wisely, bug. You've got a great man there, standing by you through some really tough stuff. If you guys can make it through this, you can make it through_ anything_. But you've got to trust him, and trust yourself, to do the right thing when it comes to the health of your relationship. You don't have to _know _it all to figure out how to _solve_ it all and that's a token of wisdom no advice column will _ever _give you."

Mercedes smiled warmly, comforted by her mother's words. "Thanks, Mommy. I really needed to hear that."

"Anytime, porcupine!" Her mother teased, scrunching her nose when Mercedes pressed a sloppy, raspberry of a kiss on her cheek. "Ugh! Okay, too much love! Too much love!"

Mercedes laughed hysterically, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist from behind as she seasoned the vegetables. "You're the best woman I've ever known, Mom. " She snuggled against her back. "I'm so glad I have you."

Mrs. Jones reached back, wrapping her arms around her daughter's face to pat her head. "Not as glad as I am to have you, baby." She replied, patting the small hands resting on her stomach. "Now c'mon and let's go outside before your father burns the house down. I want to grill these up for Vicki and Mike to taste."

Before they could walk out the door, a charcoal-faced Sam and Mr. Jones stepped in with shell shocked faces, dangling the shreds of what appeared to be the remains of dinner in their blistered hands.

"Change of plans on the barbecue, Pat." coughed Mr. Jones, fanning the irritating debris from in front of him. "Something happened with the grill, again. I don't know why this keeps happening! I'm gonna need to pull out my tools and fix that thing again so we can actually cook something _edible!_"

"Demon grill….Demon, demon grill…." Sam muttered faintly, still in shock at the turn of events. He reached up, wide eyed, to pinch away a small flame lighting the tip of his bangs. When he saw Mercedes, he came around and offered a meek smile. "Pizza, anyone?"

Mercedes and Mrs. Jones gave each other twin knowing looks, smiling as Mercedes reached for the cordless behind her and dialed the pizza place from memory.

"Vicki? Mike?" Mrs. Jones called out to the living room. "How do you feel about _stir fried_ vegetables?"

**O-O**

After a quick meal of shrimp and vegetable stir fry with garlic sauce for the grown folks and half pepperoni-half sausage pizza for the veggie phobic teens, the entire clan settled in the living room with a scoop of mango sorbet and a viewing of _The Lion King 2._

Only Sam and Mercedes were the ones who were truly watching the movie. Everyone else had found a comfortable spot around the television and succumbed to sleep nearly ten minutes in, falling prey to the infamous _"itis" _that came with a full stomach and advanced age. Sam teasingly called it the bedtime formula for old people, lots of food and television.

"Oh, I love this part." Mercedes excitedly whispered against Sam's chest, finishing the last of her dessert as she watched the scene where wise-age Rafiki realizes the two young lions from different worlds were destined for love.

The real life star crossed couple watched on, enraptured with the scene as they snuggled together on the couch. The crumb laden plates and empty glasses were stacked on the coffee table in front of them, leaving their hands free to find each other and intertwine together, nestled in the small groove between them. With Sam's head atop Mercedes', his body curled with hers under the purple fleece blanket. One could mistake the scene for an intimate date night.

"Are you cray-zee!? This will neva work!"

Sam raised his head and looked down in surprise at his girlfriend, amused by her dead-on Rafiki impression, accent and all.

"And you call _me _the dork?" he teased in a low voice, conscious of the sleeping ears around them.

"Oh, like you don't know the entire movie front and back. Boy, please," she whispered back in defense, biting back her sheepish grin. "We've only watched this _a million times _over summer. Besides, you still quote _The Rugrats Movie _on a regular basis, so you are definitely still the dork in this relationship."

He scoffed in mock offense. "The Rugrats are classic!"

"So is Disney!"

"Touché, I'll give you that," he relented. After a pause, he whispered, "You're still a dork, though."

"Shut up," she whispered back, pealing a giggle when she caught him off guard with a couch cushion slap to the face. He swatted away the second attempt, shushing her with a laugh of his own. Both quietly gasped when it flew from her hands and bounced off her sleeping father's face, rolling down his body to knock over his empty dessert glass and spoon.

"Shit!" Both balked when the glass rolled dully across the wood floor and the spoon gave a rippling clang against the foot of the couch. Heads whipped around-Sam's to his right, Mercedes's to her left—to check for any signs of movement. Mr. Jones was surprisingly still snoring away beside Sam, resting comfortably against his fist as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Jones, the lighter sleeper of the group, was still asleep too; mouth agape as she rested on her forearm. And aside from Mrs. Evans light stir and stretch in her sleeping husband's lap, no one seemed fazed by the small commotion.

"Omigosh, that was so close!" Mercedes quietly declared, mirth dancing in her eyes when Sam huffed in relief. "If they woke up, I _so_ would've blamed you!"

"Not if I blamed you first!" he threatened back quietly, flicking her nose. She gasped and flicked him right back, twice along the bridge for good measure. Sam counteracted by tripling his, and soon the pair was engaged in a childish game of flick wars, scrunching and dodging oncoming hands while blindly reaching for their opponent's faces. Flicking quickly turned to hand swatting, slapping louder and louder until Sam caught her wrists and stilled her movements.

"Let go, you bully!" she giggled, struggling in his strong grip. He only smiled and pulled her closer, resting her forearms against his chest.

"Never! I'm never letting go." he whispered firmly, pressing his thumb gently against her pulse point and gliding to her palms.

Their gaze gradually lost its playfulness, just as the faint sounds of a fluted tune filled the living room. Mercedes recognized the song from the movie they were watching, vaguely remembering that it was one of her favorites, but she couldn't find it in her to leave his gaze to glance at the screen.

"You promise?" she asked vulnerably, just as the young love stricken lioness on screen began to sing.

_**In a perfect world**_

_**One we've never known**_

_**We would never need**_

_**To face the world alone**_

"Yes," he answered surely, just as vulnerable. "I couldn't leave you if I tried."

_**They can have the world**_

_**We'll create our own**_

"Part of me believes that with my whole heart, but sometimes….." she faltered, biting her lip as she thought of the right words. "Sometimes I worry that this is too much for us. Teenagers our age fall in love all the time, and it doesn't always last for them. Then, with everything we've been through…"

"Do you doubt it?" he asked, shifting anxiously in his seat as he waited for her answer.

_**And I may not be brave**_

_**Or strong or smart**_

"No." she answered after a long pause. "I couldn't doubt us if I tried. When we say I love you, it's honest."

_**But somewhere in my secret heart**_

_**I know**_

_**Love will find a way**_

"Then, why'd you ask me if I doubted us earlier? Did you think I had reservations about us? Because I don't. Not now, not ever, not once in my life. I'd still travel the world over to be with you, babe. That much hasn't changed."

She considered him fully, studying his set jaw and determined frown. "I don't doubt that either. I'd do the same. You're the only home that matters to me. I'd leave everything behind if you asked me to go with you."

"Not that I would ever ask," he said with a faint grin. "Your dad would jujitsu my ass."

Their bared teeth gleamed in the faint blue-green glow of the television as they laughed in the dark.

_**And everywhere we go**_

_**We're home**_

_**If you walk there beside me**_

"But that's the thing. I'd _never _hesitate. Is that normal?" She shook her head, hating the gnawing feeling in her stomach. "We're seventeen, Sam! I already know you're it for me, and I feel like I shouldn't yet. But I do, and I'm so sure, and that's what makes me question everything. I can't bear to lose you and it scares me."

"You're my world, Mercedes Jones," he told her. He didn't know why, but he felt led to tell her. "That's all I know. The what ifs don't matter to me."

"And you're mine." She sighed, succumbing to the joy of his declaration. She closed her eyes when he leaned in to nuzzle and kiss her cheek. "But there's more than us. There are more worlds than ours and they seem hell bent on destroying us with every power in them." By worlds, Sam knew she meant people, and by people, he knew she meant those that made existing difficult, like Donovan, Larry and Eddie.

"So we don't let them," he whispered against her skin, trailing his lips to her ear. "We don't let them destroy what we have. I have faith in our ability to fight back."

_**Like dark turning into day**_

_**Lave will see it through**_

_**Now that I've found you**_

_**Love will find a way**_

She rested fully against his temple. "I hate how sure you are about this," she half-joked, relaxing in the warmth of him.

"I wasn't always. In fact, I think I doubted and questioned more that you did. But I was afraid to say anything because I didn't want to scare you off." He leaned up and looked at her, thankful the darkness of the room masked his blush. "It's why I was talking to your dad earlier."

"Oh?" she said faintly, like their conversation hadn't been in the back of their mind. Her eyes drifted away from him as she sorted her conflicting thoughts. After her conversation with her mother, she decided to give Sam the opportunity to say what he needed to without the pressure of her questions. "Did it help you?"

Sam's emphatic nod pleased her. "More than you can imagine. I think it was exactly what I needed."

"Good. I'm glad you got help," she said with a kind smile. "My dad gives great advice."

"He does. I knew he'd be real with me. With what I wanted to talk about, I needed someone who wouldn't beat around the truth to spare my feelings. He understood that." Sam tucked away a stray curly sprig, letting his finger linger against the shell of her ear. "I think I'm a better man after our talk. It gave me confidence."

_**I was so afraid**_

_**Now I realize **_

_**Love is never wrong**_

_**So love, it never dies**_

"I'm proud of you for talking," Mercedes said honestly, fussing with the light brown stubble on his chin. "And I'm even more proud of you deciding to take care of _you_, not just for us, but for yourself."

The corners of his eyes crinkled merrily at her compliments. "Thanks, babe."

_**There's a perfect world**_

_**Shining in your eyes**_

Mercedes was a person who usually hated secrets. Her mother tried to plan a surprise party for her once when she was five, but the mystery made her so miserable that her mom relented and told her of their plans, just in time to dry her eyes and prepare her for her grand entrance. For her, knowing made everything safe. If she knew, there would be no unexpected pitfalls. She could prevent disaster before it struck.

But if life taught her anything, it's that disaster itself could be secret. It can sneak up on you in the happiest of times and surprise you with horrors you can never prepare for. There's no preparation, no mama to warn you about it in advance, no begging and pleading for clues. It just comes, and all you can do is deal with the aftermath.

_**And if only they could feel it too**_

Sam's presence had been an unexpected but welcome shock. And despite what they've been through, he always managed to find his way back to her and try to make it work. Even during the assault, when he could've run off and done nothing, he was the ideal support and strength she needed to fight. He'd never asked too many questions and gave her space to figure things out, even if it cost them the future of their relationship. Why couldn't she grant him the same courtesy? 

She resolved that she didn't need to ever know what Sam discussed with her father. As long as he got better, it would be enough for her. Some things just had to be dealt with individually, and if it meant seeking wisdom outside of their relationship, then she could handle it. Like her mother tried to explain, every relationship problem can't be cured with a loving heart to heart and tender kisses. Sometimes time apart is exactly what a relationship needs to stay strong.

_**The happiness I feel with you**_

_**They'd know**_

_**Love will find a way**_

"I know you won't ask, but I want to tell you," Sam's deep voice murmured, filling the sudden silence. "I was afraid I would hurt you physically, like he did. I worried that I would push too far and not be able to control myself. We've already gone there twice before, and it killed me to think that it could happen again."

Sam noted that Mercedes looked exactly like her father when she was surprised. "Really?"

He nodded, refusing to blink until he could see her reaction.

To her credit, Mercedes resisted her natural urge to coddle and comfort him. Instead, to his surprise and hers, she chuckled.

"Oh goodness, we were so blind." She laughed again, fuller and stronger than before. "I was afraid that you resented me for flinching every time you touched me. Lord." The thought sounded even more ridiculous when she voiced it aloud, especially after their talk. "I thought you went to my dad because you felt I was pushing you away."

"Really?" Sam sounded more surprised than she was. "Mercy, that's crazy! You know I understand that we can't rush into the physical stuff. I don't care if I have to wait forever, you know that."

"I do! That's what's so funny." She hunched over and leaned into his chest, shaking with silent laughter. "Just like you and I both know you could never hurt me the way Donovan hurt me."

Sam tightened at the mention of his name. "That's funny?"

"Yes!" she calmed to explain. "You just said you'd wait forever to touch me if you thought that it might scare me. You went to talk to my dad about our intimacy issues, which is like _asking _for a quick and sudden death, because you didn't want to burden me! How could you ever hurt me physically when you can't even find it in you to _hurt my feelings_?"

Sam blinked in thought, mulling it over, before joining her chuckle. "I didn't even think about it that way," he bashfully admitted. "We're so screwed up."

Mercedes nodded quickly, overwhelmed with giggles. "We're screwed up together at least. Could be worse."

_**And everywhere we go**_

_**We're home**_

_**If we are there together**_

_**Like dark turning into day**_

"Well, I'd rather be screwed up with you than sane with anyone else," he happily admitted, greeting her nose with a soft bop instead of a flick.

"And that's how I know we'll work." She smiled. "Because I wouldn't be content unless I was miserable with you."

"I think they commit people for that," Sam joked, earning him another swat from the couch cushion.

_**Somehow we'll come through**_

"I want to take you out every day, after school, until graduation. I meant what I said when I told you I want to earn this." He laced their fingers, kissing each of her magenta polished nails. "If we're gonna start over, I want us to start from scratch. I'm courtin' you again, darlin'." He said with a lopsided grin, tipping an imaginary cowboy hat on his head.

Mercedes grinned wider at his antics. "I'd love that. And at the end, if we feel like we're ready, we'll talk about….taking the next step. Agreed?"

Sam leaned in close, grinning just as wide as he whispered, "I can't wait."

Mercedes leaned in to seal the deal with a kiss, but Sam leaned back and shook his head in distaste.

"What?" she asked, amused and confused at his refusal.

"Kissing before the first date?! What kinda girl do you think I am, Ms. Jones?!" Sam rolled his eyes and gasped, exaggerating with a feminine swat to her shoulder.

"Dork!" she laughed, forgetting to remain quiet. Her mother's sleepy stirring reminded her and she covered her mouth to avoid any more laughter from escaping.

"Dork," she whispered, rolling her eyes at him for nearly getting her in trouble.

_**Now that I've found you**_

_**Love will find a way**_

"But hugs are still okay, right?" she innocently asked, hoping he said yes.

He pulled her into his embrace before she had time to doubt. "Always. Always hugs from you, Ms. Jones," he answered in his normal voice, kissing her forehead instead of her lips.

"Good." She wrapped the blanket tighter around them and refocused her attention to the screen. "I don't think I could live without that."

_**I know love will find a way**_

His cheek rested lovingly against the side of her head. "Me either."

And just as the lions on screen found their love and tumbled around in the grass, he felt Mercedes grip tighten around his waist and heard her whisper, "Just…don't let go, okay?"

And he answered the way he always had, if she ever had any doubt about his devotion to her. "I won't. I promise."

Just like all the times before, he meant it with everything in him. Only this time, he had pillars of faith and trust to back him.

**O-O**

Michael and Victoria Evans woke up around three Monday morning and prepared to head back to Kentucky. New jobs didn't allow them to take advantage of their days off just yet, but flexible hours did give them some extra time to leave and travel at their own pace.

It was a good thing, too. A mere two days wasn't enough for the families to catch up, and their departure kept on being delayed by incessant goodbyes and last minute conversations. By the time every last hug had been given, it was nearly seven in the morning, and time for the Sam and Mercedes to get ready for school. They saw his parents drive off with a wave goodbye and then ran to shower and change.

After a quick breakfast (and several shameless stops to flirt and toy with each other every chance they got), they arrived at McKinley with only minutes to spare before homeroom.

"Later?" Sam said in a rush, reluctant to let go of her hand as he left her at her locker.

She nodded, wiggling her fingers loose from his. "Later. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I can't wait for our first date after school!" She smiled at the term, realizing that it did feel like the first time all over again. It was all so new. "No hints for me?"

"Nope, it's all a surprise." He smiled, casting a quick glance at the hall clock. "Gotta go, babe. You're gonna love it, I'm sure of it."

"I'm sure I will." Though he was already late, Sam leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, biting his lip when he left her cheek to resist going for her lips. If he kissed her properly, he knew he'd miss all of first period.

Mercedes seemed to be fighting the same battle, because her eyes hadn't left his lips since he backed away to face her.

"I'll miss you." he whispered, low and deep so his breathy words wafted across her bottom lip.

"I love you," she whispered back, trembling at the touch of his fingers on her bare forearm.

With a final kiss to the cheek, he ran backwards down the hall, only breaking eye contact with her when he turned the corner.

"So I see all is well in the animal kingdom. You and little mermaid finally get back together?" asked a book laden Santana, shaking her head and smiling at the way her friend blissfully sank against her locker. "You know, _again?"_

"We did. On Saturday. It was amazing." Mercedes sighed happily, ignoring her friend's dig. "We're going out later today. Sam says it's like our first date all over again." She twirled around and opened her locker, bopping her head to some nameless tune as she took out her books.

"Great, awesome, wonderful, so happy for you. Listen can we talk?" Santana said plainly, tightening her grip around her chemistry book. She was glad her girl was happy, but when she had something pressing to talk about, especially something _emotionally _pressing, she had to discuss it right away before she lost her nerve.

"Sure! We just have to be quick. Homeroom's about to start." Thinking quickly, she added. "You know what? Walk with me. Our homerooms are next to each other anyway."

"Sure, okay." The girls slowly walked down the hall, one clearly more visibly perturbed than the other. Santana twirled her thick ponytail around her fingers, letting the ends curl, before releasing it to spring and bounce behind her. "So, Friday at the ice cream parlor. My eyes leaked a bit. I wanted to explain."

"Tana, you know you don't have to. It's wasn't an easy thing to share. I expected some extreme reactions." Mercedes comforted. "It was hard for me to tell you guys without crying myself."

"Yeah, but you know I'm not one for public displays of emotion, especially tears. I hate crying in front of people. I think Brittany's seen me cry three times, and that's already three too many." groaned Santana, frowning in distaste. "But when you told me about what happened to you….they weren't sad tears, they were angry ones."

"Angry about my attack?" Mercedes wondered aloud. When Santana winced at the word attack and she didn't, she realized that it was gradually becoming easier for her to talk about.

"Yeah. I didn't think stuff like that could happen to girls like us." She shrugged, elaborating. "You know, the strong, independent, take no BS girls who stick up for themselves. I thought our strength made us impermeable or something."

"It doesn't just happen to weak, damsel in distress types, Tana, contrary to the popular truth of scary movies." Mercedes jokingly explained, pulling a smile from the downtrodden Latina. "Big girls, short girls, muscular girls with biceps the size of our heads….we're all vulnerable to it."

"But it really sucks _ass_, you know?!" she exclaimed, nearly dropping her books when she moved to flail her arms. "Just because we have a vag, we have to live in fear for the rest of our lives? There's no stopping it."

Mercedes shrugged and smiled sadly. "We fight the best way we know how, babe. No one said anything about living in fear for the rest of your life. You learn to cope and protect yourself. You learn to deal, to love again, and to live again. Your strength doesn't go away, it just changes focus. My strength is in my ability to bounce back and reclaim the life that bastard tried to take from me."

Santana shook her head slowly, still dissatisfied. "It's still wrong that you have to fight to get it back in the first place. You don't understand chica. In my house, in my culture, the minute you're born female, you're destined to be victimized. My entire childhood I'm told that it's my responsibility to keep my man happy and keep myself beautiful to please him. They don't tell you what to do if he turns around and hits you or wants to sleep with your daughter. We just stay silent, like it's okay, like it's natural for him to want that. And if we don't give it to him, then it's our shame and our fault if he leaves. It's shame on the family to talk about anything else but happy things and perfect families."

Mercedes frowned, listening on, before stopping in her tracks. "Tana, wait. Have you? I mean…"

"No, not me. Some cousins and aunts. My abuela when she was little. It almost happened to me, though." Santana shrugged away the pain of the memory. "Tio Carlos got a little too handsy when he and my dad and his brothers were playing cards. I told my mom, but she told me to ignore it because he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing." She scoffed and rolled her eyes, refusing to meet Mercedes sympathetic stare. "I mean, since when did one corona make someone drunk enough to feel up their fourteen year old niece and get away with it scot-free? How come he gets excuses and I get a pat on the back telling me to "woman up and accept my burdens"? Being female should not be a burden. It just shouldn't."

"You're absolutely right, that was so wrong of them," Mercedes agreed, tightening her lips when she didn't know what else to say.

"Then when you came and told me, I just felt hopeless and alone." Their eyes met. "I thought we would make it out together. "

Mercedes smirked playfully to diffuse the tension. "Hey, we still can. I'm not dead or anything." Mercedes bumped her shoulder, throwing her step off kilter. Santana caught herself just before she hit the lockers, smiling as she righted her steps and bumped her back. "It'll just be different. You'll deal with before and I'll deal with after. With the two of us kicking ass together, the world won't know what hit 'em."

"Boss bitches, riding out in style." Santana nodded with a click of her tongue, falling back naturally into her old snarky routine. "I love it."

"And you know this!" Mercedes cheered, easing her hand through the loop of Santana's elbow to lock arms. "Now c'mon, boss bitch, you're gonna make me late."

They'd reached the doorway of Ms. Henderson's classroom, a minute before the late bell was supposed to ring. Santana's homeroom class was just a few lockers down, and the girls readied themselves to go their separate ways. But just as soon as they kissed cheeks and bumped fists, a loud cheer from a crowd of football jocks near them interrupted their goodbyes.

The girls frowned at the obnoxious sound. "Ugh, I hate jocks. They're all sweaty brutes with IQs of lab rats. They are such a waste of space."

"Yeah…a waste." Mercedes replied faintly, distracted by the sudden uproar. This time, when her stomach turned and clenched in apprehension, she didn't ignore it. "I wonder what they're cheering about."

"I don't know, probably something stupid." Santana shrugged, polishing her nails on her blouse. She did a double take at Mercedes's strange expression. "Honey, you okay?"

"YO, when'd you get back?! I thought they banned you from school for severe badassery?!" yelled one jock.

"His D.A. daddy probably got him off. Yo, if I had the hook-up like that, I'd be pullin' pranks out my ass!" laughed another, getting laughs from the crowd.

"And with a nice lil' reward, too! I saw that new Benz you pulled up in! What, daddy give you an early birthday present and slap on the wrist for good behavior?!"

"Something like that…" said the voice.

It was a voice Mercedes knew all too well. She froze in the spot, swallowing the bile in her throat as the crowd parted.

"He knew I didn't do shit, Chuck. Just some haters lyin' on me like usual. You know how these hoes can be." Donovan still looked as handsome and underhanded as the day in the parking lot.

Mercedes eyes widened fearfully, raising Santana's concern tenfold. "Honey, you okay? What's wrong?"

"Tana…." Mercedes whispered, trailing off. She couldn't finish her sentence, not until he met her eyes and confirmed that what she was seeing was real. She needed to be sure his presence wasn't some cruel figment of her imagination or manifestation of a nightmare.

"And you're eyes ain't fooling you, Ben. That was a new Benz outside. Chrome and black with custom red leather interior. I told pops I wouldn't settle for anything less. I need an incentive to finish school, right?" He propped himself up off the lockers and turned forward, just in time to meet Mercedes' terrified eyes watching him over Eddie's shoulder.

He sauntered through the space in the crowd, never losing eye contact. "Gotta go, fellas. Don't wanna be late my first day back." He grinned, sending a flirtatious wink her way. Santana frowned in confusion at the exchange, looking back and forth between them, but when Mercedes lip started to quiver and he puckered his lips to blow her an air kiss, she knew exactly who the fucker was.

"Hey, you gotta give me a ride in that new car, Don! I heard the drive in that model is buttahs!" called a black jock in the crowd behind him, slapping his shoulder as he entered homeroom. Donovan nodded in agreement, accepting shoulder pats from all his crew as they followed behind and went to class, just as the late bell rang. Only Larry and Eddie stayed behind him, waiting for him to move.

"It is, Ricky!" He yelled to his jock buddy, leaning against the doorframe as he continued to meet her stare. The only space between them was the narrow doorway.

"Lovely ride that Mercedes is." he said lowly, grinning like a Cheshire cat. With one last wink to her and a red faced, irate Santana, he crossed the threshold into class with his goonies behind him.

**O-O**

**AHH! I know! Wait until you read NEXT chapter!**

**Reviews, por favor! **


	20. Chapter 19 Trust

**A/N: A HUGE shout out to Mama Jill, my wonderful beta who edited this long chapter when she wasn't feeling well. I LOVE YOU! **

**And I also wish to thank all of my readers who've stuck with me this far and to the new readers that decided to give this story a chance. I still can't believe this little one shot became a twenty chapter story! **

**Lastly, I realized that I've never given you guys a face claim for Donovan or Erin. It was a bit difficult to place them, because there weren't any actors that came to mind when I envisioned them. The closest I could find for Erin would be Karen Gillian of Doctor Who fame (only with blue contacts, freckles, and goth-ed out hair and makeup for the part) and Ryan Merriman as Donovan (who's grown, sexy, and plays evil so well.) I hope that gives you a better idea of what they look like. If you don't want to mess up your head canon idea of what they look like, totally ignore this. If it helps you to have a real face to a character though, look them up! **

**Love you guys! And enjoy the chapter!**

**O-O**

"Would anyone care to tell me what in the name of Charlie Sheen's love child is going on here?!"

Approximately three minutes and fifty-two seconds after the homeroom late bell, Ms. Henderson walked into Figgin's office with a shaken Mercedes, an angry Santana, and a bloody nosed Donovan.

"I caught these three fighting in my homeroom and I won't allow it!" the elderly woman yelled, nudging up her glasses. "Now these three are your responsibility. I leave them in your _oh-so-capable _hands." She rolled her eyes at her own sarcasm as she left the room, mumbling under her breath, "They don't pay me enough for these shenanigans."

When the door closed behind her, all three teenagers looked to the stern and upset principal.

"First of all," he said in a low weary voice, "why are you here, Donovan? I don't remember your return being approved by the school board."

"Dad said he spoke to the superintendent and handled everything. Didn't he tell you?" he asked, moving his bloodied tissue and scrunching his face to work the kinks out of his injured nose. "You can call and ask him. I'm sure he won't mind. His busy job as a district judge doesn't stop him from making time for me."

Santana cut her eyes at his obvious title-dropping. "Did your judge daddy forget to teach you how to keep your hands to yourself? Or does molesting teenage girls make him proud?"

"You shut up, bitch, you have no idea what you're talking about." Santana lunged for him, fist raised to knock him right in his injured nose. Donovan jumped back, just before Mercedes' pull of her arm could stop her from reaching his face.

"ENOUGH!" yelled Figgins, stopping the fight before it escalated. "Now, I fully intend to call your father, young man. He had no right to allow you to come back to McKinley without my consent. But for now, I wish to address the incident in homeroom." The principal took a calming, cleansing breath and folded his hands under his chin. "Now someone, calmly and rationally, tell me what happened."

"He's a freaking psycho rapist freak, that's what happened!"

"She just lunged at me and clocked me out of nowhere for no reason!"

The two yelled their explanations at the same time, raising their voices several octaves in a battle to speak over the other. Realizing none of their words were discernible, and their voices were only getting louder and more annoying, Figgins grabbed his stress ball and squeezed repeatedly until the noise was too much to handle.

"ENOUGH!" he screamed again, quieting the arguing teens. Donovan and Santana stared each other down with dirty looks, but said nothing more. Figgins rang his secretary, Angela, in the adjoining room and asked her to call Donovan's father to the school as soon as possible.

After making the call and reportingthat he was on his way, Figgins looked to the only quiet one in the room, preoccupied with her private thoughts, and asked, "Ms. Jones? Would you care to share your view of what happened?"

Her eyes flicked up from their focus on the floor. "Me?" Figgins nodded. She turned her face to Santana, who looked ready for murder with her arms folded and cold glare to the far wall, and Donovan, who met her stare and squinted intimidatingly in her direction.

"I…um…" she lost her nerve, meeting his gaze. "I don't know if I remember what happened." Her gaze fell in shame, missing Donovan's victorious smirk.

"Of course you do, chica" Santana insisted gently. "Don't make this asshole chicken you out of it!"

"Yeah, Mercedes." Donovan chimed in, smile growing. "Tell the truth. Tell Figgins what _really_ happened, baby."

Santana whipped around, smacking him hard across his cheek. "Don't you dare call her baby, you prick! After what you did to her?!"

"Do you see this?! She's insane!" Donovan exclaimed as he pointed at the crazed Latina, holding his sore cheek.

"No one except Ms. Jones talks from here on or both of you will be sentenced to detention indefinitely for violent behavior!" Figgins bellowed, slamming his fist on the desk. The startling sound jolted Mercedes and brought her focus back to the principal.

"Ms. Jones" he repeated in a calmer tone. "Whatever you remember, I'd love to hear it. It might give us some objective clarity on the situation."

Her eyes drifted to the side, but Figgins urged her focus back to him with a come hither motion of his fingers. "Tell _me_, Ms. Jones. I'm all ears."

She nodded and closed her eyes, trying to recall the series of events exactly as they'd happened. "Santana and I were standing in the hallway on our way to homeroom, making it just before the late bell rung. We would have been seated on time, but I stopped in the middle of the hallway when I saw Donovan back in school, and Santana got worried when she saw my face….."

_**Less than five minutes earlier….**_

"_He knew I didn't do shit, Chuck. Just some haters lyin' on me like usual. You know how these hoes can be." Donovan still looked as handsome and underhanded as the day in the parking lot. _

_Mercedes eyes widened fearfully, raising Santana's concern tenfold. "Honey, you okay? What's wrong?" _

"_Tana…." Mercedes whispered, trailing off. She couldn't finish her sentence, not until he met her eyes and confirmed that what she was seeing was real. She needed to be sure his presence wasn't some cruel figment of her imagination or manifestation of a nightmare. _

"_And you're eyes ain't fooling you, Ben. That was a new Benz outside. Chrome and black with custom red leather interior. I told pops I wouldn't settle for anything less. I need an incentive to finish school, right?" He propped himself up off the lockers and turned forward, just in time to meet Mercedes' terrified eyes watching him over Eddie's shoulder._

_He sauntered through the space in the crowd, never losing eye contact. "Gotta go, fellas. Don't wanna be late my first day back." He grinned, sending a flirtatious wink her way. Santana frowned in confusion at the exchange, looking back and forth between them, but when Mercedes lip started to quiver and he puckered his lips to blow her an air kiss, she knew exactly who the fucker was. _

"_Hey, you gotta give me a ride in that new car, Don! I heard the drive in that model is buttahs!" called a black jock in the crowd behind him, slapping his shoulder as he entered homeroom. Donovan nodded in agreement, accepting shoulder pats from all his crew as they followed behind and went to class, just as the late bell rang. Only Larry and Eddie stayed behind him, waiting for him to move. _

"_It is, Ricky!" he yelled to his jock buddy, leaning against the doorframe as he continued to meet her stare. The only space between them was the narrow doorway. _

"_Lovely ride, that Mercedes is." he said slyly, grinning like a Cheshire cat. With one last wink to her and a red faced, irate Santana, he crossed the threshold into class with his goonies behind him._

_Both of their breaths quickened as he left their presence, one from anxiety and the other from rage. _

"_Say it." Santana demanded coolly, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides._

"_What?" asked Mercedes in a faint, distracted voice. Her eyes were still trained on the laughing, smiling jock of her nightmares as he sat in his assigned seat. _

"_Say that he's the guy. Tell me that Donovan, the snarky, pompous jock is the one that attacked you." _

_Mercedes slowly nodded, but Santana's look told her that her silent confirmation wasn't enough._

"_It was him," she said quietly, uncomfortably shuffling her feet. As soon as the confirmation left her lips, Santana stormed in the classroom, cornering Donovan and his crew before Mercedes got the chance to yell, "Don't!"_

_Donovan smiled at the slender, attractive woman's presence in front of him. Santana greeted his smile with one of her own, though more had more of a sarcastic scowl than his. _

"_Well, I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I usually know all the pretty cheerleaders at McKinley and make a point to introduce myself personally." He flirted, eyeing her red and white pleated curves lustfully. He reached for her hand, kissing her knuckle. "My name's Donovan, beautiful. And judging from the looks of you, I believe you just might be the death of me."_

_Santana smiled with fake sweetness as he kissed her hand, observing him with squinted eyes and a tilt of her head. "Oh, that's exactly the idea." she said smoothly. Donovan only had a second to process her lips tightening into an angry grimace and frown in confusion before she clocked him square in the jaw and knocked him clear out of his chair and into a set of empty desks. She got in two more good punches before Larry and Eddie lifted her from their friend's fallen body and held her flailing in the air. _

"_Let me go you assholes! He's getting his, Lima Heights Adjacent style!" Mercedes stepped in and shoved herself between the two boys, pulling her friend from their grasp. Santana felt her friend's gentle, calming touch on her arm, but she couldn't find it in her to simmer down. _

"_No, better yet, I'ma take it way back for your ass! I'm gonna serve you an authentic, Puerto Rican, straight from el platanos campos, fresh off the boat whaling to rearrange your face!" _

_Santana squirmed out of Mercedes's grasp and fulfilled her promise, pimp slapping him right into the metal base of the desk just before he could get to his feet and the teacher could reach in to intervene. Even when they grabbed her, Santana used their arms as leverage to swing her feet and double kick him under the jaw and on the side of his nose, cracking the bone._

"And that's what I remember. Donovan's nose started bleeding and Ms. Henderson brought us all in here for fighting." Mercedes answered honestly. She moved closer to Santana's side, grabbing her hand in support. "She was just trying to defend me, Sir."

"From what? I've done absolutely nothing since I've gotten here!"

"Yeah, nothing but terrorize, you psycho jerk!" Santana lashed back, eyeing him up and down like he was the worst scum she'd ever seen.

"You know nothing. Mercedes and I have a history." He shoved Santana to the side, moving to stand in front of Mercedes. "Tell her, Mercedes. Tell her I always say hi to you every morning in homeroom. Tell her how you always pass by my desk and say hi back, before all this mess happened."

"What?" she asked confused, reading his face.

"You don't remember? Every morning, you'd come through the back door and walk down the middle of the aisle. I'd always sit in the back right near the middle just to say hi to you. And when you said hi back, you'd smile and wave at me."

"When did we do this?" she said in a small voice, suddenly feeling tiny and vulnerable with him so close. She crossed her arms across her chest to keep some distance between them.

"Hey, don't push up on her, freak." Santana stepped between them, using her body as a barrier. "Mercedes don't listen to him. He's obviously delusional." she said.

Donovan waved Santana off, willing Mercedes to remember with his eyes. "Think about it, Mercedes. We always say hi. I always wink at you. It's normal."

_Had he? Had they? _Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she remembered a voice in the crowd shouting a hello her way, but she'd always be too distracted with last minute assignments or texts on her phone to study where they'd come from. But his words made the images and memories clearer, and it frightened her when she realized that he was telling the truth. Sure enough, it was his face she saw, winking and smiling as she passed. She remembered because he was the only jock in the crowd that made a point to call her by name and address her politely, not as "fat chick" or "glee nerd". At the time, she thought he was…nice-handsome, even. She almost threw up when her subconscious reminded her that she had once briefly considered him before she was with Shane. The very core of her quaked with anxious energy.

"Oh god." She stepped back several steps, staring at him like his presence suddenly made sense. "I _knew_ you?"

He grinned at her confession. "Is that what we're calling it now? Most people call it flirting."

"You son of a-"

"That is enough from all of you!" Figgins wagged a stern finger in Santana's direction. "And you better not finish that profanity if you don't want to spend the rest of the day in my office, Ms. Lopez."

Santana rolled her eyes and plopped herself in one of his office chairs. "Figures," she mumbled, popping in a stick of gum to keep her mouth preoccupied. With all the violence on her record, she couldn't afford to say anything stupid.

"Son, don't you dare say anything else. I'm here now," Judge Martin McMann said. He was better known as "I Can" McMann to clients and colleagues for his inability to turn down or lose a case. He looked every bit as handsome and suave as he did in his commercials. With his slick hair and round lenses, he looked like a young, professional version of Martin Sheen. He entered the room with a confidence that belied arrogance, but exuded a superiority that made one take notice. His eyes held delightful crinkles in the corners that looked well used from years of smiling, but as he looked around the room and analyzed each person, Mercedes realized they could have easily formed from twenty plus years of intimidating his opponent in the courtroom. And when father stood next to son, it was clear that Donovan had adopted his style and studied roaming of the eyes.

"I told you to call me if there were any misunderstandings. And what happened to your face?" Judge McMann asked his son, shifting his face different angles to inspect his injuries.

"I'm fine, Dad." He swatted away his father's hand, straightening his shoulders in the older man's presence. "Just another misunderstanding."

The judge followed Donovan's heated gaze to the Latina sitting behind him and the shorter, plump girl standing close by.

"I don't believe we've met, but I'm Judge Martin McMann, better known as "I Can" McMann to friends. And I'd love to be your friend, young lady. May I have the pleasure of your name?" He asked Santana in a gentle, patronizing voice.

Her razor sharp grin ripped the grin from his lips. "I'm Santana Lopez, the beautifully stunning young woman who kicked your son's ass for attempting to rape my friend. And no, sir, I don't believe I can be friends with a man twice my age without pressing charges for statutory. A pleasure to meet you though!" she replied in the same patronizing voice, smacking her gum as she sunk in her chair and immersed herself in one of Figgin's _Education Today _magazines with sudden interest.

Never one to be deterred, Judge McMann shifted his energy to the less threatening young woman behind her. "Ah! Ms. Jones! A pleasure." Judge McMann grinned again, crossing behind Santana's chair and reaching for a handshake like they were old friends. "I wish we could've met under more pleasant circumstances."

Mercedes hesitantly reached in to accept his hand shake, gasping when he clasped his free hand atop hers and pressed a kiss to her skin. She abruptly snatched her hand away and frowned, flashing away the sweaty feel of his palm. "I wish the circumstances were pleasant," she replied snidely, quirking her brow in suspicion.

He nodded at her blatant refusal of his polite affections. "How true. But I did have the pleasure of meeting your mother before this whole debacle." He said with a wave of his arm. "Lovely woman. Best paralegal this side of Lima. It's a plum shame she never made it to A.D.A."

"She never intended to. She told me after she had her children, her ambitions changed. It was more important for her to be a mother." She explained in defense to his subtle jab at her mother. Mercedes could read his spirit. As kind and sharp as he looked, his fangs and reptilian skin still peeked through his disguise. "Besides, Momma says there are only two kinds of lawyers, ones who do it for the money and ones who do it for the thrill of the kill. And you look like you come from old money, Judge McMann. I wonder why you do it, then?"

Santana chuckled in the silence. "Well _shit_." She mumbled, popping a large pink bubble over her grinning lips.

Judge McMann stared the young woman down, but decided to laugh it off as well. "And clever just like her! I swear you and Patrice are a spitting image." Mercedes frowned deepened when his eyes skimmed over the curves of her body, pausing briefly at her breasts before she covered them with her folded arms. "Spitting image _indeed_." After a pause, he clicked his tongue on his teeth and changed focus.

"Well then, maybe if my son had his mother, he'd be half the success you are, Ms. Jones. He'd have two feet kicking him in the rear for his indiscretions! Isn't that right, son?" He clapped his hand on the back of his son's neck, grabbing and wringing his throat in a playful manner.

"_Dad,_" Donovan warned, pulling his father's hand off of him.

"Son, I'm kidding! Since when did you get so hormonal and sensitive? We might have to check your estrogen level." Judge McMann laughed a hearty chuckle in Figgin's direction, but his stern face never moved a muscle, leaving him laughing alone.

"Ah, yes." He finished awkwardly, sniffing. "But sadly, my Margaret is no longer with us. She passed before the adoption was final."

"Adoption?" asked a wide eyed Mercedes, feeling that telling turn in her stomach she always felt when something of significance crossed her path.

"Yes, I know. Shocking, isn't it? Folks couldn't tell us apart when he was a boy. They called us the McMann twins!"

"_Dad,_" Donovan warned again, growing visibly annoyed.

"Judge McMann, the issue I'm having right now is your son's return to school without my consent! I've asked my secretary to call you in because your actions have breached school policy and legal policy!"

"Not so," Judge McMann replied with a point of his finger. "My sources working on the case have deemed the evidence against my son as frivolous and unsubstantiated. The charges were dismissed this morning."

"What?" Figgins, Santana, and Mercedes chorused at once. Santana whipped her chair around and clenched her fists. Donovan just smiled.

"If you don't believe me, I'm sure Ms. Jones attorney would tell her the same. And since there are no state laws governing suspension for hearsay gossip about an alleged sexual assault between two minors who, as we both know, are prone to engaging in sexually promiscuous behavior due to ill-developed portions of the brain that govern sound judgment, there is absolutely no reason why my son should be prevented from returning to school."

"I am not sexually promiscuous! And I certainly know how to make a sound decision!" Mercedes cried out, insulted and angered by his accusations.

"Is that right, Ms. Jones? Aren't you the same young woman who spent nearly a year in a committed relationship with one young man, a one Shane Tinsley, only to have an illicit sexual romp with your ex-boyfriend, with one Sam Evans, in a janitor's closet the minute he returned and declared that he _missed your company_?"

She clutched her chest, face contorting in horror. "How did you?—"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, young lady. It's the way of the law." He nodded in Figgin's direction. "I also took the liberty of calling the superintendent and getting his permission to have my son return. I hope you don't mind me going over your head." But the way his eyes crinkled at Figgin's sour look, he seemed pleased by the fact that he minded _very_ much.

"I'm going to call and confirm this myself." Figgins declared, snatching up his desk phone and forcefully punching in the superintendent's number.

"Oh, please do. And tell Ernie I said I'll see him on the golf course this weekend. He better bring his A-game." Judge McMann chuckled, brushing his well buffed nails against the lapel of his Armani.

**O-O**

Sure enough, Ernie—better known as Superintendent Ernest Evans—confirmed that Donovan McMann was in the clear for readmission, and his "secretary" neglected to alert the school of his return. Figgins authority had been overridden, and he had no choice but to comply.

"Mr. McMann, by the powers that be above me, you are free to return to your classes. Please go to Angela for your adjusted class schedule and new lock for your locker. I hope you have a….smooth transition back." Figgins begrudgingly told him, less than pleased with the outcome.

"Thank you, Mr. Figgins. I will."

"Well, I guess my work is done here." Judge McMann declared in satisfaction. "Call me if there's any more problems, son."

"I will, Dad. Hey, if any man can…"

They sprang on balls of their feet and gave each other a wink and a gun. "McMann can!" they said in unison, playfully punching each other's shoulders.

"Play well with the others, Son." His father told him seriously. Eyeing the women in the room, he lowered his voice and added, "I can't afford to rescue you from another rendezvous gone wrong. You understand?"

"Crystal clear, sir."

"Good. See you at home, my boy." With a smile and a mussing of his hair, Judge McMann left his son and McKinley, satisfied with yet another legal victory.

Mercedes just watched the turn of events, stunned and angered beyond reason. Santana saw the familiar look of fire in her eyes and stood, realizing it was her turn to hold her friend back.

"Mercedes? Chica? C'mon, let's not do anything rash, okay? Let's go call your parents and settle this the right way, okay?" Santana begged gently, reaching to cup her shoulders. But as soon as they touched, Mercedes was on the move, cornering Donovan with a murderous, pained glare.

"You know that stuff wasn't true! You know I'm not like that! Why me, huh?! Why the HELL did you choose me?! Why ruin my life?!" She cried, spit flying in his face from her rage.

He smiled that cocky grin that made her skin crawl. "You know why. You were supposed to be mine," he said quietly. "Before Shane or Sam came along. And when you were up on that stage, shaking all that _gorgeousness _for me, I knew that we still had a chance. I just wanted one time. Why couldn't you give that to me?"

"You're not just cruel, you're psycho!" She exclaimed, blinking away the angry sting of tears.

"Ms. Jones, Ms. Lopez and Mr. McMann, back to your classes. Angela will inform your teachers and explain your absence." Figgins said shortly, rising in his seat.

"C'mon, chica, let's go. Let the rat crawl back into his hole." Santana spat behind her, grabbing her forearms to pull her back.

"You're psycho bastard," she whispered, letting a stray tear fall over her hot cheek.

He leaned in close, until his lips pressed against her ear. "You're my bitch," he whispered back. "And I'm taking you down."

He pushed himself off the wall and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. Santana hugged her shaking friend from behind as they stood in the wake of his absence.

"C'mon, babe, let's go," she said, pressing a kiss to the back of her head and pulling her close. "There's nothing more we can do here."

They left the office, just in time to see Sam in the hallway, sliding a note in Mercedes's locker.

"Hey, there's the love of my life!" He ran up to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "And the best friend of the love of my life!" he said to Santana, kissing her cheek as well. "I just slid a note in your locker asking if you wanted to meet for lunch at that ice cream place down the road. I heard they had the most awesome white fudge…..Baby, what's wrong?" He just realized that both women were wearing twin frowns of despair. Mercedes looked especially troubled, and his worry doubled over when she wrung his shirt and pressed herself into his chest.

"Baby, what's wrong? What happened?" he asked in a more serious tone, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

"Just….Just don't let go right now, okay?" she said in a strained voice, turning her face briefly to sniffle.

"Okay?" He looked to Santana, mouthing "What's wrong" silently in hopes of getting answers. Santana mouthed "he's back" in reply, shaking her head remorsefully.

"Who's back?" He said aloud, pulling back slightly to nudge his girlfriend's forehead.

Mercedes just looked up at him, her brown orbs dim with an achingly familiar sense of sorrow that told him _exactly_ who without words.

His jaw tightened and set and his cheeks flamed with rage. His jade green eyes grew black in an instant, and the pupils of his eyes dilated so wide, she could see right into his soul. He released her, panting labored, tense breaths as he scanned the hallways.

"I'll kill him. Where the fuck is he?" he growled, punching the lockers. Mercedes grabbed his shoulders and eased him, pulling him back to her.

"Please don't," she cried, pleading. "Sam, don't fight him. It's not worth it. All it's going to do is get you suspended again and I couldn't bear that. _Please_, baby. Please calm down."

Her agonized cries stopped his pacing, but didn't slow his breaths or calm his jaw at all. "He hurt you and he's back here like nothing happened?! Like what he did wasn't a crime? How the hell am I supposed to let that slide, babe? He held a fucking knife to your throat. He could've killed you!"

Santana gasped. "Mercedes, you didn't tell me that! I would've finished his ass in there!" she angrily screeched. Sam frowned in confusion, and Santana remembered that she had to elaborate for his sake. "Slapped him in the face, then kicked and pummeled the shit out of him. Broke his nose."

"I always knew I liked you." He said seriously, nodding in respect. "But I want him dead."

"Whoa there, Samson." She stopped yet another attempt to charge with a hand on his shoulder. "I want him to suffer as much as you do, but death would be too quick and kind. What we need is for him to rot in prison for the rest of the days, without the chance of parole."

"Babe, they dropped the charges," Mercedes tearfully told him. "They just let him go. I didn't know they could do that. Did you know they could do that?" He pulled her back into his chest, rocking her as she soaked his shirt with tears. She made no sound, no gasping or heaving or sobbing, but Sam knew that this cry was just as heavy as ones she cried that week after Donovan hurt her. The knowledge just made him hate the man even more.

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. We're gonna get through this. Just like before, just like we talked about. We're strong."

"I know," she said in a breath, drying her eyes and squeezing his middle tight. "I know. It just hurts."

"I know it does. It hurts me, too," Sam said honestly, free with his feelings. "And I'm scared, but I'm here. I'm always here."

Santana watched the moment and allowed herself to tear up as well. As if fate could be any crueler, Donovan chose that precise moment to leave the secretary's office. He saw Mercedes in Sam's embrace and nodded in their direction. Sam tightened his grip around her and pressed a possessive kiss to her forehead, letting Donovan and everyone know that he wasn't going anywhere. Santana rested her hand on her friend's back and moved closer to her, daring him with her eyes to try something again.

"How's the nose, McMann? Hope you enjoyed my little welcome back to McKinley," she called to him, smirking.

He wiggled his bridge and shrugged. "No pain I haven't felt in a football injury. And I would've preferred a much softer touch from you, but y'know. I'm into whatever you're into." He winked back, smiling at her displeased scowl.

He met Mercedes's reddened doe eyes and stared her down, pulling his ear and pointing to the side of his temple. She turned her face away, pressing her nose in Sam's neck until he disappeared. When Sam eased his hold around her, she knew he was gone.

"C'mon, chica. I'm gonna call Dave so we can walk you to class, Bully Whips style. Just wait for us after your classes, okay?"

"And after school, I'll meet you in the parking lot, just to make sure you get in your car safely. I'll even follow you home if you want."

"I'd like that." She told them, holding Sam's hand as they walked down the halls to her next class.

**O-O**

Right before glee club started, Mercedes made a call to her mother. Mrs. Jones wasn't surprised by his return at all.

"The attorney called me this afternoon, when she found out the investigation had been suddenly halted without her knowledge. Then Principal Figgins called right after and confirmed it. He told me about the fight this morning."

"I didn't start it, mama."

"I know you didn't baby," she crooned over the phone. "Give Santana my love for me and tell her I said good job."

Mercedes smiled and rolled her eyes at her mother's antics. "I will. She's right next to me, anyway. She probably heard you."

"Hiiiiiii, Mama Jones!" Santana yelled into the phone, killing Mercedes's ear drums.

"Ah, God Santana! I think she can hear you!" She laughed, moving her iPhone to wiggle a finger in her injured ear. "I don't know if I'll be able to hear, though."

"Hi, Santana" Mrs. Jones replied, laughing. "Are you guys in glee club now?"

"Yeah, we are. We're just waiting for Mr. Schue to get here." Sure enough, the man of the hour walked through the door. "He just came in, mom. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, bug! Be safe!"

"Love you!" Mercedes called back to her mother, just before she hung up and Mr. Schue took the floor.

"Okay, folks! Nationals is exactly three weeks away and we have yet to settle on a song list or costume design for our performance! We need to step it up! Any suggestions?"

"Mr. Schue, it's the theme!" Puck exclaimed from the middle row. "I've tried to get into it, but I refuse to wear Kurt's gold lamé pants for a disco number!"

"It's better than booty shorts and sagging jeans for a Kid 'N Play number! I will not allow it!" Kurt yelled back from the front, shutting down Puck's risqué suggestion. "By the fashion gods Chanel, Wang, and Louboutin, I will not design ass huggers!"

"But what about song choice? We still haven't even picked out songs for our numbers! Shouldn't that take precedence?" Blaine asked beside his boyfriend, consoling Kurt when he collapsed in a dramatic heap in his lap.

"The 70's have too many high pitched male singers! How's a tenor like me supposed to sing a Bee Gees song?!" Mike asked indignantly.

"Maybe we could do The Temptations? Or Elvis?" Artie suggested, chilling in the corner. "Those guys aren't too high, and their clothes were bangin'! Besides, we need to do songs with a little more soul."

"What about the Troubletones?" Santana chimed in. "Do we get to perform a number, or are we gonna have to sway in the back while Rachel wrecks every single Barbra classic known to man?"

"For the last time, lay off my girlfriend, Santana! One suggestion to sing _Evergreen _shouldn't label her as a target for life!" Finn exclaimed, glaring at her when she stuck out her tongue.

"_Which _would have been a fabulous and beautiful number to perform in ode to one of the most classic, vintage singers of our time, but that's not the point!" Rachel rose up and marched her way to the front, standing beside Mr. Schue. "Our focus has been on all the wrong things! Sure, the music and the dancing are important—perhaps even mind numbingly crucial to our success—but our major focus should be preparing ourselves as performers for the strenuous work ahead!"

"Oh god, not another diet and exercise lecture, Rachel," sighed Tina, lolling her head back behind her chair.

"Sigh and groan all you want, Ms. Cohen-Chang, but diet and exercise are crucial to the preparation process," Rachel sing songed with a sweep of her hands. "Look at major vocal performers like Celine, Whitney or Mariah, or dancers like James Brown and Michael."

"Whatchu know about Michael and James, white bread?" sassed Artie, sucking his teeth.

Rachel ignored his jab. "The _point is_, in order to win, we're gonna have to make some major life changes! I've already added an extra thirty minutes to my morning jog and weight-lifting routine to increase stamina, and added a bit of ballet and Pilates for muscle tone, grace and posture. But perhaps the greatest sacrifice I've made is my vegan lifestyle." She sighed and clapped her hands together, bouncing on her toes like she had a major announcement. "I've decided, just for the duration of Nationals rehearsals and our impending performance, I will increase my protein intake by becoming….a pescatarian." She smiled, obviously pleased with herself and her sacrifice.

"Isn't that a lesbian that's obsessed with Mermaids? Because I thought of doing that once, but realized that Lord Tubbington would probably eat her if I brought her home," announced a naïve Brittany, shrugging her shoulders.

"And this is why I love you, Britt," Santana said dreamily, kissing her cheek. "But I don't see what your diet change has to do with us."

"She's saying we need to step it up and make a change. Eat, drink, and work like winners." Finn answered, jumping up to wrap his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders in support. "We have to change our focus to the things that are most important. Then….the less important things will come naturally to us."

"Exactly, Finn," Rachel cooed, leaning into his taller, strong frame. "And then we can discuss the songs that I'll sing for lead."

On that note, the entire room erupted in a chaos of voices, arguing and shouting and yelling in protest. Everyone had different ideas that they believed in, ideas that they were confident would win in competition, but they couldn't seem to find common ground and come together to agree on any of it.

"Whoa, whoa! Settle down!" Mr. Schue yelled, quieting the room. "This is not the teamwork we talked about! This is not why we're here! We're supposed to be a family first, and then a singing group. Isn't that what we agreed on?"

Everyone sported guilty or disgruntled looks, muttering things under their breath, but no one argued with him.

"Mercedes," he called suddenly, bringing everyone's attention to her quiet form.

"Mr. Schue?"

"You said you had an announcement? Maybe your words will knock some sense into us and give us focus." He beckoned her to the floor. "Come. We're ready to listen if you're ready to speak."

"Right." She looked to her confidantes scattered about, anxiously wringing her hands. "Guys, do you think you can come with me?"

Kurt, Quinn, Tina, Santana, and Sam followed her to the front. Tina, Quinn and Kurt stood behind her, supporting her with a hand on her back, while Santana stood on her left, gripping her shoulder. Sam nestled himself on her right, wrapping an arm around her waist instead.

"Wait, you guys aren't getting married, are you? How come they got to know before us?" Puck whined.

"It's not a marriage announcement, Puck. Sam's our bro, he would've told us," Mike said, rolling his eyes. But when Sam shuffled on his feet and looked down at his shoes, Mike lost a bit of confidence. "Right? Sam, you would've told us, wouldn't you?"

"It's not a marriage announcement, Mike." Sam told him plainly, leaning in to Mercedes ear. "Not yet, anyway."

She smiled at his private promise, only for her ears. "Thanks for that," she whispered back, returning to her normal voice when she spoke to the club. "No Mike, this is something far more serious. Something that I've been keeping from you guys for a long time."

"Are you pregnant?!"

"No, she's not pregnant, Finn! And stop jumping to conclusions!" Quinn chastised.

"Wait, please don't tell me this is an impromptu group number that I wasn't invited to. Because if it is and I can't sing, after all the sweating and meat eating I've done, then I must kindly but firmly protest by plugging my ears," Rachel declared dramatically, stopping up her ears with her pointer fingers before anyone could say otherwise.

Fed up with her antics, Santana stomped over and yanked her fingers out of her ears. "Rachel, if you don't shut your massive hole and listen for once in your life, I'm gonna..." Rachel blanched at the sight of Santana's raised fist and cowered, but Santana thought better of it and slowly put her hand down. "No, you know what? I'm gonna take the high road. If I've learned anything this week, it's that violence can't solve every problem. Sometimes, it only makes the problem worse." She turned her head to Mercedes, who smiled in understanding, and Tina, who gave her a silent cheer and thumbs up. "Mercedes has something really private and painful that she wants to share with us because we're her family, and I know she'd appreciate it if you'd give her a kind, non-judgmental ear and listen to her."

"Thanks, 'Tana," Mercedes said warmly, hugging her as she made her way back to the group. Rachel's mouth gaped in shock, but after that display and dramatic change in Santana, she was all ears for whatever Mercedes had to say.

Mercedes swallowed hard, mustering up the courage, and started. "A few months ago, after Sam and I got back together and we were leaving after my performance, I went to my car and got ready to go home. Some jocks came around and asked me for signatures….on the DVDs that Santana's cousin Jorge made of the performance."

"I'll never do that again. It was so stupid." Santana said in apology.

"Hey, none of this was your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault," she replied. Still, Santana ducked her head and rested on Mercedes's shoulder like a toddler begging forgiveness for being naughty. Mercedes patted her head, whispering "It's okay" before continuing. "I made the decision to go with them and sign them, since they had it in their car and it was only a short distance away. I didn't think anything of it because I didn't have a reason to mistrust them. Sam warned me that…." She faltered a bit, fighting the tightness in her throat.

"I thought that they were trouble. What I didn't tell her was that the sight of them kind of made me jealous." Mercedes met Sam's eyes then, taking in this new information. "She called me out on it, and I got mad. There was a feeling of dread I couldn't explain, but she and I both thought it was just me being selfish and distrusting. And we were partly right." His lips sucked in, quivering in his mouth, and he worked his jaw as if he wanted to say something he couldn't. Mercedes tenderly kissed his cheek, cupping his face until he looked at her.

"I went after our fight anyway, because we were both angry and needed space. We weren't thinking." She assured him with a smile and her words, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "Besides, there's no way we could've predicted what would happen when I went with them."

All of the glee club members seated were sitting on the edge, including Mr. Schue, waiting in silence for the rest of the story.

"What happened, Mercedes?" Puck asked in a quiet, innocent voice, resting wide eyed on his fists.

"When I went…" she sighed. "Two of the jocks went inside the truck and played some music while the third one followed me to the back of the truck."

Everyone gasped, predicting what would happen next in their minds.

"One moment, I was signing autographs, the next minute, he was kissing me. I told him to back off and tried to fight, but he pressed against me from behind and held me down."

"Oh my goodness, Mercedes!" Sugar exclaimed in a breath, covering her mouth with her hands. Joe keeled over and shook his head, dry heaving at the thought. Rory pulled at the sleeves of his cardigan, clawing the fabric with his nails.

"I screamed and fought, but he pushed over and slammed my head against the truck. I couldn't see straight, and my throat and head were pounding with pain." Sam hugged her closer when she sniffled and wiped her eyes with the collar of her shirt. "I swore I would say this without crying again. Damn." She laughed mirthlessly. "Guess you can't avoid it."

"Did he-"

"No, Artie. He didn't get the chance to rape me, but..." she bit her lip when she realized she'd said rape. Not attack or assault, but attempted rape. It broke her and built her up all at once. "He unzipped his pants and pressed against me. He lifted my shirt. He went under my bra and…he touched me all over." She closed her eyes and shuddered, squeaking in her throat. "I felt filthy and ashamed. I felt violated. It was enough. He didn't rape me, but he took everything. And I felt so stupid because I blamed myself for what happened."

No one's eyes were dry except Mercedes and Sam, who had done all their crying months before, even up until yesterday. But the pain on their faces was fresh enough to illicit silent sobs from a few members.

"Why didn't you tell us? W-we could've helped or something. We w-wouldn't have let you go th-through this alone," asked a weeping Finn, hiccupping his sobs.

"I didn't know how to tell you guys. I couldn't even admit it out loud yet," she calmly admitted. "I wasn't trying to hide it, honestly. And then, when you guys were talking about teamwork and all of us giving our all and not being the weak link-"

"Oh gosh, Mercedes, I'm so, so sorry I said that! I was so dumb and one track minded!" sobbed Rachel. Her face contorted painfully as she remembered, and she reached up to shamefully cover her eyes. "God, that was so stupid!"

"It's okay, Rachel." assured Mercedes, at peace with it all. "You couldn't know. But after that, I stopped going to therapy and decided to focus on glee club and you guys. I didn't want to lose the people that were most important to me."

Mr. Schue sprung from his seat, marched over, and hugged her tight. "You would never lose us, Mercedes. Never," he told her, weeping in her hair.

"I know that now." She laughed, letting a few stray tears fall. Soon, all of glee club stood and joined in a group hug, weeping and resting their heads on each other's shaking shoulders and quivering chins. They stood there for a long time, finding solace in each other's company, before Mr. Schue rose from his embrace and spoke.

"Mercedes, whenever you have to go to therapy, whatever day or time, we will make accommodations for you to go. We can come in on weekends to go over songs and dance steps if it's convenient for you."

"Really?" she asked in awe, shocked by his kind gesture. As much as she loved performing and being in glee club, she never thought Mr. Schue actually cared about her as a person, just her vocal talent.

"Yes, I mean it. You don't have to choose. We would never want you to choose. Your health and your contribution to glee club are both important. We love you as a performer and as a person."

"Thank you, Mr. Schue," she said smiling. Rachel stepped forward and hugged her next, just as Sam moved away and pulled the boys to the side, talking to them in a whisper.

"Whatever solo we decide on, no matter what genre or artist, if you get it, I will not argue or complain or anything. You can have it." Her smile turned into a whimper, and soon erupted in in full out bawl. "You can have it, Mercedes! You're so brave!" She hugged her again, shaking uncontrollably in her arms.

Mercedes patted her back consolingly, rocking her in her arms. "I appreciate that, Rachel. That offer is very…uniquely you." She looked over Rachel's head at Tina and shrugged, as if to say _"What do you even say to an offer like that?" _ Tina shook her head back, replying with a silent _"I have no idea"_. When Rachel's head rose from her chest, she gave her a kind smile and sent her on her way.

Brittany and Blaine were next, hugging her at the same time. They were tearful, but much calmer than the rest.

"I was just thinking that maybe, to help, I can teach you some kickboxing moves. I had my fight club in my old school to help kids who were bullied and teased, but this feels just as fitting." He said sadly, rubbing her shoulder. "You're strong already, Mercedes. Maybe some defense moves will help you feel even stronger?" He glanced down and shuffled his feet awkwardly, a sign of discomfort uncommon for the cool, polished brunette.

She nodded, accepting his offer. "I think that'd be awesome, Blaine. I've heard from sources that I have a mean left hook." The two friends laughed at the solemn joke, lighting their weeping faces with bright smiles.

"I'd love to see that." Blaine told her, dimming his smile. "I'd love to see you safe."

"I'd love to be safe," she said back, choking up on her words. Blaine reached in and embraced her again, enveloping her shorter frame with his whole body.

"I love you, Mercedes," he whispered. Her lids fluttered shut against his shoulder.

"I love you too, Blaine." And after a still moment, he let her go and made space for Brittany.

"Okay, so I know that may not know what's going on half the time, and most people's voices usually make me drown them out, but I always hear you. Your words always mean something to me. What happened sucked, but I'm here if you ever need someone to listen, because your voice sounds beautiful to me, even when you're crying."

Brittany's words made her cry the most. It was Mercedes who pulled her in for a hug, wrapping her arms tight around her shoulders. Brittany shook her and spun her lightly off the ground.

"You're my smartest friend, Britt," Mercedes lovingly told her. "Don't let anyone ever tell you you're stupid."

Brittany backed away, dabbing the corners of her eyes with her uniform, and bowed out with a smile. Sugar stepped up and opened her mouth to say something, but meeting Mercedes eyes made it abruptly close. She was always a talker, but a moment like this didn't need words.

"I know, Sugar," Mercedes told her, cupping her face when she rested her forehead on hers and started sobbing. "I know."

Her arms whipped around her, holding on to Mercedes for dear life. Sugar clung to her the longest. Mercedes always felt a special kinship with the younger girl and saw much of her spirit in her. They were both equally confident and fragile, all at the same time.

Sugar finally let her go after a long moment, making one last attempt to say something, anything to Mercedes, but the words wouldn't come. She didn't force them. Sugar just gave her a silent look of pity and thankfulness, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before fluttering away.

"And I was talking with the guys, and we decided to be your personal bodyguards, whenever or wherever you need it," said Puck.

Artie wheeled in front of the guys. "Just say the word, Mercedes. We'll come running, no questions asked."

"All of us." Mike chimed in, turning his head to discreetly wipe his eyes without her seeing. Mercedes caught the gesture anyway and offered a soft smile.

"That's so kind, guys. But I don't think I'll need it…"

"You can never be too protected," Joe said suddenly, interrupting her. "We can be, like, your guardian angels watching over you."

"Yeah, and it's just for emergencies, Mercy. If I can't be there right away for whatever reason, it's nice to know that one of my boys can jump in and help," Sam explained.

"Since Sam and I live together, I'd hate to know something happened to you after the fact, knowing that I could have done something to help. We love you too, Mercedes." Finn told her.

"Please?" Rory pouted adorably, jutting his lip like a two year old to convince her. And judging from their pitiful, expectant faces, they were all hoping she'd say yes too. It wasn't just out of their fear for her safety; it was for their own peace of mind. They needed the permission to protect her because they needed to protect, both as her glee family and the male figures in her life. They were like her brothers, and they took their responsibility over her very seriously.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'd feel safer knowing you guys were there."

They all smiled and high fived each other, elated that their plan had worked. One by one, they came and embraced her. Artie pulled her in his lap and popped a spinning wheelie, making her and the rest of glee club laugh at their antics. Puck lifted her in his hug and littered her cheeks with kisses, until Sam had to pry them apart and shoot him a warning look.

"She's still _my _girlfriend, Puck," Sam warned with a playful glare. "Watch the lips."

Puck just shrugged. "Hey, I was you for about five minutes. She may like my version better." He joked, referring to his brief role as Sam in Mercedes's reunion performance of _Summer Lovin'._

"Nah, I think I'm good with this one. No returns," Mercedes smirked, kissing her blushing boyfriend's cheek.

"Well, call me if you change your mind. The Puckster always has a special place in his heart for you." He told her with a pat to his chest. "You'd even be my main squeeze!"

Mercedes rolled her eyes, snuggling into Sam's side. "Thanks, Puck." She replied with mock sarcasm. "I appreciate the offer."

"Well, I for one feel cleansed from this moment of catharsis and spiritual healing," Kurt sighed, fanning his heated cheeks. "Not to mention strangely inspired."

"Me too," Added Tina, surprised at the revelation. "I feel like we've finally focused on what's important. I feel…peaceful."

"We're family," declared Finn, pulling Rachel close. "For real this time."

"I think this calls for one more hand pile, then!" Mercedes said in a delightfully chipper voice. She reached in to start the pile.

"No one left behind." Sam added, joining.

"No weak links," Rachel added, smiling at Mercedes as she joined.

"All heart," Santana smiled with mascara streaked cheeks, not caring in the least about her display of emotion.

"And we'll do it together." Kurt added his hand, and the others gleefully slapped their hands atop his, playfully wiggling their fingers.

Nationals stress forgotten, Artie whipped out his '80s style boom box and The New Directions spent the rest of their rehearsal time dancing and telling jokes, singing off key, and basking in the presence of each other. It was a light, delightful spirit in the room, one that had long since been forgotten and cast aside in favor of frivolous things.

But if there's one thing tragedy can teach a family, it's how to appreciate the moments of joy when they come. And that, not a trophy or accolades from a group of their peers, made them winners.

**O-O**

After Glee club, the group left together to pack up and go home, already spouting fresh ideas for songs and costumes they all could agree on. Sam and Mercedes led the flock up front, discussing everything that transpired.

"Feel better?" He asked her proudly.

"Better doesn't even begin to describe how I feel." And it was the utter truth. She breathed easier than she had in a long, long time. Mercedes stood taller, walked taller, and wore a confidence in her own skin that he hadn't seen since before the assault. The light in her eyes had never left, even in the midst of her pain, but now its dim flame burned brightly and flickered in her eyes. She looked radiant.

"Look Mercy, about tonight, if you want to reschedule or something…."

"I want to go." she laced their fingers, kissing the top of his hand. "Today should have been tragic. Donovan came back along with a bunch of old feelings, and it should have broken me. But it didn't! Baby, it didn't break me. It made me stronger. I feel braver. And I can't think of a better way to celebrate that than to go out with my boyfriend on our not-so-first first date." She smiled.

"I'm so proud of you, baby," he whispered in her ear. "Tonight's gonna be amazing, just wait and see."

"I'm..." Her eyes drifted to the far end of the hallway, focusing on something, and her smile faltered. "I'm counting on it."

Her voice grew odd and distant. Following her gaze, he realized why. Leaning against her lockers, Donovan and his crew, along with a couple cheerleaders and members of the student body, stood around Jacob Ben Israel's camera as he interviewed the man of the hour. Donovan smiled and flexed for the camera, eliciting cheers from the crowd, as he answered Jacob's questions.

Sam tightened his grip on her hand, stopping them and glee club behind him in the middle of the hallway.

"Why are we stopping?" Tina asked behind them. Santana tapped her shoulder and pointed in front of them, answering in their place.

"That's him."

"_Who_ him?!" Artie asked in a pissed off voice, even though her morose tone told him exactly who the "him" was. Everyone's gaze followed Santana's pointing finger, seeing the dark haired jock in question, less than three feet away from them.

"Donovan?! We used to hang after practice!" Mike stepped forward, wrapping a protective shoulder around his own girlfriend. "That asswipe!"

"That bitch?! We could take him!" uttered a suddenly ride-or-die Quinn, moving beside Mercedes.

Puck cracked his fists in his palm. "Well, looks like I'm gonna get to test out these babies." He pulled out a pair of custom-made brass knuckles, with the name "P-izzle" etched in cubic zirconia, and slid them on his fists, smiling at the cool touch of metal on his bare skin. "Sal told me that it's guaranteed to break skin or my money back. I haven't found a worthy test subject until now."

"Let's test it out!" Artie started wheeling toward him, but Mercedes stopped him.

"No guys. I don't want to do this here, not today. Let's just leave out the back way and bypass the drama. Do it for me, okay?"

The guys groaned heavily, and Quinn, Tina, and Santana looked a bit disappointed by her suggestion, muttering under their breaths.

"We could have just kicked his ass and left..."

"I wanted to see him go down…."

"I already beat him down once. The second time could've really done some damage…"

"Look, nobody wants a Donovan smack down more than me, but we have to respect Mercedes wishes." Sam said with a sigh, clenching and unclenching his fingers to calm the itch to fight. "Let's just get out of here. Tomorrow's another day."

The crew reluctantly turned the other way, traveling only a couple steps to their destination when a loud, overly confident male voice called to their attention.

"Hey look! There's the star of the hour!" Donovan called out from behind them. "Mercedes, baby! Why don't you come over and tell Ben Israel here how excited you are to see me!"

Sam saw his girlfriend cower and shake at his voice, and he struggled to take a couple of calming breaths before realizing that they only served to anger him more. _Screw it_, he thought, _I could handle another suspension. I'll work on my anger later in therapy._

"I'm breaking his face," he announced aloud, shucking her hand and preparing to charge.

Mercedes fought to grab his arm and stop him, in the midst of Artie's mantra of "Bitches gon' die, Bitches gon' die!"

"No! No, you're not, Sam," she said sternly, forcibly turning him.

"And why the hell not, Mercedes?! So he can call you baby again and I can watch him torment you? So you can cry on my shoulder another couple of weeks from nightmares? So he could ruin everything we worked hard to get back? No, screw that, I'm not listening." He whipped his hand out of her grasp and walked on, glee club following closely behind him with equally murderous glares.

"Fuck yeah, it's on," Santana muttered under her breath with a menacing smirk.

"Sam, no, you're not doing this." Mercedes demanded, blocking his path with her body. "And you can push me down and fight me all you want because that's the only way you're getting through."

Sam ground his teeth as he glanced between Donovan's cocky grin and Mercedes's determined eyes. His anger morphed to frustration, knowing that he was only a few feet away from the bastard but couldn't reach him. Mercedes knew he would never put his hands on her, and he knew that's exactly what she was banking on.

"Why won't you let me handle it for us?!" he groaned in an angry whisper, leaving her face to stare down Donovan's smile.

"Why won't you let me decide?! Why do you insist on acting without giving me a say?" she whispered back, frowning. After a moment, their faces softened when they realized that they'd had this argument before. Donovan's return made them regress to old habits. He brought back the Friday in the parking lot all over again.

"I'm sorry, Mercedes." he said sincerely, breaking their rules just this once.

Mercedes leaned into him, nodding. "I'm sorry, too. I don't want to go back to that."

"But why won't you let me handle him? I can, you know. This time, I won't leave him wounded on the floor. I'll kill him." And by his terse breaths and the crazed look on his face, he really meant it. Mercedes knew he would if she stepped aside and let him.

"I refuse to let that happen. I refuse to let you go to jail or get punished any more for me. This is my fight, too." She cupped his face and massaged his jaw, loosening the tension with her soft touches. "I'm gonna go and face him and I'm gonna do it by myself. I need you to stay behind."

"Mercedes, are you insane?"

"Sam, you aren't the only one that's sick and tired of him. I'm done being haunted by this! And the only way I'll ever truly be free of my demons is if I face them head on."

"Mercedes?" Jacob's timid, nasally voice turned her around. "The public's waiting, if you have anything to say on the matter." The mike in his hand moved closer to her mouth, as did the cameraman behind Jacob, waiting for her to speak.

"One second, Jacob." She turned her face to the man at her side, kissing his tightening grip on her hand.

"Trust me," she pleaded, begging him to understand with her eyes. Sam looked at her for a long moment, warring with his instincts and her pleas. "Please, Sam. I need to do this. I can do this. Have faith in me."

After a minute to decide, he loosened his fingers from hers and stepped back, joining the rest of the glee club behind her.

"What the hell, Sam?! Are you crazy? You can't let her face him alone!" chastised Quinn.

"Yeah, what the hell are you thinking?! She can't do this by herself!" said Santana, watching anxiously as Mercedes walked into the media lion's den. Sam just stood resolved, hands behind his back as he watched his girlfriend with a guarding eye.

"He's _thinking_ that she needs to do this. He's trusting her decision," Tina said, stepping between a quiet Sam and a pissed Santana and Quinn. "And as much as we want to fight for our girl, we have to realize that she needs to fight, too. Sam respects that and so should we." She laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled at her girl's bravery, sending telepathic messages of encouragement her way.

"Go get 'em, Mercy. We're right behind you," she whispered, quivering as she smiled proudly.

Mercedes gulped in fear at the bright lights and attention, feeling suddenly unsure of herself as she stepped out alone. If that weren't enough, Donovan's eyes and the eyes of his crew were boring into her.

"Ms. Jones, eager fans are dying to know your reaction to McKinley quarterback Donovan McMann's return, especially since there were rumors that the two of you had a brief romantic tryst soon after your extravagant reunion to on again-off again-back on again boyfriend, Sam Evans. After Donovan's recent implications that you two "shared something special", students are drawing horrid conclusions about your character and ability to remain loyal in a relationship. What say you, Ms. Jones? Will Donovan's return spark another sudden break from the old to venture into the new? Or are you and Mr. Evans staying together this time? How do you respond to the allegations about your character and Donovan's claims that he knew you well before Sam and Shane Tinsley, both in the biblical and non-biblical sense?"

Mercedes stared speechless at the mike, gaping like a fish in her struggle to answer. "I…um….that didn't…."

"Oh no, she's struggling! She's struggling! We have to go in there and save her!" Puck charged forward, but Sam stopped him with his arm before he could interrupt.

"No, Puck, she has this." Sam said confidently, nodding. "I have the utmost faith in her. My girl is strong. Give her a chance." _C'mon baby, you can do this. Stay brave, Stay focused, _he thought. _Don't let him get to you._

"C'mon, chica! Tell that annoying nerd the truth!" Santana yelled behind her, making her more nervous than before.

"Yeah, Mercedes," added Donovan, pulling a petite brunette cheerleader to his side like a giggling trophy. "Tell him how you followed me to my truck. Tell him about the fight you and Sam had about me. Tell him how much you wanted me, but never thought you could approach me. Tell the truth." His lips grinned menacingly when her eyes fell away from him in fear. "Look at her, she's speechless!"

The crowd chuckled at her and quietly whispered amongst themselves, swirling with rumors. Mercedes couldn't make out all of their words, but she distinctly heard her name amidst the chaos. It made her sick to her stomach.

"Baby." Mercedes turned to Sam's voice, questioning him with a frown.

"You're not speechless. You're bold." He smiled encouragingly. "You're one of the most vocal people I've ever met. You've never let anyone shut you up, including me. Don't start with him. Don't start now. Tell your story."

"What if I can't?" she mouthed to him, shaken with worry.

"Either way, we're leaving here together." He placed his hand over his heart, wiggling his adorned ring finger on his chest. "Always." He mouthed back, prompting her to do the same. She smiled and copied him, wiggling her own ring finger.

Breathing deeply, she faced the microphone and the pressure of Jacob's questions with a bit more confidence, repeating Sam's words over and over in her mind.

"I knew him." She breathed, bravely facing the camera and maintaining eye contact with Jacob. "Donovan was friends with Shane and on the football team, so naturally I came in contact with him. He's even in my homeroom and always said hello to me in the mornings. But, we never had a relationship, not when I was dating Shane or Sam."

Unintentionally, her eyes flickered to Donovan and the brunette he had wrapped in his arms. He met her stare as he pulled the cheerleader close and whispered in her ear, smiling all the while. The cheerleader looked in her direction with an expression of sour disgust, scoffing and cackling and whatever Donovan whispered to her. Squinting at Mercedes, she pressed her breasts against Donovan's chest and rubbed against him, wiggling her ass in a show of possession. It didn't rattle Mercedes like the girl wanted, just distracted her momentarily from the interview. So, to seal the deal, she pressed a long, showy kiss to Donovan's cheek and winked back at her, mouthing "ho" with a nasty sneer.

That did it. All the anger, hurt, and false accusations had finally come to a head the moment that foul word left that cheerleaders mouth and targeted her. Everyone standing around probably thought the same thing, judged her for rumors that came from the wild imaginations of idle teenagers in search of hot gossip. She was tired of being the brunt of jokes, tired of the stares and the attacks; tired of being degraded and demeaned for something she had no control over.

She was gonna take her name back, Mercedes Jones style.

"Okay, you know what? That's it. I'm done skirting around it and being afraid. I'm done being manipulated by you," she barked, snatching the mike from Jacob's hands and walking boldy toward her attacker, pushing the lightweight groupie from his arms so she could meet him face to face. Cameras followed her move, eagerly lapping up the drama.

"Make sure we have enough recording time," Jacob whispered to the cameraman. After a quick check, he gave the reporter thumbs up to continue. Jacob nodded at her, though she didn't even look his way to acknowledge his permission to continue.

"You wanna know the _truth?_ The truth is that I left McKinley that Friday safe and sound, happy with my boyfriend and ready to start our new relationship, when this lowlife excuse of a boy decided that he and his buddies were gonna have a little fun and ask for autographs. I didn't think anything of it because I didn't have a reason. I mean, how do you know someone's lost their damn mind from looking at them anyway? He didn't look crazy. But I can confirm for all of you that Donovan McMann is a dangerous criminal, certifiably insane and deserves to be locked away in an asylum."

"I have no idea what she's talking about!" laughed a nervous Donovan to the listening crowd. No one laughed with him.

"You tried to rape me, Donovan. You cornered me, had your punk buddies Eddie and Larry go in your truck and turn up the radio, and sexually assaulted me against my will."

"That's a lie." He growled. "You wanted it. Everyone wants me."

"I told you no!" she yelled in the mike, invading his space. "I pushed you away when you tried to kiss me, and you couldn't handle it! So, you push me over the edge of the truck. You slammed my head against the hard metal floor and tried to knock me unconscious…"

"That's a lie, you're lying. What's wrong with you?"

"Then you turn me over, force yourself on top of me, press a knife to my throat and threaten to slit my pretty black ass from lip to slit if I try to scream out…"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" he yelled with a sour look, growing sick at her words.

"What's the matter, Donovan? That's not the way you remember it? You don't remember lifting my shirt as I cried, begging you to stop when you mauled my breasts?" The crowd gasped, making random gagging noises and shooting looks of sick disapproval his way. "You held me down against my will, unzipped your pants and pressed your naked penis against me while I fought for my life!"

"YOU'RE A LIAR!" he roared, lunging forward with open claws. Sam jumped between them to swing, but not before Mercedes' fist connected with his jaw. Sam's left fist connected with his left jaw the same time Mercedes's knocked his right, cracking his mandible with the force of their combined blows and throwing him to the ground.

"I was there, you fucker!" Sam yelled. "She'd never sleep with your ass! You forced her! And I promise I won't rest until your ass is in jail for life or dead."

Mercedes eyes watered in angry tears, staring at him clutching his jaw in agony as he writhed on the ground. He didn't feel even a fraction of the pain he'd caused her and everyone in her life.

Glee club moved in behind her for support and the crowd silently backed away in respect when they approached. She knelt in front of him, waiting for him to regain control of his mouth and realign his jaw so she could look him in the eyes.

"What are you doing? Why are you doing this? You can't prove a thing! No one will believe you!" he asked, genuinely shocked that she had the nerve to fight back.

She slowly leaned over his ear, as she were moving to kiss him, and pressed her lips against it as she vengefully whispered and pointed at his chest, "You're my bitch now, Donovan. And I'm gonna be the one to take _YOU _down." She gave him a dismissive shove.

Rising to her feet with a toss of her hair over her shoulder, she brushed off her shoulders and dusted her knees free of dirt and turned to her friends.

"We're going out the front door," she told them. She grabbed the hair of the taunting cheerleader and threw her body toward the lockers next to Donovan. Ms. Mercedes Jones was back! Her fledging confidence had been replaced by new found inner strength. Clearing her throat like the boss she was, the crowd parted and let her through, and she clacked her heels down the halls with the swagger of a runway model.

The crowd watched them pass with wide eyes. Azimo and Shane stepped forward from the crowd, raising their hands and starting the slow clap that was due her confession. Another hand followed suit, then another, until the crowd erupted in howls and cheers and stomping feet.

Her glee friends were a mixed bag of reactions, most with gaped mouths, others with proud smirks and nodding heads. Artie wheeled on behind her with a wiggle of his praise hand, shaking his head with a sporadic, soulful "Mmph!" from his lips. Santana stuck up her middle finger to the crowd as she passed, crouching in front of Donovan and doubling it up when she passed his way. Sam ran up to catch up with her and grabbed her hand, pulling her close and kissing her temple.

"That's my girl." He whispered, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Mercedes felt her lips quiver then break out into a grin that she couldn't fight. Her smile shone so brightly, stretched so broadly that she felt the need to hide her face in his shirt as they crossed the threshold and pushed through the double doors.

**O-O**

"So, no telling me where we're going? Not even a hint?"

"Nope!" Sam said in a chipper tone, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in anxious anticipation of her date surprise.

The showdown earlier that day didn't shake their date plans. Instead, it made them even more excited than before. Confronting Donovan as a united front gave them a new sense of purpose, a hope that they'd spoken of for the future but hadn't felt. What should have been the worst day of their lives since the attack turned out to be the very thing they needed to move forward. Now, this date, this new beginning, held power.

"Sam, you know I hate surprises! Just tell me already!" she whined with a jutted bottom lip, rubbing her covered eyes. To add to the excitement of the day and the surprise he had in store, Sam decided to blindfold her as soon as he picked her up. Mercedes made an effort to protest (it wasn't in her newly rediscovered confident nature to just take it), but her actions said that she was completely into it. She let Sam tie the purple satin blindfold around her eyes and guide her around, seat her in his car, and buckle her up for the trip to the unknown destination without hesitation. Now that they were on their way and the drive was silent, curiosity got the better of her.

"If I tell you, you'll hate me later for telling you, so quit asking!" laughed Sam, rolling his eyes at his insistent girl. Thank goodness she couldn't see him. One bat of her lashes and he would've caved.

After a couple minutes of driving down a straight road, Mercedes felt the swerve of a rounded left turn, followed by small bumps over a ground of different texture. Judging by the degree of the jostling, Mercedes surmised that they were driving and parking over soil and gravel.

"Are we here? Are we on campgrounds?" she asked, turning her blinded face in his direction.

"Something like that," he chuckled, unbuckling her seatbelt. She heard his door open and slam shut, followed by a gust of wind to her right and a warm, calloused hand on hers.

"Home," she whispered, unsure of why she felt the need.

"You feel unsafe?" Mercedes could hear the confusion in his voice, even though she couldn't see his face. "But you know it's me. What's wrong? Be honest."

"Honestly?" He squeezed her hand in the affirmative, once for yes. "I don't know where we're going, I'm blindfolded, and you just grabbed my hand when I couldn't see you. Having all this stuff going on around me without having some control over it scared me."

"You want me to take it off?" he asked, sounding a bit deflated.

She nibbled her lip in thought, and then said after a moment. "No. I don't want you to. I just need you to talk to me and tell me what's happening. Okay?"

"I can manage that." Sam smiled and helped her step out of the car. "Have faith in me, Ms. Jones. You're in good hands."

"If I didn't believe that, we wouldn't be doing this right now," she chuckled, reaching out in front of her to feel her way. Sam laughed at her attempt to guide herself in spite of her claim of trust in him. Instead of arguing, he grabbed both her hands and wrapped them around his middle, keeping her close behind him.

"Have _complete _faith, Mercedes. I won't let you fall," he told her, kissing each of her knuckles and holding them over his stomach.

"O-okay," she hesitantly replied, leaning her head against his back as they walked. She just measured her steps and studied the steady beat of his heart under her hands until he spoke again.

"This is just like the week after the assault, remember?" he told her softly. "Your hands closed near my chest, over my heart, together in the silence."

The fond memory of togetherness made her smile into his back. "Yeah. You kept me steady. I never thanked you for that."

"You didn't have to, love. It was my pleasure."

He blushed at the press of her lips against the sensitive curve of his back, shivering involuntarily at the tingles it gave him. "Sam?"

"Yes?" he replied, more coolly than he felt.

"Guide me anywhere you like, okay? I trust your judgment. Just don't…"

"I know." She didn't have to say it. His grip around her hands tightened securely without her having to ask. "I won't, I promise."

**O-O **

Soon, after a wet track in the grass, Mercedes could hear the sounds of music and laughter in the distance. The ringing of bells and whizzing sounds told her they were somewhere with games, but she couldn't be sure where. Was there such a thing as an outdoor arcade?

"Are those game sounds?" she asked, deciding to question the one who can actually see.

"Yup. We're at a place with games. Any guesses yet?"

She shook her head. "It sounds like an arcade, but it doesn't make sense."

Sam hummed in his throat. "Maybe some more clues will help you out. Come over here." He guided her to the left and took one of her hands, placing it on something soft and sticky. "What do you feel?"

"It feels weird and disgusting!" she laughed, scrunching her nose. "What is this?!"

"What, you still can't tell?! On to the next clue!" he swerved her to the left, running with her to another station. "What do you hear?"

Mercedes listened closely, confused by the sound. "It sounds like…..wheels? Wheels over….metal? Are we near train tracks?"

"You're getting waaarmer!" he sing-songed, bringing her to her last clue. "Okay, open your mouth."

"What? Sam….."

"Just trust me, I won't poison you. Just open your mouth." She opened wide and complied, frowning when something warm and sweet landed on her tongue. "It tastes like…." Her bright smile warmed his heart. She figured it out. "It tastes like funnel cake! Oh Sam, we're at the carnival, aren't we?!"

"Ding ding! We have a winner!" Sam cheered. "I thought for sure you would've gotten it by the cotton candy and the game sounds!"

He took off her blindfold as she shook her head and adjusted to the light. "I forgot the carnival came to town this early! Oh Sam, this is perfect! This was where we had our last date before Kentucky."

"I know," he said, his smile dimming at the memory of his tearful last day with her. However, he perked up again when her eyes lit up in the sparkling array of lights flashing around them. "Do…do you like it? Was it right?"

"It was so right! Thank you, baby." She smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Where do we start?"

"Well, I was thinking." he tilted his head over to the ride in the corner with a flirty half smirk. "The tilt-a-whirl is free..."

Mercedes sucked her lips in, trying but failing to hide her excitement. Her knowing eyes met his. "So it is. And no line in sight."

"Race you to the entrance?" he grinned. As soon as the words left him, they broke into a sprint, giggling and tripping over their feet in their race to the first of many rides for the night.

**O-O**

"C'mon Sam, let's take a break and eat funnel cake! I LOVE funnel cake," she squealed, pulling him like an eager child to the funnel cake stand. They stole blushing looks and kisses while they waited their turn on the line, becoming so distracted with the sight and feel of each other that they didn't realize they'd reached the front and had to order.

"Sam, it's our turn….Sam, Stop!" she squirmed and smiled, swatting away his eager lips from her neck. Sam shrugged unapologetically, taking the time away from her embrace to reapply his cherry chap stick.

"Welcome to Funnelicious, where we guarantee delicious!" said the unusually nasal, English server, facing away from them. "What funnerific funnel cake can I serve you up today?"

"Two originals with whipped cream, please?" she ordered with a giggle, closing her eyes as she leaned into Sam's lips on her neck the second time around.

"Two funnel cakes coming up!" The waiter set two convoluted twists of the sweet dough into the fryer, humming happily as he turned to collect payment. "That will be $5.20….don't I know you from somewhere?"

Mercedes and Sam opened their eyes at the same time. Sam side-eyed the man from his position on Mercedes neck, wearing an annoyed frown for the interruption. Mercedes took a minute to process him, then widened her eyes in realization, stepping forward to the counter. The voice and uppity stance were unmistakable, even if he exchanged his suit and bowtie for a red and white pinstripe apron and paper sailor hat.

"You used to work at the Italian restaurant! Richard, isn't it?"

He snapped his fingers, placing her name. "Future Mrs. Tinsley! I never forget a love story I come across! Where is he?" he asked, looking behind them as if Sam wasn't standing right there, latched to her neck.

"No, actually, Shane and I broke up." She answered with a polite smile. "We weren't in love, just thought we were. This right here is my true love, Sam Evans."

Sam fought his burgeoning grin at her words, reaching out a hand. "Nice to meet you, sir. I just wish it wasn't under such awkward circumstances." He jested, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the nature of the meeting.

"Nonsense! There's no awkward time for love! Please, stand back together. Let me look at you." Sam hugged his girl with both arms around her shoulders, while Mercedes leaned into his chest, smiling and blushing at the attention.

"Aww, aren't you both perfect!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands. "You know, I knew from the second you and Mr. Tinsley walked in that you two weren't meant to be, but I didn't want to ruin budding romance with my bleak insight, although I'm usually right ninety-eight percent of the time. But you two? I see it all over you. This is a lifetime love, rare and precious." He handed them their funnel cakes, squirting the whipped cream on both in the shape of a heart. "Treat this one well, young man. She's a keeper."

Sam gazed at the woman at his side, bopping her nose with his finger. "I fully intend to," he promised. "Every day for the rest of my life."

"Ditto," she whispered back, sharing a moment of loving connection with him. Richard cleared his throat, interrupting the two love-stricken teen with a knowing look.

"As adorable as you both are, there is a matter of this bill…."

"Oh! Right." Sam fished out the cash from his back pocket. "That should cover it." The server took the money, counted it, and opened the register for change.

"How come you aren't working at the restaurant anymore, if you don't mind me asking?" inquired Mercedes.

"They fired me for improper conduct. Can you believe customers complained that I was too much of a gossip?" he scoffed, handing Sam his coin change. "The nerve of some people, falsely accusing like that!"

The teens looked off to the side. "Yeah, the nerve." Sam said sarcastically, low enough to escape Richard's ears. "Thank you for the funnel cake!"

"Ah! Ah! One last touch!" he sprinkled powdered sugar and cocoa on top of each dish, sending them off with a wink. "They taste better together."

Mercedes blushed again, hiding her warm cheeks in Sam's shoulder. Sam just rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Thanks." He uttered, ushering Mercedes to the nearest bench after she sent Richard a shy goodbye wave.

**O-O**

"So…Italian restaurant. You and Shane, huh?" she nodded, mouth full of the last bits of her funnel cake. Sam had already finished his and discarded his plate. "That's a pretty expensive place."

"It's where he proposed," she answered, mouth full of the thick, doughy dessert. She finished after she swallowed and stole a gulp from Sam's water bottle. "It was more his thing than mine, so don't get jealous and insecure."

"I'm not!" he protested, shrugging it off like it was nothing. "I was just making an observation."

"_Evans_." She sassed, calling him out on his BS without saying anything else. She used to call him that over summer, when he felt guilty about not being able to pick up the check or pouted when they had to host another date at Mercedes house because of his living situation. It didn't matter to her then, and it certainly didn't matter now.

"Evans" she called again, softer, as she took his hand.

"Yeah?" he answered, with sad green eyes.

"This date is way better than any other dates I've been on with Shane, fancy Italian restaurant included. You know why?"

"Because I'm prettier company?" he joked, though his voice told her that his heart wasn't in it.

"Because I _wasn't in love with him_. He made me feel stifled! I felt like I had to pretend the whole time I was with him. It wasn't his fault, I had a part to play in that too, but…" she kissed his knuckles. "I can be myself with you. I've never once felt like I had to pretend. You get me, and I get you, and that's all it takes to make a date spectacular. It's not the money, babe." She reached over to tap his chest, then hers with the same finger. "It's the heart. And mine only beats for you. Money can't buy that. Shane tried, but failed miserably."

He stared at her with stars in his eyes, smiling at her for a long moment before he replied, "What did I do to deserve the blessing of your life in mine?"

She shrugged, tossing her wavy hair over her shoulder. "What did I do? Absolutely nothing. I don't question the blessing, I just enjoy it. And I enjoy your company, Sam Evans."

"Would this be a good time on our second first date to kiss you for real?" he asked her, already leaning halfway over the table.

"Now would be the perfect time." She answered, meeting him in the middle with a smiling kiss. Their lips moved tenderly, softly against each other in exploration, searching and seeking out more of the magic spark that ignites when love is new and emotions are fresh. It was better than their first kiss, if that were even possible, because it held more meaning. Before, they were children and naïve in love. Now they were older, wiser, and more secure in themselves and each other than ever before.

They parted with a final peck, rubbing noses as they stared into each other's eyes.

"You feel that? Beating wildly in your chest?" she whispered to him, following the sharp bridge of his nose with her brown gaze.

"It's my heart inside yours, because I carry you with me," he whispered in reply, smiling as he rested his pillowy lips against her chin.

"Always," she promised, pressing a final kiss to his cheek before returning to her seat. He followed suit, feeling more confident than he did before.

"So, what's the next ride?" he sighed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"I don't know. I think we've ridden them all." She said, looking around and mentally checking off all the rides she saw and conquered.

Sam's eyes drifted to the distance behind her, doing a double take at the large roller coaster behind her. "Not every ride." He grinned. Curious, she turned and followed his gaze.

"Oh, _hell no_, Samuel Evans, you will not convince me to ride that thing!" she told him flat out. "It's a death trap!"

"It is not a death trap! You're exaggerating!" he said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "You've never even tried it and you've passed judgment! That's not the Mercedes jones I know!"

"It's scary looking," she confessed in a timid, baby voice. "It's so big. And I'm so…short."

He snorted a laugh. "Nonsense, you're the perfect height! Look, baby, if you don't like it, we don't ever have to go on one again. Just try it with me. I'll be next to you the whole time, and you can claw my hands and curse me out as much as you want when you're scared," chuckled Sam. Mercedes eyed him warily, still unconvinced. "Pweety pwease? For me?" He clasped his hands and begged her with a pink-lipped pout, undoing her frown with a laugh.

"Okay, okay! One time!" she relented. Sam leaped out of his seat and ran around the table, pulling her up into a kiss and down the carnival grounds before she changed her mind.

"I bet you'll love it." He said lowly, practically sprinting to the roller coaster line.

"I bet I won't!" she called back, struggling to keep his grasp and run at his pace. "I'm gonna hate it!"

**O-O**

"Whoa! Did you _feel that_?!" Mercedes excitedly exclaimed as they walked from their twentieth trip on the ride, mouth full of cotton candy. "First, it was like _Whooosh!_ And then, _blam!_ At the curve! OH, and the drop! I thought my heart was falling!"

Sam just smiled at her. She looked so adorable in her statue of liberty foam hat and red clown nose, large and comically bulbous between her cherub cheeks. Her arms were full of her other novelties that he'd offered to carry, tons of toys and useless knickknacks Sam had won her at the carnival games, , but Mercedes was adamant on carrying each one of her "first date" prizes. Sam delegated his tasks to food bearer, feeding her yet another piece of cotton candy as she animatedly babbled on about her new love of roller coasters.

"So you enjoyed it, then?" he asked with a clever smile, wiping the sticky sweetness from the corner of her mouth.

"YES! I want to ride every roller coaster in every park in the world!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her feet as she walked.

"Whoa, slow down Evil Knievel! I don't know if we're there yet." He chuckled. They'd only ridden three so far, and two of those were baby coasters by true rider status, but he didn't want to kill her buzz with the details. He was just proud of her for conquering her fear. "But I'd love to take you to every one of them and ride them together, when you're ready for them."

"I'm so ready now. I feel fearless!" She leaned up and pecked his cheek. "Thank you for this, baby. This was the best idea ever."

"I'm glad you loved it." He smiled, genuinely pleased. He guided her to a smooth patch of grass under the cool shading of a weeping willow and spread out his plaid camping blanket, gesturing for her to sit first. "M'lady?"

She tossed all her trinkets near the trunk of the tree, foam hat and nose included, before she lay back on the blanket. Sam laid out right beside her, his feet to her head, and joined hand with her in the middle.

"So tell me something new. Something I missed when I was away in Kentucky."

She hummed in thought, wiggling her bottom on the soft cotton as she formulated her answer. "Well, let's see…..I got that tattoo I swore I was gonna get!"

"No way!" Sam exclaimed, sitting up. "Let me see! I've gotta see!"

Mercedes sat up and turned her back to him, peeking over her shoulder with a flirty slant of her eye as she pulled down the shoulder of her dress and revealed her ink.

"Whoa, mercy! It looks awesome!" Sam said in praise. His fingers reached out to trace the hummingbird on her right shoulder, etched mid-flight in red and blue inks. "It's gorgeous, just like you."

She grinned proudly. "You like it?"

He looked at her with desire, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to the spot. She sighed and closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the intimacy of his lips on her hidden skin and the feelings it stirred within her.

"I love it." He answered in a sultry, rasped voice. "I can't wait to see what other surprises you have for me."

She shuddered as he left her, knowing without a doubt that her shakes had nothing to do with the summer breeze swirling around them.

"Your turn?" she squeaked, pulling up her top and lying back down. Sam smirked and resumed his position, lacing their fingers again.

"Well, I finally decided what I want to do with my life." He answered, scratching his head. "But you're gonna laugh if I tell you."

"No, I won't, I promise! Tell me, tell me!" she sat up and laid nearly on top of him, bouncing on her elbows in excitement.

He grinned at her eagerness. "Well…I've decided that I want to be a writer. But not just any writer, like screen plays and comics and movies and stuff. I want to create stories and inspire people." His eyes shifted nervously to her face, gauging her reaction. "It's stupid, huh? Especially with the way I read and my chicken scratch."

"It's not stupid." She said softly, serious as ever. "In fact, I think it's the most perfect career choice for you. You're so talented."

"Really? You really think so?" he asked her, wanting to be sure she wasn't just saying it.

"Honestly, Sam. It's so right for you. And screw dyslexia, you can do it! Do you know how many people run marathons without legs or compose musical masterpieces without being able to hear a sound? Some of the greatest people in the world are noted for overcoming a disability and making careers out of it. What makes you any different?"

Tears came to his eyes when he heard her confidence in him. People always spoke of the amazing lengths he'd gone to win Mercedes back, but no one ever truly knew why. She was amazing in every sense of the word. Everything he did for her, every romantic gesture, had just been his effort to be equally as amazing for her. Here she was, listening to him talk of a career in writing, and she never once berated him and his chicken scratch or mentioned the fact that it took hours for him to read a book that took people of average ability minutes to devour. She just believed in him without question, saw who he would be instead of who he was.

"Thanks, Mercy." He softly whispered with rolling tears. "That means so much."

"Of course, Sam," she gently replied, affectionately brushing away his bangs. "I believe in you, love. Now tell me another, I'm enamored now."

He smiled and cleared his throat, looking to the stars as he thought of another one. "Well….I'm strongly considering UCLA."

"UCLA?!" she exclaimed, squealing like mad as she hugged him. "Baby, that's my college! Are you sure? You're not doing this for me, are you? Because if you are, we will go and find another college pronto! I am not having anyone follow anyone for love, even if it's for me!" He chuckled at her abrupt sass, shushing her with a wag of his finger.

"I'm doing it for me, babe. They have a great program, the college is right in Los Angeles, perfect for what I want to do, and it's a great area for surfing. You being there is just added incentive." He assured her, dusting the edge of her bangs with his fingers. "I'm pretty sure it will be a great fit for me, too."

"I'm so glad you've figured it out." She smiled. "Now I guess it's my turn, huh?"

"Yup!" he exclaimed with a smack of his lips. "Whip it on me!"

"Hmmm..." Sam waited patiently for her response, enamored with the adorable way she tapped her small, brown finger on her pert chin. "Oh, I know! Hold on."

Sam sat up when she crawled over to the tree trunk and shoved all of her toys aside, obviously searching for something.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, pulling out her satchel bag. Flipping it open, she fished around until she pulled out a medium sized composition book, decorated with images of Van Gogh's painting, _Starry Night. _"Remember over summer, when I showed you all the loose papers I had scattered about with my poems and song lyrics, and you told me I should just get a book and keep them all in there so I don't lose them?"

"Yeah?" he answered, eyeing the book.

"And remember how stubborn I was about actually following through with it because I thought it would somehow hinder my creative flow?"

"How stubborn you _were_?"

She shot him a long suffering look. "Don't start with me, Evans. I have a point to reach." Grinning, she scooted back down to him, resting her book against his chest as she leaned against her hand. "I wrote them all in there after you left. All of my Grammy winning material is recorded in those pages."

Sam picked it up and flipped through, smiling at the sight of words he knew and pausing to read the ones he wasn't familiar with. "What's this one? It's the newest recording."

She smiled fondly, taking the book and running gentle fingers over the pages. "That's a poem I wrote after you left, before you came back to McKinley. After you, I didn't feel inspired anymore. It was the last poem I wrote about us."

"Read it to me?" he asked, smoothing the rise of goose bumps on her forearm with his thumb. "I'd love to hear it."

"Okay, but you can't laugh either. Deal?" she asked, staring him down.

Sam knew he wouldn't, but he closed his eyes and silently nodded, playing along. "I swear on Vader's grave, I won't."

Mercedes wanted to comment on the fact that he'd just sworn on the death of a fictional character, but her nerves got the better of her. Her writings were very intimate and personal, and she always felt a bit naked sharing them with anyone, especially with Sam, right now, when the very words on the page were about her feeling for him.

Taking a shaky breath, she closed the book and closed her own eyes, reciting the poem from heart memory.

**There are some nights when I think of you  
>And cry unworthy tears<br>To ease the press of my heart, perhaps  
>Or silently voice my fears<br>We all have our time in the midst of gray  
>My world is much duller when you're away<br>And in my gloom, I think of you  
>And cry unworthy tears<strong>

**There are some nights, when I remember,**  
><strong>And laugh with unchecked glee<strong>  
><strong>Recounting-in my head of course,<strong>  
><strong>The smiles you gave to me<strong>  
><strong>The silly mindless games we played<strong>  
><strong>The way you thrashed and shook and flayed<strong>  
><strong>The things you said!-oh, I remember<strong>  
><strong>And laugh with unchecked glee<strong>

**There are some nights, when I imagine,**  
><strong>And sigh a heady sigh<strong>  
><strong>Wishing on stars and praying to God<strong>  
><strong>That hopes would make me fly<strong>  
><strong>Above the clouds, where lovers go<strong>  
><strong>Where hearts roam free and lips move slow<strong>  
><strong>And time is ours-I imagine<strong>  
><strong>And sigh a heady sigh<strong>

**When sleep won't come, I sit by the fire**  
><strong>Imagine it's warmth as your arms, and retire<strong>

"That was beautiful." He breathed, opening his eyes to kiss her soundly. "That was for me?"

"All for you," she answered. "I thought of putting it to music, but I just couldn't find it in me to make it a song for the public. It was just for your ears."

"Thank you," he whispered, saying all he wanted to say in his gaze.

"You're welcome," she replied with a nod, understanding the silent messages completely.

After a pause, and a flutter of breeze wafting between their close lips, Sam asked her again, "Tell me another."

"Purple's not my favorite color anymore," she quietly answered.

He gave a soft, surprised gasp. "The color of all colors has been removed from its number one spot in Mercedes Jones heart? The very idea!" he exclaimed in a hushed voice. "What is it now?"

Mercedes cupped the side of his face in her hands, pressing more of her body against him as she swept back his bangs with a run of her fingers.

"Green," she replied, smiling. "The loveliest shade of jade with just a soft hint of brown and flecks of gold. That's the color in my heart now."

He kissed her nose at her answer, running his lips up to her eyes and kissing each eyelid. "I guess it's my turn then, huh?" he murmured against her skin.

"Mmhmm," She hummed, kissing his chin and the soft downy hair that covered it. "What's changed with you?"

"I've found a new favorite super hero," he whispered, leaning his head back to see her eyes. "And she's stronger than Super Man and the hulk, more badass than Batman and Storm combined, and braver than the entire Justice League put together."

"Santana?" she teased coyly, wrinkling her nose and grinning like mad.

"Just shut up and Spider-Man kiss me, Woman." He replied, matching her smile. She scurried above him and covered his face with the flowy hem of her blouse, rolling it back just enough to reveal his mouth.

"My hero," he crooned in a southern belle voice, causing Mercedes to laugh just before she leaned down and joined her lips with his in an upside down kiss.

**O-O**

Donovan had just returned to his locker after an intensive workout session in the school gym, working out some of the tension of the day. Being a jock gave him the advantage of longer hours of equipment use, and after today, he took full advantage of the benefits.

He had just retrieved his books and loaded them in his backpack when he heard a scraping sound behind it. Turning around and finding no source of the sound, he shrugged it off and closed his locker, dismissing it as a trick of the ear or a bustling student. Just as he turned, before he could blink, Donovan was tackled to the floor and wrestled down by a tan, hairy arm. His arms were tied up before he got the chance to swing, and the brief vision of his attackers' faces were shrouded by a dark cloth tied around his eyes.

"What the hell?!" he screamed, opening his mouth wide enough to be gagged and taped closed.

The voices said nothing, just carried his hands and feet to an unknown destination in utter silence. Judging by the feel of hands on him, there were six people holding him and carrying him around, six pairs of hands shoving him into a chair and holding him down. He heard a door close and felt the wafting of a cool breeze on his cheek. Judging from the short distance they walked and the overwhelming smell of chalk and paper, he knew they were in a classroom. Why the hell had they taken him?!

"MMMMMHPHHHPPHH!" Donovan protested underneath the gag and tape, wiggling wildly in his chair. A set of hands on either side of him pushed him back down by the shoulders, shutting him up with a hard slap to the face.

"What's the matter, shit face?" said a voice. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Or maybe cock got your tongue? Is that it?" said another voice. "Have to cover up all the time you spend on your knees sucking guys off by attacking innocent girls? That it?"

_So this was about Mercedes._ His cheeks rose in a bit of a smile. If he could speak, he would tell them that she had it coming and how much she wanted it.

One of them must have seen his grin, for he felt another hand sting his cheek with a slap.

"Oh hell no! Your punk ass is smiling? You got the nerve to smile after all this, you psycho?" He felt the presence beside him turn away. "Yo man, let's hurry up and handle this, because he's already pissing me off and I'm itching to pummel his ass."

He felt the presence move from beside him, followed by a steady creaking of metal. Where those…._wheel sounds?_

"Alright man, I got you," said another voice, lower and deeper than the other two. "Look punk ass, this is what's gonna happen. You hurt one of our girls and terrorized her. A threat to her is a threat to us, and I _don't_ take threats lying down, feel me?"

Donovan shuddered at the feel of metal against his cheek, scraping his skin with tiny, sharp edges of stone as it glided down.

"So this is what's gonna happen. We're gonna do something you didn't and actually give you options," said the angry voice, sounding like the voice he'd just heard before the deeper one. "Option one is we beat your ass slowly, one at a time, until each of us is tired and satisfied. Option two is a quick beat down from all six of us at once, coming from all directions, until we all collectively decide we've had enough and let you go."

"Can't we just do both? Start off slow than end it quick? I'd rather have that," asked another voice, heavy with an accent Donovan's untrained ear couldn't quite place. Was it British? Scottish?

"You know what? You couldn't be more right! It's settled." said the other voice, coming closer to him with the squeak of turning metal following him.

"You're pretty ass is getting it all, start to finish, until you scream bloody murder," growled the deeper voice, flanking his left.

"And just in case you decide to scream for help, we've brought a little solution." Fearful now, Donovan squirmed more wildly as he heard the heavy clang of an object hit the desk beside him. When the voice to his right clicked a button and music played, he realized that it was a boom box, blasting some type of rock/pop song.

"How does it feel to scream out your ass and be left stranded? Have music and fists cover up your cries?" Another voice spat in his ear. Cowering and crying, Donovan shook his head in protest and bellowed pleas from his belly, begging and moaning for mercy.

"Don't bother, Donnie. Ain't nobody listening but the birds." The voice to his right growled. "So why don't you sit back and enjoy the badass vocals of Michael Jackson while we beat your ass to a bloody pulp?"

The remaining five sets of hands audibly cracked their fists. Donovan struggled and cried out with everything in him, but the hand near his right just turned up the music to the max and blasted it in his ear.

Echoing in the quiet deserted hallway, the hard bass of Michael Jackson's _Threatened_ shook the lockers and rattled the fluorescent lights, effectively covering even the faintest sounds of a boy screaming for dear life and the swinging and pummeling of fists.

**O-O**

**And yes, to answer your question, I did write that poem that Mercedes read to Sam. I thought it would be fitting for the moment and felt led to share. Like my poetry skills? Love the chapter to pieces? Wish there were more? **

**Review your opinions and thoughts! They help me develop the story even more. **


	21. Chapter 20 Progress

**A/N: Good news and bad news, folks. The bad news is that, while this update is important, this is very, very much a filler chapter. I have the real chapter I wanted to write outlined and planned and ready to go, but the words wouldn't come. With school starting and life stress, my mind was focused on other things. I managed to scrounge up this one for you guys in the meantime, because I understand the torture of the wait. Also, I love you guys with a passion. =)**

**The good news? Samcedes smut!**

**Say whaaaattt?**

**You heard me! (you're welcome*wink*)**

**Hope you enjoy! And as always, tell me what you think! Also, tell me if you prefer the shorter chapters or the longer ones. I've done both, and while the long ones are lovely in the midst of an update wait, it can be a bit much to digest. Shorter ones are more concise and usually easier to keep track of, but some of you like 'em long! (no pun intended)**

**Let me know, lovelies!**

**O-O**

"I'm telling you Pat, the whole thing doesn't sit right with me. I knew we should've gone with the restraining order just in case McMann decided to pull a fast one, but you insisted his suspension would be enough."

"I foolishly thought it would be. So much for my faith in the system," replied Mrs. Jones, rolling her eyes as she took the whistling kettle off the stove and poured the boiling water over her tea bag. Closing her eyes and taking a comforting whiff of the soothing scent of peppermint, her shoulders visibly relaxed and she felt centered enough to continue. "How in the hell did they dismiss the case without telling us? Don't we have a say?"

"You are so lucky to have me representing you guys, Pat. You know I don't take shit lying down." A.D.A Amelia Johnson wasn't only one of the top black attorneys this side of Lima, she was a close family friend of the Joneses with a personal vendetta against anyone who felt they were above the law. Veritas wasn't just another pretty Latin word to emblazon on the picture frame surrounding her Yale Law degree, it was her life mission. It was the reason she turned down several well-paying jobs in large cities to return to her hometown, where the corruption held a personal sting. She was a child of '60s Ohio, during a time when "nigger" would be used before her name and the color of her skin made her a constant walking target for profiling, police brutality and legal entanglement. Much has changed in her lifetime, but the unspoken camaraderie between the rich, white, educated elite in the small town had shifted very little, and she deemed it her life's mission to expose the corruption in their legal system. Naturally, Judge McMann was a prime target and she jumped on the case as soon as she heard the name Donovan and identified him as the judge's son.

"I have a buddy on the force who had a hand in the case look into some things for me. Now, while I don't have the evidence on hand yet, my sources tell me that both the physical and sexual assault were recorded in the police report, but only the physical assault made it onto the captain's desk for review. And certain details of the case have been omitted from the final report. Also, the judge that oversaw our case has been a constant in Donovan's life for years for other alleged crimes he'd done in the past. I don't have any information on his previous charges since his record was expunged once he turned eighteen, but I do know for a fact that that he always left that courtroom a free man, either through settlements out of court or dropping of charges. And all court cases were conducted by the _same judge._"

"Meaning what exactly?" asked Mrs. Jones, although she'd already pieced the puzzle together. She needed to hear it confirmed.

"Meaning we have some sneaky people in high places working things out to their advantage, that's what," answered the irate attorney in a seething tone. "We are gonna have to pull out the big guns if we ever stand a chance of getting your daughter the justice she deserves. It's not just a sexual assault case anymore. We're talking about tearing down an entire ring of legal corruption. Oh, I can smell the blood already." Though she couldn't see her, Mrs. Jones knew the older woman was grinning wickedly on the other end of the line.

"Can we handle this, Mel? It seems a bit over our heads, don't you think?" Mercedes strolled through the front door, practically floating across the foyer as she kissed her mother's cheek and greeted her with a dreamy smile. "Hey baby, how was your date?"

"Mom, is there another word that's better than perfect? Because that's exactly what tonight was. It was positively beyond wonderful," she answered in a far off voice, sighing as she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her lips in memory. "It was better than summer."

"Oh honey, I'm so glad. I'm on the phone with Amelia right now." Mercedes frowned at the lawyer's name. A call at this late hour either meant bad news or extremely bad news and she wanted no part of it now. The day had already been an emotional upheaval. She wanted to end it on the positive note of her date with Sam, not sully it with discussion about her attack.

"Mom, can we not do this tonight? Please?" Mrs. Jones was still caught up in the lawyer's rant about justice and tearing down the corrupt infrastructure of the legal system, so she didn't answer right away. "Mom?"

"What, honey? I'm sorry, you were saying?" Her response was light, but her face still had the concerned, pensive look she had whenever she was engrossed in Mercedes' case. She was already exhausted by the thought of talking to her lawyer and her mother about today's events and Donovan. Mercedes made her way up the stairs and left the two adults to their legal discussion.

"Never mind, Mommy. Talk tomorrow?"

Mrs. Jones mutely nodded in her direction, still distracted as she made her way to the living room and continued her discussion on the couch.

Mercedes threw her bag of trinkets on her bed and plopped herself face first into her pillow, sighing as the unsettling feeling of heaviness came back and washed over her previously happy mood. Just when she decided to give Sam a call to cheer herself up, her phone vibrated in her pocket with a text alert. She fished out her phone and grinned when she realized it was from Sam.

_Hey beautiful, _

_It's been less than five minutes since I've seen you. Miss me as much as I miss you?_

_I can't wait for tomorrow, and the next day, and the next….. =)_

_XOXOXO_

_Sam_

Mercedes clutched the small phone to her chest and squealed, kicking her legs in the air and rocking side to side in her bed like some giddy schoolgirl stereotype getting a love note from her crush. She couldn't help it. He was amazing! Their whole date felt like a script from a movie.

Quickly, she sat up and texted him back, bouncing on the bedsprings in glee with every click of her thumb against the keys.

_Hey yourself handsome, _

_I've thought about you and our date every second since I've been home. I can't wait for tomorrow either. I felt like such a princess today. _

_I love you, Sammy. Promise me you'll write a story about us someday and make it into a famous movie like the notebook? Lol _

_XOXOXO, _

_Mercy_

Her phone buzzed back less than a minute after she sent her message.

_You are a princess, Mercy. You deserve to always be treated like one. I'm glad I could make it special for you. I love you more than words._

_The Notebook? Aren't they old and die at the end? No, I'm gonna make a comic book about us, and we're gonna have superpowers and battle side by side, saving the world with our awesomeness. Lol _

_You're already my hero, anyway. Why not become the world's hero, too? Man, our uniforms are gonna be so kickass when I design them!_

_Xoxoxo,_

_Your future husband and comic writing geek_

_P.S. _

_Thanks for believing in my dream. It meant so much._

She chuckled at his reply, absentmindedly fingering her false ring at his mention of being her future husband. Smiling softly, she replied with one last text and placed her phone on the nightstand, changing into her pajamas and getting ready for bed.

_A comic book?! I love that even more, baby! You're gonna be so amazingly talented at what you do, I just know it. I might have to have you promise me first picture on the red carpet when you're big and famous!_

_And P.S. right back,_

_I'll always believe in you, whatever you decide to do. I've got you and you've got me, baby. Together we'll conquer the world. Goodnight, my love._

_Your future wife_

After she brushed her teeth and washed her face free of makeup, she turned out the lights and snuggled under her covers, checking her phone one last time before she went to sleep. As expected, Sam replied back with his last text.

_You'll have the first picture, the first walk, the first everything! You'll even be the first name I thank right after I win my first award. Mama might be pissed, but I don't care. I'll call her first in the next one. =)_

_One last P.S.?_

_I don't need to conquer the world. You are the world to me. If it's you and me forever, I'll consider it a success. Goodnight right back, love. Sweet dreams and peaceful thoughts. Don't let anyone take away your smile, not me or HIM or anyone else. Your joy is your strength. _

_Sammy_

Mercedes smile faltered a bit at his timely message. How does he always know when to say what she needs to hear?

Deciding to follow his advice, she plugged in her phone and hugged her pillow, falling asleep with thoughts of her wonderful night at the carnival and the one man who made the evening magical. And just like he'd asked, a content smile graced her lips the entire night.

**O-O**

After the huge uproar on Monday, the rest of the week went by deceptively quiet and easy. The residual adrenaline from the confrontation carried over into Tuesday, and the glee members returned to school with fighting spirits, eager to tackle Nationals stress head on. By Wednesday, the group had two song choices, costumes, and most of their choreography down, coming up with the idea to incorporate kickboxing and tae kwon do style moves into their routine thanks to Blaine's ingenious offer teach Mercedes self-defense. It was decided that they would all train together, using the time as both exercise in preparation for Nationals and a way to learn a useful skill to protect themselves. Blaine was grateful for the opportunity to let his skills shine and to give something back to his adopted glee family. It made him feel even closer to the group.

Tuesday was also the day Sam started his personal therapy sessions and Mercedes resumed her own, much to everyone's delight. Erin and the girls welcomed her back with open arms and Bee commended her on her decision to return to the circle. Many girls had come and gone, but very few had the courage to return when they felt they needed it, and Bee praised Mercedes's decision to continue healing in a therapeutic environment that could really help her. When Mercedes explained her reasons for leaving and the glee club's involvement in her return, Bee insisted that she meet the wonderful people that supported her journey and thank them. Bee, Erin, and some of the girls joined them during Wednesday's rehearsal, and for the first time Mercedes's two families were able to meet and know each other. It was a huge relief to not have to keep her assault a secret anymore, and the two families got along swimmingly, laughing and enjoying each other's company like old friends. Some of the girls from the circle even developed an interest in helping glee club with Nationals, through financial support, help with costume and tech prep, or any way else they could. New Directions insisted that they be a part of it all, on the small condition that they could somehow repay the small act of kindness in the future. Bee and the girls happily agreed. By Friday, the costumes were nearly finished, the choir room had a new set of instruments donated by one of the girls in the group, and numbers were exchanged to keep in touch long after the school year was over.

Sam and Mercedes's relationship grew stronger than ever. Night after night, date after date, they rediscovered the passion and intimacy of their relationship. Kisses went beyond the lips, touches roamed and grew bolder, and the comfort to explore each other sexually soared to new heights. It all finally came to a head during their impromptu date on the beach Saturday night, when the moon was full and the waves crashed against the shores in a lover's paradise…..

_Mercedes had planned a weekend away trip to visit the UCLA campus and take in the big city sights, since she would be a regular resident of the big city in less than five months. Her parents insisted that they attend the campus tour, even packed their bags in advance, but Mercedes dreaded their presence, knowing for a fact that they would spend the entire trip taking far too many pictures in front of less than stellar tourist attractions and crying over how quickly "their baby" had grown up. Tried as she might though, she couldn't find a legitimate replacement to go with her. _

_That is, until Sam gently reminded her that he planned to attend UCLA as well and emphasized how grateful his parents would be if he could get a free trip to see the campus grounds with "someone they trusted." _

_It was a win-win._

"_Sam, you're getting salt water in my eye!" whined Mercedes, splashing him back blindly after his counterattack clouded her vision. "If you mess my weave up, I'm gonna kill you!" _

"_Relax, High maintenance Jones, your precious hair is perfectly safe." Deadpanned Sam, sending another large wave of salty sea water her way that said otherwise. "It's in a bun, isn't it?" College tour long over, the two teens decided to visit the infamous Cali beaches and enjoy the warm weather and soothing waves._

_Well, what should have beensoothing waves, until Sam had the brilliant idea to start a splash wave war._

"_It doesn't mean it won't get wet! Especially with your huge hand sweeping waves over my short head!" Mercedes felt around her straight bun, gasping in horror at the wet, wavy tip of loose hair dangling in the back. The section was as large as her palm. "Damnit, Sam! It did get wet! I knew I shouldn't have come in the water with you! I just wanted a nice, sandy beach date, snuggled up under next to a bonfire while we roasted marshmallows, but no." she sassed, "You insist we go for a swim!" _

"_What's the point of wearing that sexy bathing suit if I won't get to see it wet?" Sam reasoned in a buttery soft voice. He swam over to her and pulled her in for an apology kiss, pulling back once he felt her smile and taking the moment to lasciviously eye her peak of cleavage, glistening with beads of sea water under the moonlight. "Mmm….it's white and see through and everything…."_

"_What?! It is? No way…" Mercedes lifted her breasts from the water, moaning in embarrassment at the tell-tale peek of her dark areolas+_

_through the lycra fabric. "Damnit! The salesgirl told me they'd sewn a panel in this! I knew I should have checked. I'm gonna go back there and wring her neck! Then, I'm gonna demand my money back and get a new suit, with proper padding sewn in the fabric thank you very much!"_

"_Whoa, whoa, Easy Diva." Joked Sam, rubbing her damp shoulders. "It's not like it's a total waste. I mean…I'm definitely enjoying the view." He grinned seductively, running his soaked blonde locks away from his face and pulling her in for a searing kiss. Mercedes stiffened a bit at the sudden intrusion of his tongue and the warm feel of his bare chest against her almost bare breasts, but his arms around her calmed her tension and she allowed herself to succumb to passion. Sam's tongue wrapped lovingly around hers and pulled her deeper, tilting his head and pushing against the small of her back to devour every last bit of her he could manage. She responded in kind, running her French tips down his slick back in need and hopping up to wrap her legs around his waist and hug his shoulders. They had gradually gotten farther than they ever had before with their kisses, since Wednesday when an intense make out session on the porch led to ass palming and crotch rubbing, and today proved no different. Sam grabbed her ass freely and Mercedes already had a hand down the seat of his swim trunks, twirling her fingers in the downy patch of pubic hair just above his penis. If they continued, she was sure to feel something a lot harder and longer graze her knuckle, so he pulled away from her lips before they crossed boundaries. _

"_Babe, I think we should stop." Panted Sam, resting his forehead against hers to keep contact while his body cooled down. "I don't think I can…we're not ready for..if we go on…"_

"_I know, I feel it too." She breathed back, lips leaning back to his without thought and running back and forth against his skin to lick away the beach water. "We should go back to shore." _

"_Yeah, we should….." he paused and groaned, feeling the swipe of her tongue on his bottom lip. His own pink tongue darted out a second after, barely missing the tip of hers as he grazed her plump pout. "We should go…" _

"_You have to put me down and let me go first, baby." She whispered in his ear. Her voice so sweet and melodic, so low and bedroom lovely and erection stirring, that he almost did the exact opposite. Instead, his head ruled out and he slowly lowered her back to her feet in the water. He placed much needed space between them as soon as her feet flattened on the sandy shallow floor, still wary of his own control when it comes to her body. _

"_I'm gonna go set up the fire." He told her, clearing his throat of the seductive, horny gravel his voice took on. "Race you to the shore?" _

_She watched his slow retreating form and charming wink, following close behind him with a doggy paddle as they moved toward the beach. As soon as he saw her get closer, he stood up and ran as quickly as the resistance of the water would allow. Before he left the water, she jumped on his back in an attempt to tackle him down, but he surprised her with his strength and ran with her, bouncing her on his back all the way to their spot on the beach. _

"_You cheated, Evans! You cheated!" she yelled, laughing. _

"_No cheating! It was tactic, remember?" he laughed back, reminding her of her own attempts at a race advantage. _

"_You put me down right now, cheater!"_

"_Never, Mercy." He replied, hoisting her up higher by her thighs. "I promised I wouldn't let go, remember?" _

_She poked her tongue out at him childishly, feigning annoyance, then rested her head against his shoulder, allowing herself to be held and carried. Feeling a small pull near her nape, she realized that her messy bun held a bit too tightly for her liking. Ruined hair no longer important, she released her bun and shook out her wavy ebony tresses, letting it all spill over her shoulders and soak up excess water beading on her bare back. _

_Sometimes, there were more important things, like feeling your boyfriend's shoulder against your cheek as he held you. _

_After a quick set up around a fire site and a brief tinkering with the lighter, they sat next to a roaring campfire a good distance away from the waters, her in his lap as she played soft music on the strings of his guitar. _

"_Okay, how about this one?" she strummed one chord after the next as slowly she could without ruining the song, careful to guide her novice fingers to play the right notes as Sam listened intently and made his gues._

"_Isn't that 'The Sweetest Thing' by Lauryn Hill? You used to play that song all the time in your car and on our trips to the lake." He grinned in victory when she sucked her teeth and pouted. _

"_Damn, I forgot about that! I was sure that one would've thrown you off! You know too much about me, that's why you're winning." She whined, playfully poking his cheek. _

"_You pick all the obvious ones!" he retorted with a smile. "The point of guess this song is to outwit your opponent with your musical knowledge. You gotta use strategy, woman!"_

"_Fine, how about this one?" She played a faster melody, plucking each note one by one and grinning when his face scrunched in confusion. _

"_What the hell is that?" he asked in a frowning chuckle, mind drawing a blank. _

"_What? You give up? It's one of your favorites!" she asked in shock, still obviously losing sight of the objective of the game. "I thought you'd get that one for sure."_

"_Well, you've stumped me. What was that?" _

_Her cheeks warmed, coloring her shy grin with a faint rim of crimson. "The Thong Song."_

"_That's what that was? That sounded nothing like that! How in the hell do you play The Thong Song on guitar?" he chortled, holding her tighter around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. _

"_It's possible! I learned it on YouTube!"_

"_Oh god Mercedes, not YouTube…"_

"_Hey, do not diss YouTube." she sassed in a flat voice. "Lots of great stuff to learn on there. Listen again, I bet you'll hear it this time now that you know what I'm playing." And, loathe as he was to admit it, the chorus to' The Thong Song' came across clearer on his second listen, once he mentally added the words._

"_Wow, you're right. Not bad!" he complimented, tucking her sea-induced waves over her right ear to kiss her cheek. "You have been practicing! You sound a lot better than summer."_

"_Why thank you!" she beamed, pressing a quick kiss to his salty lips instead. "I had a great teacher. Besides, I said I was gonna learn how to play guitar and I meant it. Even wrote an acoustic song or two for when I get really good." _

"_Is that right, my little Taylor Swift?" he lightly teased, relishing her responding eye roll. "Well, you're gonna have to play them for me sometime." _

"_Maybe I will." She replied in the same light tone, rubbing her smooth cheek lightly against his scruff as she continued playing. Sam watched her in her element, in awe of how sexy she looked handling his guitar. Maybe it was the wet feel of her bare thighs pressed against his own or the way her shorter frame settled perfectly and securely in his arms, or perhaps it was the sight of her in nothing but a white halter one-piece covered only by a matching off the shoulder shift, but Sam couldn't stop the stirrings in his swim trunks over his alluring girlfriend. He gently rested his longer fingers over hers to still her movement. _

"_May I play one for you?" he offered in a gentle voice, moving her hand to the curve of the body before she could answer. Mercedes hadn't spoken since she started playing, but it was only because her mind had drifted to things far more sinful as she rested on his lap. Maybe it was his bare chest against her exposed back, soaking her shift with drops of salty ocean water. Perhaps it was the possessive way he pulled her close and held her in his arms, almost as if he were guarding her body with his own. Or maybe it was the slight hardening of him pressing against the thin lycra fabric guarding her vaginal lips. After their brief encounter in the ocean, everything about him had suddenly left her speechless and very, very warm. And in order to play, Sam had to wriggle around a bit on the sand to get himself situated, a move that they both discovered only turned up the heat between them to an unquenchable inferno. He only hardened more underneath her, and she was sure he could feel the fresh moisture pooling between her legs and knew enough to know that her bathing suit had dried long ago._

_Sensing the change in the air, Sam began playing the first song that came to mind, distracting himself and their sudden urges momentarily with the mellow croon of his voice. _

_Oceans apart day after day  
>And I slowly go insane<br>I hear your voice on the line  
>But it doesn't stop the pain<em>

_If I see you next to never_  
><em>How can we say forever<em>

_Wherever you go_  
><em>Whatever you do<em>  
><em>I will be right here waiting for you<em>  
><em>Whatever it takes<em>  
><em>Or how my heart breaks<em>  
><em>I will be right here waiting for you<em>

_I took for granted, all the times_  
><em>That I thought would last somehow<em>  
><em>I hear the laughter, I taste the tears<em>  
><em>But I can't get near you now<em>

_Oh, can't you see it baby_  
><em>You've got me going crazy<em>

_Wherever you go_  
><em>Whatever you do<em>  
><em>I will be right here waiting for you<em>  
><em>Whatever it takes<em>  
><em>Or how my heart breaks<em>  
><em>I will be right here waiting for you<em>

_I wonder how we can survive_  
><em>This romance<em>  
><em>But in the end if I'm with you<em>  
><em>I'll take the chance<em>

_Wherever you go_  
><em>Whatever you do<em>  
><em>I will be right here waiting for you<em>  
><em>Whatever it takes<em>  
><em>Or how my heart breaks<em>  
><em>I will be right here waiting for you<em>  
><em>Waiting fo-<em>

_He didn't get the chance to finish. Mercedes pushed the guitar off her lap and reached up to rake her fingers through his hair, bringing him in for the softest, hungriest of kisses. She parted his lips with her own and boldly offered her tongue, mingling and swirling with his in the meeting of their mouths. Sam paused, allowing the moment to sink in, then responded with just as much emotion, pushing back against her lips with all the passion and desire stirring in his belly. Out of habit, he gripped her waist and roamed across the expanse of her stomach, but Mercedes moaned in protest and silently moved his hands further south, kneading them on her thighs and sliding them up her shift and between the heat of her parting thighs. _

_They pulled apart at the same time, eyes roaming wildly over the other's face to read their reaction and sense their want. _

"_You sure, baby?" he panted, licking his lips in eagerness to continue. _

_She panted just as strongly and nodded, following her urge to grind against him. He closed his eyes briefly and groaned, sucking in his lips and trying his hardest to wait for her lead. _

"_Yes, Sam." She whispered in dire need. "Maybe not all the way, but…." She met his gaze, hoping he'd understand and fill in the blanks. _

_Sam nodded. "Just tell me how far, baby." She shuddered in his hold and reached underneath his arms grip his biceps, running her hands slowly up the taut, warm flesh until she reached his shoulders. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and kissed her forehead, breathing hotly against her temple as he awaited instruction. After a moment, her small hands slid back down, slower than before, running over his elbows and down his hairy forearms until their fingers met and laced together. With the passing of another moment, she lifted his left hand with hers and spread the breadth of his hand over her rib cage, sliding his open palm across her belly and up her sternum until it rested on the space above her heart. He felt the moment the beat quickened, and with the slight squeeze of his fingertips, her heart raced at an alarming speed. He almost asked her if she wanted to stop, but then she moved his hand to cup her whole right breast and he mutely accepted her answer. _

"_Touch me here." She instructed, lining her fingers up between his and squeezing. "Feel me like this. I like when you squeeze me and…when you…" she demonstrated what she couldn't say, guiding his thumb back and forth across her nipple. _

"_When I touch your nipples like this?" he offered in her ear, toying with the nub on his own. "When I get them hard and stiff, when I play with them….that turns you on?" _

"_Y-yyes." She breathed, circling her hips in his lap from the excitement of his tender touches. He hadn't touched her breasts in months. "And when you-" Another moan escaped past her pressed lips when Sam circled her areola and pinched the puckered nubbin lightly between his fingers. _

"_W-was that okay?" he asked nervously, swallowing hard. "I didn't wait for you to say so." _

"_Yes, that was-it was what I-wanted-" _

"_Do you want me to do it again?"_

"_Mmmhmm." She hummed. He touched her with a surer hand, caressing the curve and peak of her breast over the fabric and exploring her with her fingertips. With a soft sigh, Mercedes leaned back fully against him and increased the pace, guiding him to squeeze a bit harder and circle a bit faster with her eager fingers. He nudged her cheek to get her to turn her face, initiating another kiss that matched the pace of his touches. _

"_Mmmm." She moaned eagerly in his mouth, enjoying the fire spreading across her chest and coursing through her body. "Baby, touch me here, too. I need it." She begged between kisses, sliding their right hands underneath the crotch of her bathing suit and running their fingers back and forth over her wet slit. _

"_Oh, baby." Sam growled, nibbling her bottom lip and rubbing their hands faster and faster between her legs. It was only when she eased his fingers inside her that he slowed down and took the time to enjoy the connection, the feel of her slippery essence on his fingers once more. Two fingers gently wriggled inside her at her guidance, stretching her and running across her walls just as gently as he pulled out and started all over. Soon, her legs were spread wide and tucked behind his, and she pushed him deeper and faster inside her. _

"_Sammy….you feel so good…" she moaned between their smacking lips. _

"_Mercy…..thank you….so wet…..so tight…." Their left arms twined together and locked across her chest, smushing the mounds of flesh together and pressing his front to her back with an unshakable hold as the fingers between her picked up speed. Soon, they couldn't kiss anymore. The need for air was too great. Their lip lock fell away in place of heady, loud panting and hard grinding of their hips. The pull of her pussy around his fingers grew stronger and stronger, quicker and more irregular, until her thighs snapped shut and she let out a high pitched squeak, trapping their hands between her legs as she came all over his hand and her bathing suit. _

"_Oh my gosh, I came." She said in wonder, gulping and breathing hard as they came down from their high. Sam hadn't gotten off, but she felt him slowly calm and soften underneath her after a few moments of grunting and teeth grinding. He looked up at her after a shuddering breath and beamed proudly, grinning like a madman. _

"_I made you come." He said in the same awe-struck tone. "And we're okay." _

"_We're okay!" she laughed, overjoyed. She turned slightly in his lap to kiss him properly, and added, "We're normal!" _

_Sam was too relieved to correct her. They were always normal, but that moment they'd shared, that very sexual, lust driven moment, was something that they hadn't allowed themselves in a very long time. That orgasm was a fear conquered and a promise of growth and future pleasures to come. He laid her down gently in the sand and nestled himself between her, kissing her lips and covering them both in sand and soot as they rolled around and enjoyed the newfound closeness they shared. _

All in all, the week couldn't have been more perfect. It seemed that all the problems of yesterday were distant memories and there was nowhere to go but up. Everyone was thriving in the wake of Monday's upheaval, our favorite couple was happy and more in love than ever, and all was well. There was absolutely nothing that they couldn't do, nothing that could bring them down. Sam, Mercedes, and the New Directions crew were convinced that they had finally gotten the upper hand and made progress. And they did.

That is, until the following Monday rolled around and snatched it all away from them…..

**O-O**

**Thoughts, Por Favor? **


	22. Chapter 21 Faith

**A/N: Okay, really brief author's note for this chapter, because there is so much crammed in this piece and I want you to be able to get right to it!**

**First, I heard your votes. Long chapters it is! It will take me a bit longer to update, but the updates will be nice and wordy and full of story development. You will leave satisfied. Lol **

**Second, thanks again to Jill for her amazing beta work. You are the peanut butter to my strawberry jelly. (Grape jelly is just icky to me, so….egh.) **

**Third, many thanks to you guys for being so patient and understanding. I love you all so very much. You are all awesome readers and the best support team a girl could ever ask for. **

**Lastly, Glee isn't mine. If it were, it would be the Samcedes show with a special two-episode guest starring of Finchel, if I felt like it. Just saying! **

**Enjoy! **

**O-O**

_17,27,22..then pull….Damn, that's not right. It still won't open.….Wait, it's 22, right? Or is it 21?...Mercedes did say it was 21 instead of 22 last time, right?..._

_Mercedes…. Wet Mercedes…Cali beaches….._

…_.. Wet Mercedes and Cali beaches and see-through bathing suit tops with hard, dark nipples….plump, slick thighs and fingers pumping in her wetness…._

Sam somehow managed to forget his locker combination again, the second time in a row since he'd returned to McKinley. But, unlike last time, he wasn't stressing over whether or not he was going to get Mercedes back. He wasn't worrying about whether or not she would choose him over Shane and be his girlfriend again.

No, this time, his thoughts were consumed with naughty images of the girl who was already his, a Mercedes that had already declared her love for him and allowed him to love her. Since their little tryst on the beach Saturday, Sam has been a horny, distracted mess over her, taking more chances with his touches when she was near and daydreaming of more chances to explore when she was away from him. That trip had reawakened the sexual side of their relationship in a mighty way and stirred up a hunger in them that they'd both suppressed for longer than they would care to think about. It tore away all the remaining bounds of their passion. It's the reason why her parents commented on their unusual meek silence and flushed cheeks early Sunday morning, after they had stopped three times on their drive from the airport to indulge in each other and arrived nearly two hours later than they should have. Needless to say, they ducked their heads in embarrassment and mild guilt during the Sunday afternoon service, when Pastor delivered a rather timely message on indulging in the carnal sins of the flesh. Despite the awkward return, they'd talked for hours Sunday night, well into Monday morning, discussing all the things they'd done that they needed to repent for, in delightfully explicit detail.

Yes, Sam was distracted and couldn't remember his locker combination. And he was damn happy about it, too.

He bit his bottom lip as he smiled; remembering one particularly delightful new noise Mercedes made when she was spread out against the steering wheel, bouncing her behind on his lap as she rode his fingers and gave him a show on the side of the freeway. "17, 27…"

"12." He heard the familiar sweet voice behind him say, finishing his combination number. "You should remember that. It's exactly how many bite marks there are on your neck."

His grin widened as he pulled the lock open, swinging open the door and running his hand over the small indentations of teeth covered by the collar of his shirt. He asked in his baritone whisper, "Only twelve, hmm?" He turned around to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her closer. She grinned back and fell into him, wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders.

"Mmhmm. I should know, shouldn't I? After all, I left them there." Peeling down the collar of his plaid cotton shirt, she exposed the first mark, just above his Adam's apple, and pressed a soft kiss over it. "There's one." She kissed his neck again, right over a spot just below the first. "And two,"she continued. Hearing his quiet moan, she ran the tip of her tongue over the spot above his carotid and nuzzled his soft skin, kissing yet another bite mark hidden by the small button undone near his collar. "And there's three. And four." She continued counting, finding another one below his clavicle. Knowing she couldn't go farther without going underneath his undershirt, she kissed his lips softly instead, adding, "That's all I've got so far, but I'm sure there are plenty more."

"I'm sure," answered Sam. "Remind me to count the hickeys on your chest when I take you home. If I can find at least twenty seven, I'll never have locker issues again." At her soft laugh, he initiated another kiss, pecking her lips twice near the end for good measure. "Good morning, my love."

"Yes, it is." Mercedes replied in a happy sigh, contently rubbing her wrinkled nose back and forth against his as she smiled and stared into his eyes. "It's a wonderful morning, delightful, even. This might be the morning to top all mornings."

"Oh really? And why is that?" asked a clever Sam, predicting her answer from the way her hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt and slid inside to run over his abs and pecs.

"I think I can show you better than I can tell you, Mr. Evans," Mercedes crooned with a rise of her brow, kissing his jaw and running her lips over the short stubble of his blond beard. "Or wasn't the seven hours on the phone last night enough of a clue?"

"Clue? You damn near spelled it out for me last night. And I _loved _it," praised Sam, wearing a naughty smile as his girl manhandled him in the hallway without any shame. "But if we want this morning to stay as good as it is, we can't be late for glee club. Puck already suspects something's up. The last thing I need is the entire glee club hearing our business."

"Damn pocket dialing. It always happens the moment you do something no one else should hear."She pulled away from him with a sigh. "But, you're right. We should go. It's not because I'm worried about Puck, because he knows I'll kick his ass for talking too much!" Sam laced his fingers with hers as he chuckled and shook his head at the mental image. "But I don't wanna miss rehearsal. Nationals is only two weeks away, and this is the most prepared we've ever been. I'm so excited!"

"Me too! Especially with choreography. We're gonna look so badass on stage!" Sam exclaimed, eyes sparkling with hopeful possibilities for nationals. "We've got this one down, guaranteed. Especially with your ingenious idea of a mash-up! May I just say, brava Ms. Jones. You better cover up a little. I think your greatness is showing. Don't want Rachel the bloodhound sniffing you out and marking her territory."

Mercedes pulled him off the lockers and bumped his shoulder, laughing as they strolled to the choir room. "Shut up! She's being nice now, so I've decided to withhold judgment. I'll give her a chance. If she says she is going to back off and let me have more of a say, I'm willing to believe her. Besides, did you see when I made that suggestion about the costumes? She almost said something, but wisely decided not to. That's progress."

"Maybe so." Sam mused. "All I know is that nobody is going to stand in your way if I can help it, whether it's Rachel or some other two bit talent who wants to steal some of your shine." Sam put on his best Patrick Swayze voice, pausing dramatically in the hall with a sexy squint. "Nobody puts baby in a corner."

"C'mon, you dork. It's almost time, " chuckled Mercedes, grabbing both of his arms and pulling him behind her, guiding his steps to the choir room. "They're probably already waiting."

"Hold on, just one thing." Sam stopped and turned her around, just before they reached the door. "I just…I've been thinking about something and had a question."

"Sure, you can ask me anything. Is it about your classes? How's calculus going? Is it still giving you a hard time? Because I found some awesome programs online that might help you. They even have games!" Mercedes offered kindly. Sam had been excelling in his tutoring lessons so far and had advanced well beyond his struggling peers. The tutors and teachers praised his sudden improvement and noted his sudden zest for learning. He'd proudly attributed his new drive to his parents and amazing girlfriend, who'd been his biggest support and help long before they had. And out of sheer habit (or perhaps familiar comfort), Sam occasionally went to his first tutor for advice, even when professional help was easily accessible to him. And Mercedes never once hesitated to help him, even when she was swamped with her own work.

"No, it's not that, but thanks for asking." He smiled, touched by her concern. "Remember the sermon on Sunday, when the preacher was talking about David and Bathsheba and how their little late night adulterous nookie started, like, this whole shit storm of other mess?"

Mercedes laughed incredulously at his choice of words, shaking her head in wonder. "Yeah, I remember something like that, although I don't think that's exactly how he said it."

"And remember the sermon two Sundays before, when he preached about the creation story and Adam and Eve, when they first discovered each other and got together?"

"Yeah, I guess." She frowned. "Why?"

"Well, in the bible, it says that David laid with her or whatever, which is, like, the same thing as saying he got some." He smiled at her dramatic eye roll, and then frowned in confusion. "But when it talks about Adam and Eve, the two people God made for each other, it says that he _knew _Eve. What's the difference?"

She shrugged, seriously pondering his question. "You know, I don't know. I've never thought about it before. Maybe it's like the difference between a quick roll in the hay and making love. It has more meaning, I suppose. There's love there."

"Then, why not say 'he loved her' or 'she gave himself to him'? Why do they say that he _knew_ her?"

"I don't know. Why is this so important to you?" She asked, turning the doorknob of the choir room door.

Sam's eyes softened toward her, watching the back of her head as she walked away from him and settled her things on one of the choir chairs.

"No reason," he answered lamely, more to himself than to her as he stood in the doorway. How could she understand how much it meant to him? How could he ever express how much he wished to give her more than his love, to surpass everything they've ever done, once she made the decision to give herself to him again?

Knowing seemed to mean more than loving or making love or giving love, but what was it exactly? Didn't he know everything about her already?

"Omigod…Sam…"

Sam rushed in when he saw her horrified expression and wide eyes. "What? What hap-?"

All of the instruments, including the piano and the bass, were smashed and shattered into a million splintered pieces of wood and metal and thrown haphazardly in the corner of the room. Hoards of sheet music littered the rest of the ground, some singed to piles of black ash, and others ripped to shreds, and covered with fluid that smelled like gasoline. The costume rack with all of glee club's Nationals outfits lay mangled on the ground near the choir chairs, next to the pile of now useless fabrics torn and cut to shreds. The walls were bare of every poster and decoration, with the exception of the dry erase board. The board was the only thing remaining, free of scribbles from marker, but stained with splotches of bright red paint dripping to the floor, spelling the word **MERCY** **WHORE **in all capital letters.

"Why won't they fucking leave us alone!" screamed Sam, angrily tossing over a row of chairs. Mercedes stood quietly and watched the horrid words run like blood and drip to the ground.

"Because they're not done," she said in a quiet voice, walking over to the board and catching a blood red droplet on her fingers before it hit the ground. "We were so naïve to think it was over."

"Don't worry, you two. I've already brought this to Figgins' attention. He's gonna see it and we're gonna handle this. This is vandalism at its absolute worst," declared Will, marching in and clasping his hands over Mercedes's shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Mercedes. I'm gonna do everything in my power to set this straight and rectify the situation."

"There is no rectifying it, Mr. Schue," she sullenly replied. "There is no setting it straight. They won't stop. There's nothing and no one that can stop them, not the police or the school system or threats…." Her eyes widened. "We were so naïve to think that a little push and shove in the hallway would end it all."

"I'm calling my parents and yours to tell them what happened. Then, we're gonna get you out of here. You don't have to stay here for this shit," Sam growled, pulling out his phone and dialing his mother's number with an angry huff. But before the call could go through, Tina walked a bleeding Mike through the doorway, balancing his weakened frame against her hip while simultaneously wheeling in a groaning Artie in a wheelbarrow.

"Mike! Artie! What happened to you two?!" Mr. Schue exclaimed, rushing in with Sam to assist Mike to a seat while Tina and Mercedes attended to the gash and bruises on Artie's face. "Tina?"

"Guys….jumped us…ambush…." Mike groaned, holding a torn piece of costume over his bleeding side.

"Mike picked me up today. My car was in the shop and he always gives Artie rides to school since he lives so close. We stopped over at the coffee shop to get Mike his morning latte and my green tea—he always buys me a cup when we have early glee rehearsals because he knows how much it perks me up—when these guys came out of nowhere and ambushed us." Tina frantically explained. "Mike tried to block me and got stabbed in the side. Two of the guys dumped Artie out of his chair and threw it into the bushes while the others kicked and punched him. I tried to stop it, but the biggest one held my arms and clasped his hand around my neck, forcing me to struggle and watch." Tina started to cry. "They took all of our money and credit cards. I couldn't carry them both, so I borrowed the janitor's wheelbarrow for Artie and rushed them in. The nurse's office was all the way on the other side and I didn't know where else to go! They were trying to hurt me and they stabbed Mike!" Her tears ran freely, watching her boyfriend groan in pain. "Baby, I'm so sorry."

"Not….fault…." Mike rasped in a groan, his breathing shallow. His eyes crossed and rolled back into his head just before he collapsed and slid into the seat.

"Sam, call 911 and request an ambulance. Then, go and tell Figgins everything that happened." Sam nodded and ran out with his phone in hand, briefly touching Mercedes's back as he passed. Mr. Schue turned to an unconscious Mike, keeping the pressure constant on his bleeding wound. "It's okay, Mike. You'll be okay."

"Mr. Schue?" The teacher turned to an anxious Mercedes. "There's something wrong with Artie, too. His breathing's not right."

Glancing back and forth between Artie's shallow, gasping breaths and Mike's unconscious body, Mr. Schue made a quick decision. "Quick, wheel him over so I can check his pulse." The girls pushed the wheelbarrow in his direction. Will pressed his fingers over his brachial pulse, sighing in mild relief when he felt a steady, strong beat. "Tina, grab another clean shred of fabric and hold it to Mike's wound until the ambulance arrives. This one is soaked in blood." Tina paled a bit at the sight of the rather large wound and bloodied cloth, but quickly sobered up and nodded. As she searched the pile on the ground, she realized that the fabrics came from their costumes. Confused, she looked around and realized for the first time that the choir room was in utter shambles. "Mr. Schue, what happened to the choir room?"

"No time now, Tina. I need you on wound duty." Will pointed in Mercedes direction. "Mercedes, go and get the rescue kit on the side wall. It has a bag valve mask. Secure it over his face with your thumb and index finger and pump every two seconds to help him breathe until the medics arrive."

Mercedes eased Artie out of the wheelbarrow and laid him on the ground, then ran to get the emergency equipment and did as he instructed. "Like this, Mr. Schue?"

"Perfect. I'm gonna run and get the nurse. Stay calm, okay? They're gonna be alright," he assured her, but Mercedes hardly heard him. She was running on auto-pilot as she frantically pumped. Artie's lips turned a pale shade of blue and his face grew ashen, draining of life by the second.

"Stay alive, Artie. Please stay alive." she chanted, pumping the bag of air harder as she cried. His chest rose and fell after each pump, but her friend had yet to start breathing on his own.

Thankfully, Mr. Schue brought in the nurse shortly after to take over, and while Mr. Schue took charge of Mike's bleeding wound, the two girls huddled together and hugged each other for comfort. Figgins and Sam ushered in the paramedics a few minutes later, and after a quick assessment and loading on to stretchers, the boys were whisked away to Lima General. The only evidence of their presence left behind were the cloths soaked with Mike's blood, which Mr. Schue quickly disposed of.

"Needless to say, glee club is cancelled for today," Mr. Figgins gravely declared. "Ms. Cohen-Chang, if you'd like, I will call your parents and let them know what happened. If you'd like, I will have someone drive you over to Lima General to see him."

"Yes, I'd like that very much." Tina said in a sob, following the principal out the door and into his office. Mercedes and Sam rubbed her shoulders as she passed, offering silent condolences.

"Someone should call Artie's folks." Sam thought aloud.

"I'll remind Figgins. Maybe even call them myself. They deserve to know what happened to their son." Will nodded and quickly ran out the door, leaving the two teenagers in each other's embrace.

"It was a random attack. It could have happened to anyone at any time." Sam said in the silence, reading her thoughts. "This was just…a coincidence."

"Was it?" Mercedes asked in her distress. "Do you honestly believe that two of our closest friends getting attacked on the same day our choir room was destroyed _in my name_ was a coincidence?"

"Honestly?" He shook his head. "Not in the slightest. But, we can't know for sure until we have proof. Jumping to conclusions will only stress us more, and we can't afford that."

Mercedes knew he was only being inclusive to be kind. She was the one who still had occasional panic attacks and bouts of screaming nightmares. Bee identified excess stress as a trigger and advised her to stay as calm as possible. Sam was trying to help her refocus, but seeing one friend bleeding and the other unresponsive magnified her stress to an unfathomable level.

"I can't breathe," she said and held a hand to her chest, backing out of his arms and into a chair as she gasped for air.

"Yes you can, Mercedes. Focus on your breaths," ordered Sam, rubbing her back in soothing circles and repeating their mantra. "In, two, three and out, two, three. C'mon."

Mercedes doubled over and nodded, doing her best to keep her breathing under control. "In…twothree…out…twothree…."

"Slower, Mercy."

"In, two, three." She sighed, relaxing as her pulse slowed and calmed and her breaths became controlled. "Out, two, three."

Sam huffed in relief, feeling less tense himself. "Better? A little bit?"

"A little," she replied weakly. "I won't be fully okay until I hear about them. I just….had a moment."

"I know. You're allowed, baby." He told her gently, continuing to rub her back as he held her against his chest. "I definitely wasn't expecting this, either. But, it'll all work out. We've just got to pray for them and hope for the best. When everyone else comes, we'll tell them what happened. Then, you can go home."

"You're not coming?!" she asked, looking up at him.

"Mercy, you know I can't. I've been absent way too much already," he explained. "Besides, it's more about you than me."

"But if we're right, they could hurt you, too!" Mercedes exclaimed. "I couldn't live with that, you know that, Sam. It will only make me worry even more."

"Hey, I can take care of myself." Sam said with a soft, comforting smile. "Besides, despite what we feel, we can't jump to conclusions. We don't know if Donovan and his idiots really did hurt Mike and Artie. Why would they target them? I mean, wouldn't they attack all of glee club if they were trying to get back at us?"

Like an answer from heaven, the rest of glee club burst through the door in hoards, all in different states of distress for very different reasons.

"I saw Mike and Artie being wheeled out of here! What happened? Did someone get shot?" asked a frantic Puck.

Rachel walked in right behind them, rubbing a bewildered looking Finn's shoulders in comfort. "Baby, don't worry so much. They have to know that those drugs were planted in your locker. You've never tested positive for anything!"

"Yeah, but this has happened before. When it happens a second time, you start looking suspicious. Coach already took me off the team because she didn't want to risk it." His frown deepened. "Who would do this to me?" Looking up, he finally noticed the state of disarray in the room. "Omigosh, what happened in here?! It looks like a cyclone ran through this place!"

"Oh…my…gosh…" Rachel did an entire 360 spin, glancing around as if she was seeing the room for the first time. "Who would do this to us?!"

"Oh Mercedes…" Sugar gasped, being the first to notice the painted message on the wall. Rachel gasped as well, clasping her hands over her mouth as she stared at the board. She turned to look in Mercedes's direction, asking, "Did he…? I mean.." She faltered, fumbling for words to tastefully ask her about her attacker. "Was this…for you?"

"Yes, it was." Mercedes eyes watered as she looked around for the second time. "This is entirely my fault."

"Hey…" Sam tried to comfort her, but he was interrupted by a fumbling Santana and Brittany bustling through the doors.

"Quick, I need a trashcan or bucket or something." Rachel hurried to grab the nearest waste can and shove it in Santana's direction, just in time for the Latina to empty the contents of her stomach inside of it.

"I don't feel so good," Brittany groaned, swaying on her feet beside her girlfriend before feeling her own wave of nausea. Quickly looking around, she spotted a nearby mop bucket in the corner and sprang toward it, bending over and heaving up everything in her.

Quinn ran in the room shortly after, holding two cool towels. "Here, hold this over your foreheads and take these." The girls took the pills and bottles of water she offered, swallowing it down with a grimace as they rested the cold towels on their foreheads.

"Why aren't you sick?" asked Brittany, moaning from the ache in her muscles when she tried to sit up.

"Whatever you guys ate or drank, I didn't touch. But you guys and three other girls on the squad have the same symptoms. They've been throwing up for longer than you have. Some of them started puking up blood." She took the bottles from them and capped them closed, resting them on the ground beside them. "I'm gonna go find the nurse and see if she can come over. Apparently, it's been a busy day for her."

Looking up to Sam and Mercedes, she added, "Speaking of busy day and the nurse, what happened to Artie and Mike? And …the choir room?" She frowned in confusion. "What went on in here?"

Kurt and Blaine walked in shortly after, gasping aloud as soon as they entered the room.

"Ohhhh myyyy gooooshh!" Kurt shouted. "What the hell happened here?!"

Rachel sniffled from the ground, holding up a small pile of chipped wood, broken bass strings, and sparkly fabric. "Blaine! Kurt, look!"

The couple gasped louder, dropping to their knees over the mangled pieces of instrument and torn costumes lining the floors.

"They….they broke them all. They destroyed everything! The sheet music, the drums!" Blaine gasped, walking over on his knees to the black and white keys strewn in the rubble. "The piano! They hacked it! Kurt!"

"Not now, Blaine! Can't you see I'm broken!?" Kurt grabbed fistfuls of the colorful ruins, lifting them and letting them slip through his fingers and flutter back to the ground. "All of my hard work, all of the labor, the sleepless nights, for nothing! Three days, Blaine! It took me three days just to finalize design work and two days more to perfect it. It was flawless!" Kurt wept in his hands, utterly distraught. "I can't recreate perfection like that twice in a row! It's impossible!"

"THEY CUT EZEKIEL AND ZECHARIAH!" Joe screamed as he ran through the choir room doors, pulling his hair from a ponytail holder and flashing it wildly around his shoulders.

"Who?!" Sam and Mercedes asked together, jumping up from their seats, frightened into speaking.

Joe lifted two dreadlocks near the center of his head, pointing to the now shortened, blunt nubs that were dangling there. "Ezekiel and Hezekiah! Somebody just ran behind me and cut them off!" As he felt around the rest of his head, he gasped in horror when he found five more locks, cut to near nothing, around his nape. "And Matthew through Acts! Those were my framing locks!"

"Joe, shut up! We have bigger issues here!" yelled Sugar, dragging him over to the sight in front of her. Joe's face fell at the dripping red message on the wall and the sight of the destroyed choir room. Sugar jumped back when Santana and Brittany fell over near her feet, coughing and spewing up blood vomit and foamy bilious fluid. Rachel screamed a shrill scream, curling up into herself as their bodies fell.

"What happened in here?" Joe asked Mercedes and Sam, the only two of the group who remained silent and still as their friends fussed over the girls. Mercedes was too overwhelmed to answer, doubling over and weeping on her forearms, so a solemn Sam took the opportunity to answer.

"Donovan happened, Joe," he answered gravely, watching all of the chaos unfold around him. "Donovan happened."

**O-O**

After a long, agonizing wait outside of the nurse's office, the group finally heard news about their friends.

"Well, good news and bad news, folks," declared a graying Nurse Perkins, pulling off her gloves and huffing a tired breath. "Good news is your friends are fine. The cheerleaders' stomachs have settled and your guys in the hospital are in stable condition. Nothing a couple of stiches, a pint of blood, and a round of pain meds couldn't fix. They'll be just fine."

"Oh, thank god." Sam sighed, taking a shaky, terse breath he'd been holding since he waited for news.

Mercedes nibbled her bottom lip, appearing no less relieved by the news. "Any word on their condition?"

"Well, That's the bad news. The disabled one suffered a minor rib fracture…"

"Artie."

"Pardon?" asked the weary nurse.

"His name is Artie. And my other friend's name is Mike."

"I'm sorry. _Artie_ suffered a minor rib fracture. As far as we know, he didn't puncture a lung or any other vital organs, so he should be well on his way to recovery. Your other friend Mike's condition was a bit more serious. The slice to his abdomen was deep, not enough to permanently injure him, but enough to require a bit of patch work. He lost quite a bit of blood on the way to school and during the wait for paramedics. That, coupled with the fight he had while injured, caused him to pass out. But, he is fine and stable as well. Just needs to heal up and get plenty of rest."

"What about the girls? Do we know what caused them to throw up like that?" Quinn asked, leaning against the doorframe beside Mercedes.

"Well, we haven't done any tests yet, but I know a case of food poisoning when I see it."

"Food poisioning? Is that all?" Kurt asked, shocked.

"Hey, don't knock food poisoning, Son. I've seen some pretty bad cases in my day." The nurse told him. "Whatever you girls ate, you ate on an empty stomach. There was hardly anything in you to come up! I think a minor esophageal bleed caused the bloody vomit. There wasn't enough blood to wave any huge red flags. Some fluids to get them hydrated should get them back on the up and up."

"There was some catering in the locker room from BreadSticks," offered Quinn, suddenly remembering. "I thought it was weird since Coach doesn't like us to have carbs, but I thought the pregnancy hormones made her soft. Most of the girls didn't touch it because they are too scale conscious to even consider it. The girls and I had just eaten breakfast, so I wasn't hungry. But…." A lightbulb went off in her head. "Everyone knows Brittany and Santana can't resist BreadSticks." She gave Mercedes a look of understanding. "Everyone knows that."

The nurse cleared her throat, interrupting the solemn silence amongst the teens. "Well, if you all will excuse me, I have patients to take care of." The older woman turned on her heel and marched down the hall toward the locker rooms to check on the other girls that had gotten sick.

"Breadsticks, the drugs in Finn's locker, the coffee shop Mike stops at every morning…"

"They were all common knowledge. It was stuff anyone would have known," Finn finished for Mercedes.

"But not things everyone would care about. I mean, the choir room stuff was clearly personal." said Puck, leaning over to nudge his forehead against Mercedes's temple in hopes of encouraging her to look up. It didn't work.

"But, why those other girls? What did they do?" Blaine asked from his seat on the floor.

"Maybe they just got caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage." Kurt surmised, leaning against his boyfriend.

"Or maybe it's because of us…." Finn shared a look with the boys, prompting Mercedes to finally look toward them.

"What do you mean because of _us_?" At their silence and Sam's guilty, reddening face, her tone darkened. "What did you all do?"

"Well…" Joe sighed and decided to come clean. "When you left, we may have met up with Donovan and…set him straight."

Mercedes sprung up from her seat in anger. "GUYS! I told you not to! I told you not to for this VERY reason! Who was part of this?" All the boys, with the exception of Kurt, raised their hands. "Were Mike and Artie part of this, too?"

"They were the ones that arranged it." Puck said quietly. "But honestly, even with what happened to them, I don't think they'd regret it for a minute."

"Are you insane, Puck?! Have you lost your natural mind?! They could have been killed!" she shouted.

"I know! But…Mama, you think this fight is all about you, and it isn't."

"Yeah," added Finn. "This isn't just about you. It's about all of us. The day you told us what happened, I was scared for you, but I was also scared for all of the girls. You all mean the world to me." He smiled a small smile and gathered Rachel to his side, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and kissing her lips. "I don't know what I would do if someone hurt you," he continued, looking at Rachel.

"And if it didn't happen to one of us, it would have happened to you and we can't sit back and watch that," said Joe." Hair will grow back, stitches will heal, and cracked ribs will fuse back together, but if he ever touched you again, there would be no coming back from that for us, not for me at least. You've been like a second mom to some of us, Mercedes. You were one of the first people to welcome me to McKinley, even before I joined glee club. You're irreplaceable."

"For me, too," added Sugar. "Even when my audition sucked, you pulled me to the side and told me, and I quote, "A little less sass and a little more voice will take you a long way, honey." Mercedes lips quivered at the memory. "Well, I haven't forgotten, Mama." Sugar sing-songed, smiling sadly. "I'm a better person because of your guidance. I for one would die inside knowing someone hurt you." Her face contorted a bit into the beginnings of a cry, and Joe pulled her close and rubbed her back, humming 'Jesus Loves Me' low in his throat.

"And Mama, think of the future! What about our children? What about Beth? What if Donovan decides to creep around her high school when she gets older? Or her _Elementary school?_" said a tense Puck. Quinn shuddered a bit at his words, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I let him live to touch her."

"Baby, can't you see how much we're all invested in this?" Sam told Mercedes, gently guiding her back to her seat and lifting her chin to meet her eyes. "We're a family for a reason. We're there for each other. And you and I, what we have? I will fight to the death to protect it."

"I care about you, too," she whispered back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "All of you. This is why I cannot have you fighting my battles for me, especially the ones behind my back!" She turned to address them. "If we're a family like you all say we are, then we need to communicate better. I need you all to tell me when you decide to do something crazy that could possibly put you in harm's way! As much as it would hurt you to know someone hurt me, it would hurt me ten times worse to know you all were injured or _killed_ for something I didn't know about, something that I could have prevented." Everyone looked down at the floor with solemn faces, like children being chastised by their mother. Drying her eyes and straightening her clothes, Mercedes stood up and faced them all. "I love you all, from the bottom of my heart and with everything in me. But I swear, if any one of you pulls a stunt like this again for my sake, I will kill you myself." She stepped through the crowd and stomped off. Confused and sorrowful faces turned to Sam, who shrugged in his seat.

"I think we really scared her, guys," he said. "She's not angry, but I think today's scare really shook her up. Just give her some time." His worried eyes followed her as she left and walked down the hallway, hoping that the cliché of time healing all wounds would hold true for their sake.

**O-O**

Mrs. Jones texted Mercedes on her way to the lockers, instructing her to swing by the law office on her way home so they could talk and leave together. _Figgins must have called her_ she thought, sighing at the idea of having to explain what happened to her mother. She was so tired of rehashing bad news. It was near unbearable, seeing the pained expression on her parents' faces over and over again. How much more would she put them through? Put her friends through? Put _herself _through?

And Sam, her only love, her future, was willing to die for her honor. How could she ever accept such a sacrifice? How could she live knowing he was hurt because of her, by the very hands of her attacker_?_ Her heart couldn't bear the thought.

As she packed her books in her backpack and closed her locker, three guys suddenly surrounded her, locking her in a box formed by their bodies.

"Tell your friends not to flatter themselves too much. I've taking plenty of beat downs in my life with nary a tear. Everything I did was all for you, darling." Donovan whispered behind her, pushing her back against the lockers with a small shove of his shoulders.

"So murder and vandalism is what you really do, huh? Rape and sexual assault must just be a hobby for you," Mercedes harshly whispered back, trying hard to slow her breathing and shield her fear.

"Murder? Vandalism? Whatever do you mean, Ms. Jones?" Larry and Eddie chuckled beside him. "As far as I know, no one has died from anything I've done. And that little gift in the choir room was just my way of saying you're always on my mind." She couldn't see it, but Mercedes knew he was wearing that same cocky smirk he wore the day he'd kissed her hand in the parking lot. "Maybe I should find better ways of showing my devotion."

"Maybe you should find something to cover up those whip marks on your neck. I see Joseph handled you well." scoffed Mercedes.

Donovan growled at the reminder, harshly rubbing the red welts hidden behind his letterman jacket. "Fucking dreadlocks. Heavy as shit." Catching himself, he shook off the ill feelings and regained his composure, laughing away the discomfort. "I've had worse. Try surviving beatings with a lead pipe and then talk about pain. Concussion for a week," he bragged.

"Oh? Is that where you got it from? I guess daddy taught you a few things." Mercedes spat back. Donovan whipped around and twisted her shoulders to face him, keeping the cocoon of bodies around her intact.

"Look bitch, you don't know the first thing about me. I tried to show you, but you were…strangely resistant." Mercedes pulled her face away when he reached out to caress her cheek.

"I don't want you. I never did. You forced me, Donovan!"

"Look, I didn't come to argue, beautiful," he crooned, running his thumb over her bottom lip and nary missing the bite of her teeth. "Oooh, now there's that spirit!" he laughed, flashing his hand. "I've missed that. I love that fire, baby. That's what drew me to you."

"What the _hell _do you want? You damn well better be quick, before I scream." Mercedes threatened, boldly meeting his stare with a murderous glare.

"Well, we know how well that one went over, don't we? No one but you, me, and the birds heard that shit. Did you tell your man how wet you got for me? How you creamed all over my fingers? I bet you haven't come properly since…."

"Several times actually, with my boyfriend, a _real _man. I didn't think about you once," she said in annoyance and anger. In reality, that wasn't completely true. Sam had to stop his ministrations between her legs when his hands accidently brushed her bare stomach, right over the four inch long scar below her belly button. It was one of the few physical reminders that remained from the attack, when he pushed her over the edge of the truck and held her down. "He doesn't have to hold a woman against her will to have sex with her."

"Oh sweetheart, neither do I! Sometimes I have my boys hold them down." He shrugged nonchalantly at Mercedes disgusted face. "But, details, details. I didn't come to discuss the trivial things."

Mercedes huffed, angered that he called rape a "trivial thing". "What the hell do you want from me, Donovan?!"

"Your _life,_" Donovan hissed. "Tell your mother and your bitch lawyer to stand down, keep your friends out of my hair, and we can finish this less than stellar school year on easier terms."

"And if they aren't persuaded by my words?" Mercedes asked, frowning in silent answer to his ludicrous request."

He stared at her for a minute, smiled, grinned widely, and then chuckled in her face. "Expect more surprises, my dear. Lots more surprises. Expect to see a little present waiting at home for you and your boyfriend today."

"That was the dumbest thing you've done, Donovan. You know I'm gonna tell the police about it and catch anything before it happens. You shouldn't have warned me."

"What, you think I'm stupid enough to do something illegal and get caught? You underestimate me, Ms. Jones!" he laughed. "No, this present will be hand delivered by my lawyer personally." He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Suspicion isn't conviction, but proof goes a long, fucking way." He leaned up and winked at her, smiling at the fear in her eyes. "See you in court, Ms. Jones."

With a snap of his fingers, his boys leaned up and released her, walking coolly behind their fearless leader just as first period ended and students erupted from their classrooms and into the halls.

**O-O**

Mercedes didn't have to wait until she got home for her "surprise". As soon as she stepped into her mother's office, her mom and her lawyer were sitting around her desk, having a rather passionate discussion over a set of papers stacked on a manila envelope.

"Mama? What's going on?" asked Mercedes.

"Bad news, baby girl. We've got a situation. McMann decided to pull out the big guns." ADA Johnson pulled out a chair for her and patted the seat, ushering Mercedes to sit down. She grabbed the stack of papers and plopped them in front of her, pointing to a particular spot of interest on the lengthy legal form.

"Donovan is…..pressing charges against ME?! FOR ASSAULT?! Is he out of his fucking MIND?!"

"Language, Mercedes," Mrs. Jones urged sternly, although she appeared just as disgusted by the news as she was. "But, yes. Judge McMann contacted Amelia this afternoon."

"They served Sam papers as well. Burt received the news this afternoon, since he is his temporary guardian. Now honey, I'm gonna be honest. When you told me about the confrontation on Friday, I was expecting something like this." ADA Johnson confessed. "McMann is known to play dirty. And try as I did to do some damage control, he somehow pulled some strings and got that school recording. As proud as I am of you for shoving it to that prick, it might have been the worst choice to make, legally speaking. He can call your character in question, your history of violence, your strength…"

"Her strength? What does that have to do with anything?" asked Mrs. Jones.

"Well, according to her statement, she and Donovan were alone behind that truck. She was able to handle him alone, for the most part, in front of that crowd. The defense will question whether or not she was truly capable of being overpowered during her alleged attack. That will, in turn, question her integrity, which will make her look like another lying gold digger desperate for a bit of McMann money. I've seen him at work in court and trust me, he'll find a way to spin it that way."

"Oh my god…" Mercedes slipped lower and lower in her seat, holding her temple and closing her eyes to quell the dizzying headache that overcame her.

"Honey, now that doesn't mean it's completely hopeless." Mrs. Jones assured her, rubbing her shoulder.

"That's right, Mercedes. We can still work this in your favor. If we can convince the court that the attack was solely driven by her grief and distress over the attack, we can still have an advantage."

"But how can we do that with little to no proof of the attack happening? All we have are police reports with chunks of omissions and a bunch of hearsay. None of it will stand strong in court. We don't even have any of the documentation on hand, except for the medical report," said Mrs. Jones, shifting into legal mode.

"Yeah, according to them, there's a slight delay due to 'processing issues.' " ADA Johnson air-quoted, rolling their eyes at their pathetic excuse. "That's the same thing they told us when my sister was attacked by Klansmen in '62. Utter nonsense. Nothing but the man working the system in their favor. But things are gonna change, that's for sure. We're fighting tooth and nail for this one."

"Well, what are you suggesting, Mel? I don't see many options. The charges were dropped almost two weeks ago. We can't charge him again."

"Not unless we use their own strategy against them and challenge their standing." Johnson answered, wearing her trademark shark smile.

For once, Mrs. Jones enjoyed the presence of that smile very much. "I'm listening…."

"My suggestion? We call McMann's legal integrity into question. We already suspect some corruption, and although we don't have all the ducks in a row just yet, we can still try to get the ball rolling. Now, I have to warn you both, this will cause a flurry of media attention. And Mercedes, I know how much you wanted to avoid court, but for a case of this magnitude, we may have to ask you to testify in court. Would you be willing to do that?"

"Testify? In front of them?!" Mercedes asked in fearful disbelief.

"Now baby, I know it sounds scary, but you know your father and I will be behind you every step of the way," said her mother.

"Yes honey, and you know you've got the best of the best working behind you here. Not just me, but an entire team of legal support willing to give all for this case. Most of us have _personal _thorns in our side from that man," sneered the ADA. "But the choice is completely yours. This case is far bigger than you…."

Bigger than her. That's what everyone kept on telling her. But was it so wrong for her to think about herself and herself alone in this situation? And was she really only thinking about herself if her decision could have a tragic domino effect on the people she cared about? She hadn't told her mother and her lawyer about Donovan's involvement in everything that happened today. Even if she did, would it make a world of difference? He would find some way to worm his way out of responsibility , leaving him free to cause more chaos. How much could she take? When would he stop? Until he broke her? Until her mother and father were dead? Until he killed Sam in front of her?

No. She was done.

Her mother's words and her lawyer's words swirled around her in a barely audible fog. Few sentences escaped and cleared its way into her consciousness, but none of them proved convincing enough to change her mind.

…_.Honey, if we don't do our best to put Donovan and his father in prison, that will only leave them free to hurt other girls like you and get away with it. We have to make a difference….._

…_..Mercedes, out of 100 rape and sexual assault cases, only 46 are reported, and only 3 of those convicted will ever spend a day in jail. Let's change those numbers, correct those statistics….._

…_..Baby, 44 percent of rape and sexual assault victims are your age and younger. That's not just you, but smaller children in middle school and elementary school that can't fend for themselves, that don't have the words or the strength to speak up. We can be their voice, baby. We can save them…." _

…_The more we expose these men for what they are and share your story, the better chance we have to get justice…._

"Stop! Everyone, just stop! Please!" Mercedes covered her eyes and ears, tired of listening to voices telling her what she should and shouldn't do. Her decision was final. "I'm not going through with this. I want to drop everything and forget this whole thing ever happened."

The two adult women exchanged concerned looks. "Do you know what this means, Mercedes? If we do this, there's little to no chance of trying to convict them again." her lawyer gently warned.

"Baby, let's stop and think about this for a second. You're feeling really overwhelmed and conflicted. I know you are probably tired and emotionally drained from everything that happened to Artie and Mike…"

"Mama, I know what I want. I'm not confused or tired or emotionally drained." Mercedes insisted. "I'm just….done, Mama. I can't take anymore. I've been taking and taking from everyone and I just can't do it anymore! Senior year is only a couple of weeks away from being over. I just want to enjoy this time in peace, spend the summer with my boyfriend, and breathe in peace over graduation and recovering from all this."

"Baby, I know how hard this must be for you, but…"

"Do you, Mama?" Mercedes asked softly, looking at her mother with tired eyes. "Because I don't think you really can. I respect all you've done and the fight you've put up for me and the sacrifices you've made to make sure I had a voice in all of this, but….you can't _possibly _have any idea how hard this truly is for me. Every time I take a step forward, this whole mess comes back to haunt me and forces me ten steps back. Every time Sam and I get closer and reconnect, one wrong touch or sudden memory ruins it all and we have to start all over again. My friends are willing to die for me because they're so angry about all of this, they're angry for _me_ because they love me. I've seen two of them almost die today because of their love, and I can't bear to be the one to tell their parents that two young lives were sacrificed for my honor. And I know you said to think about all of the other young adults and children that could possibly be affected by this, but honestly, I can't find enough energy in me to care about anyone but me right now. I need peace, Mama. I've fought for everyone else my entire life. When will it be my turn to fight for me?" A lone tear ran down the apple of her cheek. "I only have the strength to fight for me right now, Mama. I _cannot_ do this."

Crying for her daughter, Mrs. Jones pulled her in and hugged her. "I may not understand fully, baby." she whispered. "But I understand. If you want to stop…..then, we'll stop."

"Thank you." Mercedes sighed in relief, returning her mother's embrace. "Thank you, Mama." ADA Johnson sat behind them and watched the scene, swiping away a leaking tear before it fell and closing her briefcase with a tired huff and an nod of finality.

"Just promise me something, Mercedes. Just one thing for me, if you have it in you."

"Yes, Mama?"

Mrs. Jones bit her bottom lip before continuing; holding her daughter's shoulders as she found the words. "Don't make any decision for me or your father or your glee friends. Don't do it for Sam, or for Donovan, or for ADA Johnson or anyone else but you, alright? Promise?"

"I promise." Mercedes answered, curious. "What is it?"

"I need you to pray about this, baby." When Mercedes dismissively sucked her teeth, she quickly added, "Just for guidance. This is a big decision, bug, one that you might not be able to come back from. And whatever you choose will affect you for the rest of your life. The last thing I want is for you to live without the peace you've found years later, when you're old and gray and I'm too far away to help you."

"Mama." She began to tear up again at the thought of a time when her mother wouldn't be there beside her.

"Hush now, bug. You know I don't plan on leaving for a very, very long time, not if I can help it. What I'm saying is you and I don't have all the answers. But He does," she said, pointing to heaven. "And with His guidance, I know you will have an everlasting and perfect peace, a peace that surpasses all understanding and doesn't leave with the circumstance. Take His advice, whatever that may be, and step out on faith with it. If it's still a no, then so be it. But, if it's yes bug, then we need to honor it and trust him to pull us through. Will you try? If not for me, then for the soundness of your own mind?"

After a few minutes of thought, Mercedes slowly nodded. "Okay, Mama. I'll give it a try."

Mrs. Jones sighed in relief, beaming a proud smile. "That's my girl."

**O-O**

Mercedes didn't find the courage to honor her agreement until Thursday afternoon, after choir practice ended. The glee club was still in recovery mode, and rehearsals had been reduced to two days that week until their entire crew could attend. Her case simmered in a heated limbo, due to start sometime in the coming weeks, and she and Sam agreed to put their date nights on hold until everything had settled down. Being alone and forced to slow down gave her the opportunity she needed to sort her thoughts. As she sat in the empty pew, underneath the soft glow of the guard lights illuminating the altar, an unusual sense of calm washed over her. The peaceful presence in the chapel helped her find the courage to walk toward the cross, kneel on the carpeted steps, and find the words to express how she felt to her creator.

"Father….I don't know what I should say here. I talk to you all the time about the things that bother me, but this one tops them all. I don't even know where to begin with you." Silence loomed over her as she gathered her thoughts, while focusing on the bronzed cross hanging above the pulpit. "What else is the cross but a symbol of your greatest sacrifice? Is it our greatest reminder of your overwhelming love and indescribable torment? Life gives us our own. Is this my cross to bear?" Only the quiet answered her. ""You know, what I love most about you is your acceptance of imperfection. I never have to use pretty words or flowery language for you to hear me. I can come to you, as I am with whatever I'm feeling, and you would understand and listen without judging me. I'm grateful for that." Taking a breath, she prepared herself for total honesty. "God, I feel like you've let me down. You say you orchestrate everything that happens, that there is nothing above your control and out of your line of sight. And father, I've dedicated my entire life to serving you and doing what you say, expecting you to protect me from harm. Why weren't you there that day? Why didn't you strike him down or stop his hand or _warn me_?" The familiar swirling feeling in her gut returned, alerting her senses as if it was a supernatural answer to her question.

"Is that all I get, Lord? A feeling? Why did it happen at all? Why did you allow it? Was it some sort of recompense for my stupid decision? I thought you were merciful!"

"_Sam came. He didn't hurt you. You got help,_" said the quiet voice of her subconscious.

"I did get help and I know it could have been worse." She replied to the empty room. "But it still doesn't seem fair. Why me, of all people? Why do people who do good things always get the short end of your favor? I'm your daughter, Lord! I've never done anything less than what you've asked of me. Every time I've stumbled, I've come to you asking for forgiveness. I've loved those who've hated me and offered everything I had to those in need, m-my food, my shelter, money….my words, my friendship…Father, why me?!" she angrily whispered. "I would never wish this fate on anyone, good or bad, but…it doesn't seem fair somehow."

"_They need your voice," _the inner voice whispered again, louder than before_. _Whether it came from heaven or her own psyche, she wasn't sure, but it was audible and clear.

"Who needs me, Lord? My friends? My family? Erin? Other victims? God, I'm so tired of being the one who stands up for everyone else! I'm tired of being needed! Why can't I be selfish, just this once? Why can't someone stand up for me so that I could have the chance to focus on my own problems for a change? Is it so wrong, after all I've been through, to stop worrying about what's best for everyone else and start worrying about what's best for me?" This time, the silence frustrated her. "Why won't you talk to me?!" she yelled, staring up expectantly toward the heavens. She took a shaky breath and calmed, purging her body of all the angry, intense feelings coursing through her.

"Mama and Ms. Amelia think that I should try to fight this," she said in a calmer tone. "But Father, look at how much destruction that has already come from my strides for justice! Mike and Artie had to go to the hospital, Santana and Brittany were hurt, Finn is being framed for drug possession and may lose all of his chances at getting a football scholarship…all because of me. What if this is just the beginning? What if Donovan doesn't stop or the courts don't believe me and someone ends up dead from all this?" Her face contorted in distress. "God, what if he hurts Sam? Or my mom and dad? God, he has so much more power than I do. Who am I to challenge an entire judicial system? Who am I to be a voice for anybody?"

Her chin trembled violently, preceding the onset of tears. "I'm terrified, Lord. I've tried everything I could think of and nothing worked. What do I do?"

She waited and waited, but all she got in reply was the howling sounds of wind coursing through the trees outside. Tired, she leaned against the communion table to prop herself up, but numb legs and a slip of her hand dragged the white tablecloth instead, throwing her a bit off balance and toppled a tan-covered bible off the edge.

"Man…" She sucked her teeth and huffed, readjusting the cloth and items on the table. She picked up the bible near her feet, preparing to close it and put it back in its proper place as well, but a highlighted section on the open page caught her attention. Ironically, the bible's owner scribbled the words _verse in times of fear and indecision _with a drawn arrow pointing to the block of verse.

"_Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, your savior. ….Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life. Do not be afraid, for I am with you….." (Isaiah 43: 1-5, NIV)_

"_Try me," _said the voice, and Mercedes knew immediately that she had not imagined it. It resonated from her soul and touched every wounded place in her heart, soothing every doubt and fear with a balm of peace. She bent over at the waist and wept, unloading every burden she held in front of the cross. Her cries came and came until the heaviness left her, until the pressures of the world rolled off her shoulders and unfolded at the altar. Being there, in the solitude of a higher power offering to take away her pain, Mercedes discovered the true meaning of faith and complete surrender. It liberated her.

"Mercedes?"

The voice made her sit up and quickly turn her face to dry her eyes. Emerging from the darkened corner of the sanctuary, the figure came into the light and gave her a clear view of their face.

"Shane? What are you doing here?" she asked with a sniffle, dabbing away the last of her tears with the collar of her blouse.

"Same reason that you're here, it seems. I came to get some answers. The beauty of churches in small towns is that they're always open when you need them." His eyes drifted from hers to the gleaming cross in front of her. "Something about being here gives me clarity." Sensing her tremble, he offered an apologetic smile. "I hope I didn't scare you too much. For a jock, I tend to be really light-footed."

"No, it's fine. It wasn't you; it was just something I was thinking about. " She gathered her hair and dropped it behind her shoulders and out of the way, moving to stand. "I can hear Him so well here, so clearly. But sometimes, what he says isn't necessarily what you expect to hear."

"So true," he agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets. After a bit of awkward silence and a few stolen glances pregnant with emotion, Mercedes walked down the steps and prepared to leave.

"Well, I guess I'll give you some time alone then. I'll see you at school."

"Mercedes, wait. Please." She turned back to face him, walking back toward him.

"What is it?"

"Can we-do you think that we could talk? You know, about things?"

"What kind of things exactly, Shane?"

Going for broke, he decided to lay it all out in front of them. "I was in the hallway on Friday. I know what really happened."

Unmoved, Mercedes replied with a simple "oh" and took a seat on the front pew, patting the space beside her to invite him to sit. He accepted and sat, fiddling with his hands as he thought of what to say.

"Mercedes, please know that if I had known what he did…"

"Shane, there's absolutely no point dwelling on what ifs," she interrupted, trying hard to avoid a groveling apology. "What happened simply happened. How you perceived the situation before you knew made you do what you did, and the truth can't change anything now."

He rubbed his chin in discomfort, flexing his jaw. "But, the truth can shed a new light. It can make you see things you didn't see before and force you to reflect on yourself and your choices. It can make you realize how truly wrong you were…about everything."

She met his gaze, waiting for him to continue. "Mercedes, I was so wrong to even do what I did in the first place. That message on your locker was hateful and cruel and…so not me. It's not what I think of you at all and I'm so sorry that I ever let anyone convince me to tell you otherwise."

"So, why did you do it? If it wasn't you, why go through with it? Shane, do you know how much more those words hurt, knowing they came from someone I loved and trusted? Someone I thought loved me?" she asked him, letting a bit of her pain show.

His eyes fell away, staring at the floor. "Did you really, Mercedes? Love me, I mean."

"Of course I did, Shane! I wouldn't have been with you if I didn't love you!" she replied. "When I'm with someone, I give them my all. I gave you all I could, Shane."

"Yet Sam still won your heart, didn't he?" he said, bowing his head in his hands.

Mercedes pulled his hands away one by one, turning his chin to face her. "Shane….I told you what happened. It wasn't fair and I shouldn't have done it, but I had some unfinished business with my first love that wasn't settled. I jumped in a relationship with you, even though you and I both knew that I was still grieving the loss. It doesn't excuse what I did, but…it wasn't fair to either of us."

Shane nodded and chuckled, receiving her words with a suck of his teeth. "You know what's so awful about that? The worst part? It's not that you loved Sam more than me or that you left me for him. It's that I thought that, somehow, my love would change all of that. That my loving you would win you, that I would be able to whisk away your affection."

"It doesn't work that way. Love doesn't work that way."

Shane shrugged pathetically, dropping his shoulders. "It's not like I'd know. I thought what we had was the real thing. I thought I had finally found it. My parents loved me, but I wasn't special. I've had girlfriends, but only in title, never in affection. Then, I found you and we connected in so many ways….it opened my eyes to possibilities I never knew before. It changed me for the better. I thought you were really the one." He nodded to himself, feeling his eyes water. "It's why I proposed. I wasn't trying to back you in a corner or pressure you. I just didn't want to lose the one good thing I'd found. I wanted the feeling I had with you to last forever. You were everything."

"But I didn't feel the same, Shane," Mercedes said softly, reaching out to touch his back. "And no girl, no one, should EVER be your everything. I don't care how wonderful they are. You have to love you first, Shane. You never loved you, even when we first started dating. Every time a guy would even glance twice in our direction, you'd jump on the defensive. I hated being so stifled with you. I wanted to enjoy you and our time together. I fell for the Shane that met me on the bleachers and sang Luther Vandross off key when I was sad because I didn't get the solo for regionals." They both chuckled at the memory. "And the guy who always let me win in Scrabble, even though he's secretly been a word whiz since the second grade."

"Can't have the guys knowing I'm a smart jock. It would ruin my reputation," Shane quipped.

"And that! Your sarcasm. I loved that about you. I loved that you could let your guard down. I loved that you weren't shallow and cocky like other guys. You had a good heart and a great sense of humor. You gave all of yourself. What happened to that guy? And why did the jerk who defamed my locker replace him?"

The tears fell at her questions, fluid and uninhibited. "I've told you about me, Mercedes. I may not have known you as much as I would've liked, but I've shared myself with you. I've never looked in the mirror and seen myself as extraordinary. Most people can search themselves and find their thing, you know? They can find the one thing that makes them special and unique. I wasn't buff or the smartest, not even the best looking…."

"I liked you." Mercedes offered. He nodded, believing it.

"But, it's never enough if you don't believe it yourself. You were the only one that ever told me that." After a moment, he frowned, looking at her. "You know what my thing was? Football. I was always a star runner and had an awesome arm. My brothers were built like most athletes were, but my dad would always say that I was the one with the most star potential. Football made me feel like a man, for the first time in my life. I had purpose, and a destiny that I could be proud of. My parents could finally talk about me with a light in their eyes. You know that light, right? When your parents are so proud of you that their joy just spills from every pore? You can't fake that shit," he explained. "But see, the problem was…you helped me realize this by the way, right after we spoke in Figgins' office. The problem was that I treated my whole life like the field. I tackled and fought my way through everything, and it worked for the most part. I got the scholarship I wanted, get to graduate with honors, and recieved the public's adoration. But when I tried it with you, it backfired. No matter how much I fought, you would pull further and further away. At first, I swore it was because I wasn't trying hard enough. This was serious love; so naturally, I needed to come up with some complex strategy. You were the touchdown victory at the end of a neck and neck game with a fierce opponent, one who had the upper hand with an intense romantic history with you and charming good looks. How could I beat that? That's what I thought."

"Honestly?" she asked, feeling pained for him.

"Yeah. I was strategizing, play by play, trying to win you baby," he said in his deep, mellow voice. "What I didn't get until much, much later was that you were never a prize to be won. Sam understood that, and that gave him the advantage. I thought you were the ball, but Sam knew you were the referee. I was trying to drag you to finish, but Sam was playing by your calls. I lost out because I wasn't listening. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does surprisingly." She said, amazed at her ability to comprehend. "I'm so sorry you felt that way."

"I'm sorry for thinking that you would cheat again to get back at me," he replied.

"Shane, as much as I love Sam, my intention was never to hurt you or embarrass you. Please know that…" He stopped her with his hand.

"Save it, baby. I know. I was dealing with my own stuff. It wasn't you." Shane took her smaller hand and clasped them in his own. "But, as a friend, I just want to say how sorry I am for what Donovan did to you. I shouldn't have assumed or pushed you. I probably only made matters worse, and I never wanted that. I was venting without thinking and….. God, if I had known, I would've handled his ass good and proper on the field, damn the consequences."

His fiery answer made her crack a smile. "You don't fight, Shane. You wouldn't hurt a fly. You don't have to BS for me."

"No BS, Mercedes, I mean it. I meant when I said I love you. I still do. And whether that love is as your boyfriend or as just your friend, it's enough to put the fight in me. I may have lost your trust, but I will do everything I can to defend my character. I'm still that guy, Mercedes. I'll do whatever it takes to prove that to you again."

Mercedes wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. "Well, this was the messiest break up ever," she joked, sniffling away her own tears. He chuckled warmly and returned her embrace, squeezing her tightly.

"Some real Ike and Tina shit," He cracked, laughing as they pulled from the embrace. "But, I'm glad it was with someone so understanding. You're not gonna bust my windows and crap now, are you?"

She laughed harder, shaking her head. "One time is enough! Like you, I had a momentary lapse in judgment. That will not happen again!"

Growing serious, he added, "And what about Donovan? Are you bringing him to court and fighting this?"

She sighed, nibbling her lip and settling more comfortably next to him. "Honestly, I still don't know. My head's telling me one thing, but my heart's telling me something completely different. I feel so confused."

He wrapped an arm behind her shoulders, making sure to keep a friendly distance. "Well, I would suggest you listen to your heart. I may not know everything about you, but I remember enough to know that your heart hasn't steered you wrong yet. And I know you were in here praying, too. Did that give you any more clarity?"

She nodded silently.

"Well, did He agree with what your heart is saying or your head?"

Her eyes fell just like Shane's did a moment ago. "My heart," she whispered quietly.

"Then, go for it Mercedes! You can't go wrong with two out of three. Those are impressive odds." Shane noticed her silent expression of apprehension. "Hey, you aren't the first person to go through this, baby. People go to court and win all the time. Besides, this prick needs to be put in his place and know that he can't get away with this crap again." After a thought, he scoffed. "For all we know, he could have been a victim himself."

Mercedes eyes brightened, slowly raising her head. "Shane, say that again."

He frowned, puzzled at her sudden change in demeanor "I said, for all we know, he could have been a victim…"

"Oh my gosh. Shane, that's it! You're genius!" She quickly kissed his cheek and ran off, escaping eagerly through the double doors of the church. Shane followed her with his eyes as she left, stunned by her behavior. Touching his cheek, he felt the creamy smudge of her lip gloss, still warm from her lips. He ran his fingers over his cheek and cracked a smile. Casting his eyes up to the heavens, his smile grew.

"Well Lord, you've done it again. I didn't deserve it, but you gave me her forgiveness anyway. For this, I thank you." And after another minute of silent prayer, Shane stood, bowed in thanksgiving before the altar, and made his way home.

**O-O**

After a night of gathering the courage, a group visit to Mike and Artie's homes, and an awesome afternoon at the park counting the clouds and talking about nothing with Sam, Mercedes felt ready to put her plan into action. She'd shared her theory with Sam and he'd told her the same thing Shane had: She needed to follow her gut and her heart. But, doing what she had planned came with no factual support whatsoever. What if she was wrong? What if she overstepped her boundaries?

Staring at her cell phone, with Erin's number highlighted on the screen, she finally worked up the nerve to dial her number. She smiled at the sound of her voice on the other end, just as excited and giddy as ever.

"Sweet peas and carrots, bestie! Total thought jinx! I was just about to call you!" Mercedes laughed at her clever turn of phrase. Erin never really cursed often. According to her, she was out of practice and sounded awkward when she tried. "Can I come over? I really, really, really need your advice!"

"Is there something wrong? Is it an emergency?" Mercedes asked her urgently.

"Well, it is super-duper important. So, can I come?" Mercedes had already planned on inviting her, so the request worked out in her favor.

"Sure Erin, come right over. See you in ten!"

"I'll do you one better, bestie. I'll see you in five."

**O-O**

Ever punctual and true to her word, five minutes later, Erin rang her doorbell.

"You know, I'm scared to ask how many speed laws you violated to get here!" Mercedes exclaimed to the closed door as she marched down the steps.

"Only seven! No biggie!" Erin answered back, smiling wide when the door swung open and Mercedes's face came into view. She quickly gave a mock serious pout. "But, no time for games. Serious face."

Mercedes frowned deeply as well, mimicking her duck lips and scrunched nose. "Serious face."

"I need your help in the biggest way. I've decided to make one of the biggest changes any girl can make in her life."

"What?" Two colorful boxes were shoved in Mercedes face, shocking her. She backed up slowly to get a clearer view, giving Erin room to walk in and kick the door shut.

"Golden blonde or Honeysuckle?"

Mercedes giggled. "Are you serious? You're recoloring your hair?" Erin nodded firmly, running her hand through her tresses. "Why blonde, though?"

"I don't know. I just felt like a drastic change. Besides, what's more drastic than black to blonde? Besides, everyone loves a good blonde."

"Since when do you care what everyone thinks? You never cared before." Mercedes asked as she took the boxes from her, confused at her suddenly timid eyes.

"Just 'cause." Erin fiddled with her fingers, smiling gently as she looked to the floor. Mercedes followed her gaze to her black and red vans, recognizing the suspiciously familiar pair of checkered laces that a certain friend of hers had worn before. She grinned widely.

"I know why." Erin's smile dropped as she looked up, wide-eyed at her friend's knowing grin.

"What do you mean? It's for no reason." Erin argued, sputtering over her words. "I just….there's no..."

"Nice laces. Are they new?" Mercedes asked knowingly, confirming her suspicions when Erin blushed and shyly tucked a foot behind her shin. "You know, it's weird. Artie coveted laces just like those. He saw them in Hot Topic and swore up and down that Chris Martin owned the exact same pair. Actually, I think he ended up buying them. Didn't he wear them to practice last week?"

Erin sucked in her lips, fighting the quiver of a smile threatening to burst through. "I didn't notice."

Mercedes circled her slowly, eyeing her up and down with the same knowing grin. "You know, I'm almost certain he wore them to practice. It's so weird, because after he was finished talking to you in the corner—you know, where you were laughing and smiling while sitting on his lap and everything—I could have sworn that I saw his shoes undone, _sans_ laces. And Artie _never _has anything undone! Well, except, apparently, around you."

"Shut up!" laughed Erin, turning to swat her arm. Mercedes dodged it quickly, laughing.

"You know, Artie initials everything he owns. I bet if I look on the underside of these laces, I'd see two little A's that would prove me right!" She bent down to reach for her shoes, but Erin dodged her and sprinted up the stairs.

"Better luck next time!" She yelled back, running into Mercedes room and slamming the door.

"Get out of my room, Erin!" she yelled back, running up behind her when she heard the click of her lock. "And open the damn door! If you don't, I'm gonna color your hair green and you're gonna look like a turtle!"

"I might like that!" her light voice yelled back, more distant sounding as she ran into the bathroom.

"Weirdo." Mercedes muttered under her breath, twisting the newly unlocked doorknob and plopping on her bed, listening to the sound of the shower run.

Erin popped her head out, sticking out her tongue. "Hey, I heard that. Some of the world's best, smartest people were weirdos."

"And then, there was you." Mercedes gasped when her multicolor towel flew across the room and slapped her in the face. "Hey, there will be no violence in my room!"

"You started it." Erin's smile fell suddenly, losing its mirth. Her blue eyes became rounder and wider, less sure in its gaze. "Mercedes?"

"Yeah?" Mercedes sat up, noting the change in her tone.

"I know this is gonna sound weird, but….do you think you can sit on the toilet and stay in here with me while I wash my hair? It's crazy sounding, I know…" she chuckled at herself. "But, my mama Christie usually does it for me when I'm home." Mercedes knew it was serious when Erin let her hair fall in her face, masking her expression. She only ever did that when she was uncomfortable, and that rarely happened. "M-my dad….my real dad used to sneak up on me when I would take a bath and…he'd beat me with a wet cloth and I just…..can you stay with me?"

Mercedes marched in behind her without question, happy to see her friend's smile return as she closed the door.

**O-O**

"You know, Artie likes brunettes, too. He used to date Tina, once upon a time." Mercedes thumbed idly through a magazine as she sat, waiting for Erin to rinse out the remains of her temporary dye. "It might be his thing."

She chuckled at the sound of tumbling bottles and a fumbling Erin whispering "shoot!" under her breath. "This is not about Artie! This is just another evolving form of my self-expression!"

"Uh huh. And you think that Artie has a thing for blondes. I totally get it." Mercedes teased, earning a playful glare from her soapy friend.

"Watch it, Jones." She warned in her lowest voice, dramatically pulling the curtain closed. After a moment, her lighter voice added, "So…he dated Tina, huh? Wasn't she, like, goth back then? Was he into that?"

Mercedes chuckled at her transparency, choosing instead to hum a tune to avoid answering her. Erin and Artie were the cutest thing. Ever since they officially met last Wednesday, with Santana introducing her as "bitch dozens" and Artie as "token cripple", the two hit it off like old friends. Artie would sing extra loud and strong to her during rehearsals, and Erin ate up the attention with shy smiles and quiet blushes that Mercedes had never seen or heard from her. By the end of the session, Erin and Artie ran late for classes talking and laughing amongst themselves. By Friday, Artie was wheeling her on his lap to her car after therapy and numbers had reportedly been exchanged. Tina had called Mercedes while she was in LA and told her that Erin had shown up to Saturday's rehearsal on her own, offering some lame excuse about 'feeling led to be there in her bestie's absence'. It was all so obvious and all too cute.

"I'm sure he wouldn't go for me anyway, not that I'm interested or anything." Erin continued, wringing her hair free of soap and splashing the walls of the bathtub. "I mean, he has a crush on Beyoncé for goodness sake. And I've seen him look you over from time to time. I don't have lips or ass or nothing and I'm pasty as hell." Her head peaked out, arching a brow at her friend. "You think I'm pasty with my stage makeup, but I only use that stuff to shield my inhuman lack of melanin from earthlings."

"You're not pasty, Erin. You're just…." Erin waited expectantly as Mercedes thought of the right word. "Freckled."

"Ugh, I know! I'm covered!" Erin groaned a raspy yell like Tarzan and whipped the curtains closed yet again, catching water on Mercedes's arm and face.

"There's nothing wrong with being freckled, Erin." Mercedes replied calmly, answering her like a patient mother addressing her frenzied child. "Besides, Artie isn't shallow that way. He likes what's on the inside."

"I just wish my outside was as impressive as my inside." Her head burst out again, eyes wide in fright. "N-not that I'm interested or anything. I'm just saying."

Mercedes nodded emphatically, mouthing 'of course' as Erin rolled her eyes and applied her conditioner.

"Anyway, I'm not even interested in boys right now. They're way too much work." Erin replied, filling the silence. "I loved that song you were humming by the way, Mercedes. It was lovely."

Mercedes had forgotten she was even humming anything. "What that? Oh, that was just something my mom used to make me sing when I was little."

"_This little light of mine, _right?" Erin asked, surprising Mercedes with her accuracy.

"Yeah, that's it. She used to sing and play it to me all the time, until I was old enough to learn how to play it myself. She used to tell me that I had a light in me that could never be extinguished by anyone, not unless I let them." She smiled sadly at the memories, recalling a day not so long ago when she'd confessed to doing that very thing. "It encouraged me."

"My mom used to sing that to me, until she died. Then, my sister Ava would sing it to me. She had an amazing voice. Everyone always told her that one day, she'd be a big star and make it out to Hollywood. She always used to tell them that she'd never run off for fame, not unless Donnie and I could come with her. They never knew the hell we had to endure in that house."

Mercedes suddenly sobered, remembering why she'd wanted to invite Erin over in the first place. Since the conversation was going in the direction she wanted, she decided to follow along and see where it lead. "What was your family like, Erin? Your brother and sister, I mean. Were you guys always close?"

"Oh my gosh, we were joined at the hip!" she laughed. "Ava was such a mother hen. She would always make sure we ate and showered and dressed properly, as well as we could anyway. She was years older than Donnie and I, so she was like the mother we needed growing up. Dad didn't care at all, but I knew my sister loved us and would always be there." Erin turned the shower off, reaching her hand out blindly toward the towel rack to cover her hair and body. "She used to sing us to sleep every night. And, before we went to sleep, she'd make sure we said our prayers like mama used to make us do and kissed our foreheads…" Mercedes smiled for her friend, loving the bright images she painted of her early childhood.

"And your brother?" Mercedes asked, already nervous for the answer.

"Donnie? Oh, Donnie was the best big brother in the world!" Erin gushed. "He was strong and brave and always kept my secrets. I could tell him anything and he'd always understand. We were best friends before brother and sister. Some days, when good stuff happens to me, I wish he were still alive so I could call him up and tell him all about it. He was always the first person I ran to." Erin crouched down in her towels and sat on the bathroom mat directly across from Mercedes, appearing a bit deflated. "When daddy would get drunk and try to beat us, he would cover me with his body to make sure he got most of the blows. Sometimes he couldn't walk for days, and once, he was out cold for an entire week when daddy clocked him with a pipe. I was so scared that he was gonna die….." Erin lost herself in the pain of the memory. "Donnie would always take the blame for the things I'd do. When I'd break a dish or forget to refill daddy's shot glass before he sat down, Donnie would always say he did it so he'd get punished. I would always feel so guilty because daddy would beat on him harder because he was a boy. Donnie always said it was better that he got it, because he'd die inside if he watched daddy hurt me. After getting punished so much, Donnie stopped crying after a while and daddy would call him a stubborn ass and beat him more often. He called him trouble incarnate…."

_To Donovan….the one fan….that's gonna get me in trouble….._

"What about your sister?" Mercedes asked, shaking away the horrid memory of his words and leaning forward on her elbows to get closer.

"My sister had already taken off. I told you, I think daddy must have been abusing her long before us, maybe even sexually. Maybe she finally couldn't take it anymore and took off, wised up and found some apartment and a job somewhere. I don't really know." Erin shrugged. "Not that I blame her, though. If I knew better, I would have run off sooner and escaped, too. I just wish I could see her again."

"Did you ever try to find her?"

"Once." Erin said lightly. "I asked my adoptive parents if I could look her up and see if I could find her. They tried for me, but they told me that they couldn't find an Ava O'reily anywhere. They said she probably changed her name and skipped off, maybe even to a different country. I never tried again."

"And your brother?" Erin looked up in confusion, letting the tears fall. Mercedes slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing her grave error. "Oh god Rin, I'm sorry. I forgot. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to bring that up. It totally slipped my mind."

"S'okay." Erin whispered as she sniffled and wiped her cheeks. "He's probably better off where he is anyway. Less hurt and heartache up there I heard. I like to think that he's watching over me from heaven sometimes, like when I have a nightmare and I see a rainbow appear or I hear someone say something that he used to say, just when I need to hear it. I like to think, in those moments, that he's still with me."

Erin grabbed the corner of her hair towel and dabbed her eyes, missing Mercedes troubled expression. To her credit, Mercedes managed to straighten up and put on a genuine smile in time, encouraging Erin brighten up with a smile of her own.

"But enough with all this sadness and family talk! Don't think I've forgotten, Woman." Erin shoved the bottle of golden dye toward Mercedes's chest. "I didn't come over here to apply color myself, y'know."

"Bossy!" Mercedes teased. "I think going blonde might help you mellow out a bit, because all this dark color made you a little bitchy."

Erin squealed and laughed in delight, throwing her head back and tossing the towel around her head to the ground. Her laughter stopped when she hear Mercedes gasp.

"Bestie? Mercedes, what is it?"

"Erin…" Mercedes could say nothing more. Instead, she silently pointed to the mirror leaning beside her, telling her to look. Their eyes connected in the reflection, both in shock at the sight before them. Beautiful auburn waves cascaded down Erin's shoulders and back, framing her face in the softest curls. The fluorescent lights made her natural hue glow, and Mercedes saw the vivid hints of cherry red shimmer through. Erin's pale skin glowed under the color, and the freckles she hated complimented her even more beautifully than they did before. Without all the shadow and makeup, all the pretense and fluff, Mercedes saw Erin in an entirely new light.

"My hair…." Erin reached up a tentative hand to touch it, shocking herself with how soft and supple and _real _it felt in her hands. "I haven't been red in a long time. Not since I was ten." She touched it again in shock, quieting her voice to barely a whisper. "My hair…."

"You're beautiful, Erin." Mercedes said in awe, smiling proudly at her friend in the mirror as she placed her hands on her shoulders. "Absolutely stunning. You were beautiful before, but now…..It's perfect."

"You think?" she asked in a soft voice, gently running her fingers through her tresses. Erin looked at herself with the strangest expression, almost as if she couldn't believe that the image in front of her was real, let alone any reflection of her.

"I know, honey. It's you. Red is absolutely you." Both girls smiled as Mercedes bent down to hug her shoulders. She rocked her back and forth, side to side, until their smiles became grins and Erin broke out into pleased giggles. She picked up the bottles of dye, turned her face to Mercedes, and winked once, tossing them in the waste bin beside the toilet.

"C'mon, sit on my vanity. I'll do your hair for you." Erin excitedly accepted her hand, bouncing out of the bathroom to the main bedroom. Mercedes seated her in front of the oval mirror, better lit than her bathroom, and reached for a wide tooth comb. "First, I'll brush out the tangles. Then, we're gonna dry your hair and I'm gonna give you a touch of my curling iron to really make those waves pop! Then, I'm dragging you out to the mall to buy some new clothes to fit this banging new color and we are gonna celebrate! Artie won't know what hit him."

For once, she didn't protest the mention of his name or deny anything. "You really think it looks good, Mercedes?" Mercedes gave her a silent look in the mirror that said it all, allaying her fears and releasing the breath she'd been holding. Erin just watched her as she brushed her hair, sighing happily at the sight. Mercedes continued to hum her happy tune, bopping and shimmying as she worked.

"Y'know what I just realized, Mercy?"

Mercedes looked up at the mention of her other nickname. "What?"

Erin closed her eyes and grinned, leaning back against her chest. "I just realized why I liked you, right off the bat. It's your spirit." She said. "You remind me of Ava, of my sister."

"Is that right?" Mercedes replied, smiling through her guilty discomfort. She hadn't told Erin that she'd been fishing for information, hoping to get more clues about her family and her potential ties to her attacker. It was a stretch, a big one, but the gnawing feeling in her wouldn't go away. She was on to something, but had no idea how she would tell Erin without unnecessarily alarming her if she was wrong.

"What do you think happens to souls who suffer?" Erin asked, opening her eyes and bending her head back to look at Mercedes. "Papa says that they never rest and roam the earth, searching for a purpose, but Mom says that's utter nonsense and that he's an old fool who watches too many horror stories."

"I honestly don't know, Erin." Mercedes answered. "There's nothing I know of that tells us what happens."

Erin rested her hand over Mercedes's as she continued to comb. "You want to know what I think happens?" She offered, in a voice so full of childlike wonder that Mercedes had to indulge.

"What do you think happens, Rinny?"

"I think they come back and live again, like a reincarnation. They come back for a second chance at happiness." Erin's fingers clutched hers, stopping her motions. "You think, when I die, there will be a way that I can come back?"

Mercedes's heart bled for her, hearing the hope in her voice. She wouldn't tell her, not now. "Maybe, Erin."

"You think that…." Her face fell forward, shielding her face with a curtain of drying hair. "You think that, if I come back, God or whoever can make it so that I can see my sister again? See you again?"

"I'd like to think so, if that sort of thing really happens." Erin looked up, cheeks beet red from her withheld tears and the strain of her happy grin.

"I'll leave you signs if I do. Three of them."

Mercedes chuckled at the random number. "Why three?"

Erin shrugged. "I don't know. Good things seem to come in threes. God is three in one, the Three Stooges; third time's a charm…." She bit her lip. "My brother and sister and I. They're all good, all three."

"Can we not talk about death, Erin? I hate it." Mercedes begged.

"Okay, I'm done. I'm just saying….if I ever come back to you, you'd know. I'd make sure of it."

Mercedes nodded, resuming her brush strokes. "I'll remember that."

"Good." Erin replied, content. She sat up straighter and gave Mercedes room to finish her styling. "But, I'm not planning on dying anytime soon, so don't worry. I want a husband, a house, kids and the whole shebang before I kick the bucket." Nervously worrying her lip, she added, "And how am I supposed to do all that if you don't help me get my man?"

Mercedes squealed and poked her repeatedly, bursting with laughter and breaking the tension. "Ah! Finally! You admit it!" she yelled, clapping her hands. "I knew it! I so knew it! I knew you liked Artie!" Erin buried her blushing face in her hands, groaning. "Girl, we are gonna get you your man! Trust and believe!"

**O-O**

"So, with all of this, after intense debate and long thought, I finally made my decision."

Mercedes had recounted every detail of the past weeks with Bee after they'd had their session on Friday, including the weeks that she had been absent from the circle. And the counselor, moved and ever intrigued by all she'd heard, waited on the edge of her seat for Mercedes decision.

"And?"

"And..." Mercedes sighed, folding her hands. "I've decided to pursue the case."

Bee caught herself before she squealed, sitting on her hands and biting her lips instead. "To say I am proud of you for your decision would be a gross understatement. This is the boldest move you've made so far, Mercedes. This will change everything."

"I know. And I won't lie, it's kinda what scares me," she admitted. "But, talking with God and Erin and Sam….and Shane, of all people…I feel like I'm making the right decision. I feel like I can really win this."

"Now Mercedes, I won't lie to you. Your case is a tough one. It will be challenging, mentally and emotionally. They're gonna drudge up a lot of details about the attack for this case, maybe even expose some private things about you that you'd rather keep hidden." Bee warned, taking on her counselor tone. Mercedes thought back to Judge McMann's mention of her closet romp with Sam and shuddered. "But, this will also be a time for you to tell your story and give your voice to the world. You can be a survivor that's heard. It will mean so much to the girls in the circle and all over the world who've never had that chance. This is far bigger than you now, honey. But you know what? I think you have everything it takes to shoulder it."

Mercedes shook her head in disagreement. "No, I don't, Bee. I don't have the strength to shoulder any of this." Mercedes smiled at Bee's puzzled expression, answering her with a pointing finger toward heaven. "But with Him? When he fights my battles, I'm not afraid. My faith is stronger than any judicial system."

"Good for you, Mercy." Bee said, smiling. In her heart, she wasn't as confident. Bee hadn't believed in God since her mother's suicide. But, she did believe in the power of believing in a higher authority and made an effort to encourage the beliefs of her student clients. "You believe in him, and I'll believe in you. With that much faith, who knows what will happen?"

"The only thing that stresses me is the fragility of my case. I mean, all I'm going on is hearsay, limited witnesses, and my good name. How well will that stand up?" Two solid knocks on the door interrupted them.

"Can you please come back another time? I'm with a client." Bee walked toward the door when she didn't hear an answer and the knocking continued. "I'm currently with a client. My office hours are-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but is there a Mercedes Jones here?" asked a small blonde cheerleader with a pixie haircut.

"I'm sorry dear, but I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of a-"

"It's okay, Bee," Mercedes answered, eyeing the cheerleader curiously as she walked toward the door. "You're one of the cheerleaders that got sick, aren't you?"

The cheerleader nodded shyly, dipping her head. "I am, yes. I came by to talk to you about what you said in the hallway two weeks ago. Donovan hurt me, too."

The women glanced at each other, stunned. "Please, come in and sit down so we can talk," Bee urged, ushering her in and changing her door sign from "Come in" to "In session." Once Mercedes had pulled out a chair for her and she was seated, the blonde girl continued. "It was in Junior high school, when I was thirteen. Donovan and I used to date and I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world." She sighed. "He was always handsy, kissing me and touching me, but I never thought much of it. Teenage boys and hormones, you know? Besides, I thought it was a good thing. I thought it meant that I was attractive."

"Please continue," Bee prodded, grabbing hold of Mercedes's shaking hand beside her.

"Well, one night, we all went to an after game party to celebrate the varsity team's win. I've been a cheerleader for longer than I can remember." She smiled, and then frowned. "My daddy's a pastor and didn't approve of the whole cheerleader thing in the first place, so I had to sneak out and go. He thought it was too vulgar and…and trampy." Mercedes watched her eyes water and hurried to offer her the tissue box. "Thank you." Blowing her nose, she sniffled and continued. "The music was really loud and the crowd started to get rowdy, so Donovan offered to take me outside to his truck so we could be alone in a quiet place…." Mercedes gasped at the familiar scenario. "I should have known, right? I mean, what the hell kind of thirteen year old has a truck?! The bastard probably jacked it from his rich daddy or something."

"Did he…Did he just assault you?" Mercedes asked quietly, scared to hear the answer. She opened and shut her mouth to answer, but her reply never came out in words. Instead, her shoulders shook, then her head, until heaps of heavy sobs and gasping breaths came out and doubled her over. Bee and Mercedes then knew he'd done far more than assault her.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry. We believe you and you're in a safe place to share." Bee reassured, rubbing her back and handing her more tissues. "Did you tell anyone?"

"Who could I tell? Mom and Dad? I wasn't supposed to be at that party in the first place, let alone wind up in some truck with a boy. They would've thrown me out!"

"You don't know that. They might have understood. People's response to things might surprise you."

"When my sister got pregnant sophomore year, you know what they told her?" The blonde spat harshly. "They said that she was dead to them and her and that bastard of a baby can find somewhere else to whore it up. They wouldn't allow such _shame _in a house of God." She mocked bitterly, using air quotes. "If they treated her like that, how in the hell would they have treated me?"

"We understand…Mary." Bee told her, reading the name on the breast of her varsity sweater. "It wasn't a welcome environment for you to share. Not everyone has that privilege."

"But that's not why I'm here." Mary sniffed, wiping her nose clean and straightening up. "I came because I've sought help for my problems. I moved out of my parents' oppressive house, and moved into my sister's studio to help raise my niece. I've finally found some even footing, but never found the opportunity to confront him and try to get justice. I knew he went here after I transferred, but he'd pass me by and smirk, looking at me like I'm a piece of cheap garbage and I'd feel small all over again. I felt powerless and weak." She looked hopefully toward Mercedes. "Until you."

"Me?" Mercedes said, surprised. "Because of what I said in the halls?"

"When I found out someone else in this school had potentially been victimized by him, it made me sick to my stomach. I was there that day you found that message on your locker," she confessed. "But then, when you came back and told him off….and punched him! I just….I'd never felt that feeling in my chest before."

"Feeling? Inquired Mercedes.

"Liberation," said Mary. "For the first time in my life, I felt strong enough to face him. I felt powerful again. His eyes didn't intimidate me anymore. I didn't have to cower when he passed me. I could beat him. You confronting him shrunk him to size, from a monster to….human. Mortal. I could beat him." She smiled, reaching to grab her hands. "And I wanna help you fight him in court. I'll testify against him, give my account, whatever you need. If we're gonna bring him down, we're gonna have to stick together. All of us."

Mercedes frowned, squinting. "What do you mean all of us?" Mary pulled her up and ushered her to the door, beckoning someone from the hallway. To Mercedes and Bee's surprise, nearly thirteen girls of all different sizes, colors, and walks of life walked through, wearing matching expressions of hope. From the stoners and loners to the McKinley elite, all cliques were represented and lined up in an even row before her. Each girl stepped forward and hugged her one by one, whispering their words of gratitude and encouragement. One girl was mute and motioned to use sign language, but thought better of it and said her thank you as clearly as she could, however it happened to sound. One thin brunette wearing a beret expressed herself in nothing but French, but her tears and emphatic gestures were understood. Mercedes couldn't believe how quickly, how suddenly, her flimsy hearsay case had turned into a full-out, fist-and-cuff legal throwdown. God didn't just work in mysterious ways. He worked _quickly._

"Well, darling, I think you've just found the strength of your case." Bee told her, proudly and confidently. "And we were all right. It's bigger than you, my dear." The counselor's eyes scanned the array of faces, all open and eager to speak. "So much bigger than you."

**O-O**

**So, what did you think? Was the Shane/Mercedes scene a bit redeeming? Were you shocked by Donovan's stunt or did you expect something this ruthless and radical from him?**

**And what about Erin and Donovan? Are they really brother and sister? If not, then why the similarities? If so, then who was the dead little boy they found? And why didn't Donovan and Erin ever cross paths? **

**And what about Ava? Any theories? Why did she leave? Where is she? Why didn't she come back for her siblings? **

**Will the girls who came forward strengthen the case? Did you love how they were inspired by Mercedes? I always think that RIB missed the boat on Mercedes's star character potential. **

**Please review and tell me your thoughts! I love hearing from you all. It makes me feel closer to you somehow. (hope that's not weird and creepy lol) **


	23. Chapter 22 Truth

**A/N: Whoa, Mama! Chapter 22 is huge! This is the longest chapter because it is filled, and I mean FILLED, with drama and story progression. You might need to read it a second time to get all the facts straight in your mind. It's that deep. **

**Just two things: **

**For the sake of this story, nationals is before prom. It just works out better this way. And according to the ending, nationals is tomorrow. You'll see why that's such a problem when you read. =0)**

**The smut scene in this chapter is not _the _sex scene I had in mind for them. I have more planned, so don't feel cheated. This is just…..more progression. (wink) **

**Happy reading, lovelies!**

**O-O**

It's amazing what can happen in the span of forty-eight hours. One moment, Mercedes was a blubbering, devastated mess, waning in faith and desperate for answers. She had tried everything else, but nothing had given her the long lasting peace she'd needed. Growing tired and out of options, she'd surrendered everything to God and let it all go. The moment she left it in his hands, she could breathe again, trust again, rejuvenate and refocus. And now that thirteen other women like her had stepped up and stepped in like answered prayer, Mercedes spent the entire weekend researching like mad, finding anything and everything she could on Donovan and Judge McMann to support her case. Fact-finding became more than her hope. It became a justice-driven obsession.

"Babe, did you know that Larry, Eddie and Erin's brother Donnie all grew up in the same area?

They were only blocks away from each other! It could be an utter coincidence, but isn't that strange?" she asked over her laptop, nudging her oversized nerd frames up her petite nose as she typed and clicked away. They weren't prescription, but they made her feel smarter.

"Mmhmm." hummed Sam, frowning at a problem in his Algebra textbook. " How strange. Why in the hell is the answer 2xy?"

"Oh! And baby, the newspaper article I found says that the DNA tests done on the little boy's burnt body were inconclusive._ Inconclusive_, Sam! Do you know what that means?!"

"No babe, what does that mean?" Sam asked distractedly, rolling the body of his pencil between his teeth as he thought. "Oh crap, I forgot an x! How did I miss that?"

Mercedes huffed and lowered her screen to see his face. "Sam, are you even listening?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, babe, of course!" he answered with false enthusiasm, eyes briefly leaving his problem-solving to offer her a half-hearted smile. "I've heard every word you've said about this case the past two days."

It wasn't a lie, really. He had been listening. He'd been hanging on to her every word for two days straight. But, perhaps obsession had made her lose focus. As supportive as Sam was about all of this, he grew tired of hearing another man's name from his girlfriend's lips over and over for hours on end. If it wasn't Donovan, it was the judge, or Larry and Eddie. And try as he did to pay attention, it was extremely difficult for him to listen to his girlfriend talk about other guys, even if it wasn't in a romantic context. Donovan had already infiltrated every part of their lives, and now it seemed that he'd somehow found a way to worm himself into their most mundane tasks as a couple, like weekend homework sessions on Mercedes's bed. He missed the days where he could just crawl over to her, put their things aside, and free up enough space to make out. Now, that computer—her research—got in the way.

Why was there always something in the way?

"So, why are you acting so weird?" she asked him.

"I'm not acting weird!" he defended. "It's just..." He turned his textbook around to show her the challenging problems. "Algebra."

He returned to his writing while Mercedes frowned and gave him a judgmental glare, silently calling bullshit on his excuse. "And since when are you so focused on algebra that you can't take yourself away for a minute to talk to me or look me in the eye?"

He shrugged, stilling avoiding her stare, and pretended to be puzzled over a particular part of his second equation. "4xy minus…."

The clap of her laptop slamming closed ended his sentence. He felt the nudge of her foot against his knee, but stubbornly ignored it, tightening his lips. When he heard her sigh, he responded with a flat, emotionless, "What, Mercedes?" before looking up impatiently at her.

She put aside her laptop and took off her large frames, tucked her hair behind her ears, and beckoned him over to her side of the bed with a crook of her finger. When he didn't move, she nodded to assure him and patted the space beside her with a welcoming smile.

"No." He returned to his problem solving.

"Why?" she asked, confused by his sudden attitude. "I know it's not about homework. Be honest."

"Honestly? I just really, really don't want to hear you talk about Donovan anymore." His frown turned sad as he closed his books, staring at his lap. "It's been nearly a week since we've gone out and two days since the case, and we've hardly had a conversation."

"I thought we were just talking…" As soon as she replied, she realized what he was saying. They had been talking back and forth for days, but she could hardly recall a word he'd said back to her. It wasn't a conversation if no one was listening. They were just talking at each other. "But, we haven't had a conversation…."

"In about a week. Exactly," he replied, glad that she finally understood. "I feel like I am your last thought and it hurts, especially since you're always my first thought." He hated sounding childish, but he just wanted her to notice him.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, doe eyes wide in apology. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" he said quietly, tracing the letters on the textbook cover with his finger.

She beckoned him with her finger again, widening her arms."Please, baby?"

He crawled over to her side of the bed and accepted her embrace, settling himself between her thighs. She pecked his unyielding lips once, then twice, then three times, until he melted in her arms and responded to her touch. "I really, really hate when you do that," Sam said in a groan, closing his eyes as she kissed his neck." I can't stay mad at you."

"That's kind of the point." she mumbled, snuggling against his stubbly chin. "I don't want you to be mad at me. I hate it when you're mad. I just got caught up in all of this legal stuff and I lost sight of things. I lost sight of you. I'm sorry. I'm still learning how to balance all of this, so please be patient with me."

"I know," he sighed, rubbing her nose with his. The bit of guilt that had held his tongue before came creeping back. He knew she was going through more than he could ever fathom. He felt overwhelmed sometimes, and he wasn't facing half the pressure she was. How she managed to maintain her grade point average, participate in glee club, and pursue two separate cases was still beyond him. She really was a superhero. "I don't mean to be so…"

"Pouty?" she smiled, kissing the pink bulge of his jutted lip.

"Real men don't pout, Mercedes," he deadpanned. "But, yeah, for lack of a better description, I just got tired of always sharing you. I've had to share you with Shane, an enormous crowd of our peers, and now with thirteen girls and this case. We both know the world's gonna have you someday, when you're all big and famous. Then, it'll be movie deals and concerts, and our twenty kids…"

"Two, Sam," said Mercedes.

"Ten?" he begged. She rolled her eyes, smiling and saying nothing. "The point is, I just want the right to be a little selfish right now. I want to enjoy us while we're still just _us_, you know? Without anyone else in the way."

"Well, I'm here now and I'm all ears," she said melodiously, kissing his jaw. "And you're here on top of me. I'm _definitely_ not going anywhere." She felt his lips curl upward as she kissed his chin. "What's on your mind?"

Sam excitedly reached for his notebook and flipped to the very back, pulling out a folded sheet of white paper with a beaming grin on his face. "Look. I just got this yesterday."

The tiny crinkles framing the childlike gleam in his eyes melted her heart. Briefly, she wondered if his children—their children-would look as adorable when they were excited. She hoped so, with all her heart. "What is this?" Sam settled his chin on her chest, looking up as he watched her open the letter. She read the words silently as she toyed with his hair, twirling the strands around her fingers and rubbing his scalp. Her thoughtful expression was so endearing, the way her lips pursed and her forehead would wrinkle as she concentrated. Whenever she read anything, Mercedes would always mouth the final sentences and nibble the corner of her mouth. If she liked what she read, her face would relax, and that nibbled corner would twitch and rise in a soft smirk. If she hated it, her lips would even, but her expression remained unchanged.

When she finished reading his, Mercedes flattened the letter along his back and leaned down to cover his face in joyful kisses. "Sammy, this is amazing! All A's and most improved?! Oh my goodness, I'm so proud of you!"

Sam blushed. When Mercedes really loved what she read, she didn't contain her delight. His girl was always very free with her affections, kissing and hugging and touching with a beautiful grin on her face. Briefly, Sam hoped his children—their children—were just as affectionate as she was. He'd never get enough of them.

"Burt got it in the mail on Friday and my parents just got their copy in Kentucky. They called me this morning to congratulate me. Once they can get some time off work, they promised to bring Stevie and Stacie up with them for a weekend so we can all celebrate. I was gonna show you the day I got it, but you had that whole break in your case and I didn't think this was as important."

"Of course this is important, Sam! You've worked so hard for this! Don't you know your achievements are important to me? C'mere." She reached for his belt loops and pulled him up to his knees, prompting him to crawl closer and meet her lips. "I'm proud of you, Sam Evans." She said after their peck, just before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Her legs tightened around his middle, breaking down the support of his forearms and plopping his full weight against her. It knocked the wind right out of him, breaking their kiss.

"God, those legs are strong, darlin'," He said, breathing sharply. "Is super strength one of your powers?"

Mercedes nodded. "My other one is the ability to make blonde men drool and bend to my every whim."

"I better be the only blonde you're using those powers on," he growled, kissing down her neck. She hummed and nodded again, leaning her head against his as he kissed her. "I only like the smart ones who get straight A's and kick ass in their tutoring sessions."

"That's a lot of guys," he said, running his lips up to her jaw. "You gotta narrow that down."

"And wear Captain America shirts and way too much flannel," she joked. He sat up and shot her a look.

"You know flannel is the new black." Mercedes threw her head back busted out laughing, making him smile. "What else?"

"And they have to be named Sam Evans, or it's no deal."

"Better." He grinned, snaking his arms underneath to cup her bottom and ground his hips against her. "And why Sam Evans?"

She briefly closed her eyes and moaned, while gyrating her hips to match his movements. "Because I've gotta get him nice and weak so I can have my way with him. He can't know he's my kryptonite."

He kissed her soundly and moved to her ear, whispering, "Well, if you can keep a secret, I'm pretty sure Mercedes Jones is his kryptonite, too. But, it's completely hush-hush. You can't tell a soul. Pouting is his only defense."

She glggled at his silliness and turned to look in his eyes. "Deal." Sam kissed her again and rolled her over, settling her on top of him. This kiss lasted longer than the others, and once Sam introduced his tongue and kneaded her backside, Mercedes rolled her body against his and ran her fingers through his hair to scratch his scalp. Things grew heated quickly, and Mercedes could already feel the familiar stirrings in her belly from his touch, but the timing was all wrong. There was too much to settle, too many problems to deal with first so they could be free to give themselves to each other….

But damn it all, he felt so good underneath her, hardening between her legs.

"Samuel!"

They parted in fright and looked up to the voice heralding from the ceiling, looking around for its source.

"Yes, Mr. Jones?"

"Boy, get your simple country behind off my daughter. I like you, but I don't like you that much."

Mercedes hopped off him quickly and straightened her clothes. Sam sat up and wriggled the seat of his jeans, willing away his steadily softening hard-on. If any voice could ruin a mood, it was an angry father's voice.

"How in the hell did he know that?" Sam whispered to Mercedes, so Mr. Jones couldn't hear.

"I can smell testosterone near my daughter a mile away, boy." His booming voice bellowed, answering his question. "It's a daddy gift. You'll learn it someday."

When it grew quiet and Mercedes's stopped giggling in embarrassment, Sam and his daring behind decided to brave it over to the other side of the bed where Mercedes was, hoping to try again.

"Sam, what are you..?"

"Shh." He held his finger to his lips, wearing a mischievous grin as he slowly crawled over to her. He looked like those cheetahs on Animal Planet or the Discovery Channel, stalking their prey in the bushes. The bed springs squeaked and he paused, green eyes darting everywhere around him. Mercedes giggled again at his ridiculousness, and taking a leap of faith, Sam leaned back and sprung off his knees, landing on top of his girlfriend.

"Sam, you're insane!" She whispered, laughing quietly under the hand covering her mouth.

"Insane for you, love." He whispered back, removing his hand. "What daddy doesn't know won't hurt us."

Mercedes eyes darkened to a rich espresso brown, and she growled and pounced back, flipping him over and landing on top of him. She smiled with him and kissed him hungrily, careful to keep her moans silent this time around.

"Boy, what did I SAY?!"

Sam pushed Mercedes off of him and anxiously jumped off the bed. Mercedes lay frozen on her back, staring at him with a stunned expression.

"How in the hell does he do that?" Sam asked in shock, running his shaking hands through his hair. Mercedes threw her purple tie dye throw pillow over her face and groaned in frustration. Her bedroom door creaked open.

"Daddy gift, my boy. And you won't get it for a long, long, _long _time." Mr. Jones answered from the doorway. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go finish my work in the attic, right above baby girl's bedroom." He pointed to the vent right above her bed. "Where I can hear _everything._" Their eyes widened. Satisfied that his unspoken threat got through to them, Mr. Jones nodded out with a smile and a salute. "Happy studying!"

**O-O**

After a while, Sam and Mercedes were settled far more comfortably on her bed, with her sitting between his legs as they each finished their work. Sam was just finishing up his last algebra problem and Mercedes had just finished organizing her data when she spoke. "So, I figured out the other reason why you were so pouty. You thought I forgot, didn't you?"

"Forgot what?" he asked as he wrote, tapping the tip of his pencil on the page at the end of the equation and closing his notebook with a happy sigh. He was finally done. "I don't know what you mean."

She gave him a look. "Oh, whatever, Sam! I know this Friday is your birthday."

"Is it that time of the year already?!" he said, scoffing. "I didn't think you'd forget that. I have more faith in your memory. In fact, the very suggestion that I would pout for something so silly is ridiculous." She smiled at her computer screen, finishing up her typing. "So…." Sam drummed his fingers on her lap. "You got a surprise for me?"

"Well, since we're gonna do a lot of nationals prep for this weekend's competition, I figured we could do something earlier this week. Maybe Wednesday?" She suggested. "I already have the perfect date plan in mind."

"So, you're planning the date this time?" he smiled at the idea. "I'm liking this birthday already! But don't feel pressured by the awesomeness of my dates. I know I'm hard to top."

She rolled her eyes and playfully pushed his head away. "Boy!" she laughed. "I'll have you know my dates are just as epic! And just for that, I'm not giving you any clues about where we're going, or about the extra special gift that's been in the works for _months._"

"Months?!" Her grin broadened at his eager interest. "Well, it's okay. I like surprises anyway. I don't mind waiting for a good thing." Sam answered coolly. "Not like some divas I know that _pester _their boyfriends and use their feminine wiles to seduce birthday plans out of them on their birthday…"

"Hey, it was one time! And I just wanted to make sure I was wearing the right outfit. You wouldn't give me anything!" she insisted. He wagged his finger in her face, tutting at her lies. "Well, it worked and I have no shame about it. I didn't hear you complaining…."

"That's because it's kind of hard to speak when your girlfriend is sucking your…"

"Oh my goodness, Sam! Look at this!" she redirected his attention to her computer screen. "Look at the academic history I found on Donovan."

Sam leaned his chin on her shoulder to look over and frowned. "There's nothing here past middle school."

"Exactly! Remember I told you that Erin said her and her brother would be locked up for days at a time? Their father wouldn't let them out of the house. Wouldn't that make it impossible to attend school regularly? And look at this." She pointed to another window open on her screen. "There are no records of him anywhere until he was around twelve, when McMann adopted him."

"So, what does that mean? He's definitely Erin's brother? Why does it matter?" Sam asked.

"It would prove that he came from an abusive past. If I can tie the two worlds together, maybe it will give me answers for why he targeted the girls that he did. So far, I can't find a pattern." She opened another window, this time with pictures and profiles of information on all the girls that came forward. "Seven of the fourteen of us had a long term relationship with Donovan, either six months or more. Five of the seven knew him from middle school, and only two from high school, including myself. But the rest of us fall into the group of mere acquaintances. I and this other girl didn't even talk to him regularly. What was her name?" Mercedes scrolled down the list of girls until she spotted her. "Evangeline Miller."

"But, do rapists have to have a pattern? I thought only serial killers had patterns?" Sam asked, growing more curious.

"Rapists usually have an M.O." she answered, then turned her face and smiled. "That's lawyer speak for method of operation. In latin, it's _modus operandi._ I feel so boss for knowing that." she said proudly.

Sam smiled. "You are boss. And okay, so what about interests? On this one episode of criminal minds, the killer would only target dancers because he had some crazy fetish for ballerinas. Do any of the other girls sing?"

"I thought of that. Erin did tell me that her sister Ava used to sing all the time, even aspired to be a famous singer. I thought that maybe he was targeting girls who aspire to be singers, like me. But, I'm the only one of the group that wants to sing professionally. Emily and JoAnne play instruments, and Katherine won trophies for her piano skills, but that's as far as the musical lead goes."

"What about race? Is he only after black women? Biracial women?" Sam's arms tightened protectively around her waist. She shook her head.

"Most of the girls are white females, from blond and pale to tan and brunette. None of those make sense, either."

"So, the only odd clue is you and that Evangeline girl. You were the only two that didn't really know Donovan and he went out of his way to find you. Why?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Mercedes said with a sigh. They sat together quietly, staring puzzled at the screen for several minutes, until Mr. Jones voiced broke their concentration.

"Samuel! Mercedes!"

"Daddy, we're not doing anything!" Mercedes yelled back.

"I still need you both downstairs, baby girl. It's important." He yelled back.

She groaned and shut down her laptop, packing it and her power cord away in her lavender computer back. "Be down in a minute!"

Her mother's softer voice responded. "Come quickly, bug! Donovan and Judge McMann are on the news, discussing the case!"

Mercedes anxiously glanced back at Sam, who wore the same disbelieving expression. They untangled themselves from one another and bustled downstairs, running as quickly as they could. They slowed when they reached the last step, seeing Mercedes mom and dad stand behind the couch, watching the television with rapt interest.

"We were recording it just in case you didn't see everything, bug." Mrs. Jones said, pulling her daughter in her direction and holding her between her and her husband. "It's the strangest thing. I've already called Mel and invited her over so we can discuss our next move."

"What's going on?" Mercedes asked. Sam stepped close behind her, wondering the same thing.

"They heard about the thirteen other girls that stepped forward, baby girl." Mr. Jones answered, flexing his jaw. "Donovan's pleading not guilty."

"Is that surprising? It sounds like an appropriate move for a coward like him." spat Sam. Mr. Jones turned to him.

"He's admitting to what he's done, but asking for pardon, claiming he has a history of mental illness."

"Is he serious?" "Can he do that?" Mercedes and Sam asked together.

"Very serious, sweetheart. And yes,, he can do that, Sam. He is doing it. They planned the press conference from this morning. Apparently, they announced it around nine or so, but we were already in church."

"Shhh, McMann's about to speak. I want to hear what this snake has to say for himself." Mrs. Jones ordered, reaching for the remote and turning up the volume.

Judge McMann, wearing his signature tailored pinstripe, walked up to the podium with Donovan under his arm. Donovan wore his letterman jacket and a solemn expression, refusing to look at the flashing cameras around them. Judge McMann quieted the flurry of questions from reporters with a raise of his hand and a charming smile, and once they settled, he adjusted the mike to his height and spoke to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentleman of the press, and to all the family, friends, and concerned citizens of our humble town listening at home, my son and I would like to thank you for your attention, your love and your prayers."

"Aww, here it comes." Mrs. Jones murmured under her breath.

"What, Mama?" asked Mercedes, captivated by the television.

"The verbal diarrhea." The Jones family and Sam decided to walk around the couch and take a seat. Something in the tone of the Judge's voice and the look on Donovan's face told them that they would need to be seated to mentally process whatever they planned to say.

"I know most of you, if not all of you, have heard by now the rumors of my son's…..vast indiscretions." The judge said simply, biting his lip as if it pained him to confess such a thing. "Well, on the record, we come before you, not as your district attorney and star Mckinley linebacker..."

"Bullshit." Mr. Jones and Mercedes spared a glance at the wife and mother between them, taken aback by her atypical choice of colorful language, and quickly returned their eyes to the screen. Her response was appropriate.

"…but as your neighbors, your friends, your colleagues and servants, and tell you, with a heavy heart, that every charge placed against him is valid and true."

The barrage of questions intensified at the confession. Mercedes nearly fell off her seat, but Sam stretched a hand and held her back, halting her until the judge could quiet the crowd again and continue.

"It has been no secret that, in the past, my son Donovan has gotten into trouble for his wild behavior. Many even believed that, as a judge's son, he was punished more harshly than most, and I cannot deny that this was the case, most of the time."

Mercedes and Sam scoffed, frowning and shaking their heads. "But, very few knew of his very troubled and elusive past. You see, my son was a victim of a harsh and unusually brutal system we'd know as child protective services, shuffled between homes, lost in a mix of troubled youth and instability, uprooted without a moment's notice and placed in homes that were less than loving and kind to him. For most of his young life, he was nothing more than a case number. When I took young twelve year old Don under my wing, he was avoidant, violent and prone to lashing out physically and disappearing for days at a time. I had him evaluated by a professional when he was very young, hoping to uncover some of the deep rooted issues plaguing him. I had no information on his mother or father, no clues to his past, but I knew that I saw a boy who needed help. After several psychiatric evaluations from some of the top professionals in child psychology, Donovan was believed to have anti-social personality disorder. Fearing the worst, I did what most parents do and buried the diagnosis away, hoping with time and love, he would be cured. But sadly, that never happened. It only grew worse, and I am to blame."

"Mel said that there were no records on Donovan anywhere in CPS. Something's not right about this story." Mercedes mused quietly, storing the important information away in her memory for future reference. "And what's really messed up about all of this is that Donovan fits the diagnosis perfectly. I don't know if they're lying or cloaking the truth under the pretense of a lie."

"Boy, they can really spin a story in their favor, can't they?" Sam said. "I almost forgot that he was the attacker, not the victim."

"Maybe it's both, babe." Mercedes replied. "Maybe he's both."

"The wide-eyed and precocious youth you've seen before you all of these years has been nothing more than a mere cover for a pain and heartache that I as his adoptive father couldn't begin to understand. Every bad action was a cry for help, and I didn't listen or attend to him as I should have. And in all of my career successes and triumphs, I consider this my greatest and most troubling failure." He paused for a moment to dab his eyes with his cummerbund. "It's a hard thing for a father to admit when he's failed. And perhaps if my dear wife were still living—may she rest in peace—she would have been able to redirect my attentions to what was truly important. A moral compass, if you will, in times of confusion." He looked to heaven. "I miss you every day, love."

"Oh, give me a break." Groaned Mr. Jones, sucking his teeth. "The man is a Class A actor. I feel like I should be nominating him for an Oscar, not feeling sorry for him. Does he think Ohio will buy this garbage?"

A small square popped up on the corner of the screen, showing the reactions from the crowd witnessing the press conference behind the media. Donovan started weeping in his hands, and several citizens cried right along with him. One older lady they zoomed in on actually pulled out a rosary from her pocket and started praying several hail mary's, with tears streaming down her face.

"I can't believe this!" Sam exclaimed. "They're treating them like some untouchable Gods! Did everyone forget that he's being accused of raping and assaulting fourteen women? What about them?"

"But, even though she's gone, her spirit still dwells among us, with my son and me." Judge McMann clapped his hand behind his son's neck, pulling him closer and giving him a light hug. "And we've come to tell you now, dear Lima, that we, as a family, have decided to step forward and rectify the situation the best way we know how. " He patted Donovan's back and pushed him forward, giving him the mike. A red-faced Donovan stepped up, appearing to shake with sobs.

"I realized how truly sick I am and have made the decision to plead guilty. If the jury of my peers is merciful, I would like to seek inpatient treatment for the emotional and mental scars of my past so that I can have a hope for my future."

"Ain't this about a bitch." Mr. Jones got up and picked up the cordless phone, dialing a number. "I want Mel over here now. We need to talk about all of this." After a short pause, there was a response on the other end of the line. "Hey, Mel? It's Joe. Are you watching this circus show?" He took the call into the kitchen to have his discussion privately. Mrs. Jones and Mercedes watched him retreat, and Mrs. Jones placed a comforting hand around her daughter's shoulders.

"The fight's not over yet, baby. He hasn't won. I know it may look that way, but…"

"I gave it to God, momma. I'm….I'm trusting as best as I can." Mercedes replied. She felt Sam's hand slip inside hers and squeeze, silently supporting her.

"Don't let go." she whispered to him, eyes on the screen.

"I won't. I promise." He replied, watching right along with her.

"I would like to formally apologize to each of the fourteen women that I hurt. I will never forget any one of your faces and names. They will haunt me until my last breath." Mercedes grimaced at the brief, small smile that graced his lips. "And I want to dedicate a special apology to Ms. Mercedes Jones, the young woman I hurt most recently." Donovan's dark eyes looked directly into the camera. "Mercedes, if you're out there watching, please know how sorry I truly am. I know my words can never take away the pain, but I do hope that my apology offers some solace. And though it may be too much to hope for right now, I would love to reconcile and meet with you in the future, not as your attacker, but as your reformed friend. I have a long, long personal journey ahead of me before that time can come for us." His voice and face held the deepest sincerity, and it was so well done that she almost felt a bit of sympathy for him. But then, just before his eyes left the camera, he winked for her sake, and her guard returned.

"I see your game, Donovan." Mercedes said lowly, nodding. "And I'm still ten steps ahead of you."

Judge McMann rejoined his son at the podium, patting his back and nodding his approval. "Well said, my boy. And we plan to cover any legal and medical costs associated with any of the victims. We owe them all emotionally and monetarily. We are McMann men through and through, and if there is anything Derrick and I understand, it's the importance of taking responsibility for one's actions."

The crowd went silent, save for a few clicks of cameras. Donovan's head whipped around in horror, breaking character when his father uttered the wrong name. He pulled him down by the collar, away from the microphone, to his ear.

"What the fuck? You said Derrick." He growled in a whisper, unaware that the sensitive audio system captured every word.

"I did?" Judge McMann appeared shocked at his own slip-up. Apparently, it was more significant than they let on. Mercedes noticed a queasy, almost sickened look pass between them and the way McMann's face paled when Donovan brought the error to his attention. _Interesting…._

The judge's face relaxed, and his eyes drifted off in a haze of memory, lost in his thoughts. A small, sad quivering smile came on and left his lips as his mind wandered, and he uttered the name again, soundlessly.

"_Derrick."_

Both men remembered where they were at the same time and turned their faces toward the awaiting crowd. Donovan seemed grouchier and more perturbed than before, and McMann greeted his rapt audience with a sheepish smile.

"Old age does ridiculous things to the brain. I had to hire a guy to call me every morning to remind me to take my vitamins." He joked. The crowd good naturedly joined in with a hearty chuckle at his expense. Before he could continue, Donovan threw his father's arm off of his shoulders and stormed off, leaving the judge standing awkwardly at the podium.

"Thank you all for your time. My son and I will make another public statement after the trial." And with his famous wink and gun, Judge McMann ran after his son, with his security detail trailing closely behind him.

"What was that about?" asked Mrs. Jones, turning off the television.

"I have no idea." answered Mercedes. _But I intend to find out….._

"You're outside? Perfect. I'll open the door for you right now." Mr. Jones walked across the foyer, hanging up the phone with one hand and unlocking the door with the other.

Amelia came marching through the door, donning a power suit, complete with briefcase in hand. "When you called, I was just around the corner. I left the hearing for the internal affairs plea." She rested her briefcase on the hall table, opening the latches and removing her paperwork. "So, I've got some good news and some interesting news regarding the case. I figured I'd start off positive before we discuss that media show McMann put on." Closing the lid and resting it on the floor, she walked over to the couch and made herself comfortable, kicking off her heels and taking Mr. Jones's previous seat. He sat on the arm of the chair right next to her.

"First off, the I.A. investigation was a success. A couple of my friends in high places investigated those previous "sealed" cases from Donovan's Juvenille record." Mrs. Jones frowned and made a move to say something. "No comments, Pat. You have your ways and I have mine. My ways just happen to be a bit more under the table. Now, don't worry your pretty head, all of its legal since I didn't actually open his case files, but I did have to do some maneuvering to dig up the info on the girls, since they were tied to his cases as well. Sure enough, rape kits were mysteriously compromised within days of trial, police reports were missing vital data that was imperative to the prosecution, and large sums of money were exchanged between the Judge and a private Swiss account within days after each case's dismissal. Offering enough proof for reasonable doubt, our motion was granted to re-evaluate each case and have our trial led by a new judge, one approved by myself and the District Attorney's office. Since McMann isn't the only authority, and since we seem to have at least a couple of honest, decent people working over there, it looks like we're going to have a fair trial after all."

"That's awesome." smiled Sam.

"And the other news? The interesting one?" Mercedes asked pensively. Her wheels were still turning from the press conference debacle.

"Well, I received news that the assault charges were dropped this morning, for both you and Sam. Now that I've seen this morning's show, the move doesn't surprise me. My guess is that McMann planned to drop the charges all along. Probably meant it to be a scare tactic, to try and convince you to settle out of court or drop the charges. He wasn't banking on you holding out this long. But, how could he expect anything less, from _me _of all people?" She shook her head. "I mean, suing the person you are accused of sexually assaulting? Many people wouldn't be so bold. Only overconfident or insane men try to pursue a case like that. The courts still favor female victims. That much hasn't changed."

"So, what about us? Where does that leave us?" asked Mercedes.

" Well, for one, it means no more private schoolyard conversations with Donovan. Anything we say or do now is critical to the outcome of the case. If he approaches you, you don't say or do anything else but call me. From this day forward, the only words you say to him are 'I will only speak with my lawyer present." She told her. " And It leaves us with hope, Sugar. Lots and lots of hope." Amelia smiled and handed Mrs. Jones the stack of papers she held in her hands. "Here are the files you asked for. All of the details are there, in black and white, for you to review. You won't find a single dishonest move in there, I swear."

"I better not, Mel." She warned, softening her threat with a smile. "And thank you for everything."

"Thank me when we win, Pat. Then, we'll have something to celebrate." Smiled Amelia. The tired attorney slid back on her pumps and made her way to the door, grabbing her briefcase. "I'll see you in the a.m., Pat. And a wonderful rest of the day to everyone else." Everyone chorused their goodbyes.

Mercedes caught her at the door before she left. "Mel? About what we were talking about earlier?"

Amelia nodded and dropped her voice. "You found out anything interesting?" Amelia was the only one besides Sam who knew of Mercedes's theory about Donovan. Aside from her sage advice, Mel had the resources and the know-how to help Mercedes get the information she needed, within reason. It was a huge help when library resources and newspaper articles just weren't enough.

"Lots of interesting. But I can't seem to tie all of it together. It just seems like fragments of important information, pieces of a puzzle I can't solve. I'm so close to getting it, but I just…" Mercedes grasped for something just beyond her reach. Amelia stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Relax. Focus, honey. Don't stop hunting, just stop and re-strategize. Maybe you need another trip to the source?" she asked, referring to Erin.

"I don't want to involve Erin any more than necessary. If I'm right, this will devastate her. She's my friend, Mel. I don't want to use her and leave her in the dark. I already feel terrible for having suspicions and leaving her out of it. It wouldn't be fair."

"Won't she hear about it on the news?" Amelia asked.

"Doubt it. Her parents don't believe in television or outside technology inside the home. They're real old school Methodist. Besides, Erin doesn't care much for the news either way. She says it's too depressing and biased." answered Mercedes. "But, this story is bound to hit the paper this week, and I know for a fact that Mr. and Mrs. Bailey get theirs delivered every morning. And Erin is smart and always curious. Even if she doesn't put two and two together right away, she's bound to suspect something soon. I'm just buying time until I'm sure."

"Well, then keep finding those puzzle pieces, honey. Sooner or later, the overall picture will form." advised the attorney. "You know I'll be doing my end."

Mercedes smiled. "I know."

"But why, may I ask, is this so important to you? Even if Donovan is Erin's brother, and that whole crazy past turns out to be true, all that information will do is support his case. What are you trying to find?"

"I need to know why, Mel." Mercedes answered. "I need to know what caused him to do what he does. What makes a thirteen year boy a repeat offense rapist? Where did that shift happen? Maybe if I know, it will help me understand why he chose me and those other girls. I need to know why I was a target."

Amelia sighed deeply. "Okay, suit yourself, honey. But, just remember that the answers you find may be the very things you don't want to hear. It could hurt more than it heals. I just want you to know what you're setting yourself up for."

Mercedes considered her words and nodded. "Thanks for the warning. I'll keep it in mind." And with a brief hug goodbye, she closed the front door behind her and saw her off with a wave from her window.

**O-O**

Shortly after the news story, Mercedes received a flurry of texts from Tina, Santana, Quinn and all the other glee members, voicing their opinions on the press conference and offering words of encouragement and support.

Santana's text made her laugh the most.

**U want me to call my ppls, chica? Just say the word, and I'm pressing four. They can be at his house, grinding his balls in a blender, before he can run to daddy and tell. Hell, they can have him shipped to Costa Rica as some peasant farmer's bitch boy before you even make it to practice today!" **

She showed Sam, who shook his head and cringed at the idea, protectively covering his own ass and crotch with a pained expression as he ran upstairs to her room. Mercedes texted her back, laughing as she followed behind him.

**Sam doesn't approve, Tana. **

Her phone buzzed quickly after.

**Fuck what Trouty Mouth thinks. It's on and poppin' if WE say it's on and poppin'. Tell him to stop getting butt hurt for Donnie.**

At the mention of the familiar nickname, Mercedes quickly texted her back.

**Tell everyone to keep the news DL at practice today. I haven't told Erin yet and I don't want her to hear from anyone else.**

Mercedes got the chance to put on her sneakers and grab her bag and keys before Santana texted a reply.

_**Por que, chica? I thought she was in your sister circle or whatever? How come she doesn't know?**_

Mercedes wanted to explain it all later, in person when they were all alone.

**Phone conference w/ everyone later. Just keep it until, k?**

She and Sam said their goodbyes, jumped in the car, and made time to call his parents and tell them the news. When she didn't hear anything else from Santana in all that time, she texted her again.

**I know you don't like to keep stuff, Tana. Especially when you're mad. But, I really need this. Erin is a crier and I can't handle all of that right now. Please keep it, just for today?**

It was a lie to tide her over, at least until Mercedes could talk to her in person. She smiled when her phone buzzed soon after with Santana's reply.

**Just sent out the notice to Glee. You're secret's safe with me, chica. Keep me posted.**

Satisfied, she started up the car, turned on her Bluetooth, and prepared to drive over to Erin's to pick her up. Now that everyone knew to hold their tongue, she could bring Erin with her to practice without worrying that she'd find out.

It was a pain to hide it from her, especially when it involved potential family that Erin thought dead and gone, but it was only until Mercedes could get all of her facts in order. Besides, who said she was right anyway? Her whole mini investigation could be for nothing. It could just be a case of mistaken identity or unreasonable association. Maybe she wanted to believe Donovan was Donnie, just so she could find something redeeming about him. If he were Erin's brother, if he wasn't always monstrous, maybe it would be easier for her to find it in her heart to forgive. Maybe she could find a way to free herself from him and move on.

Sighing, she pressed the small button on her earpiece and spoke after the beep. "Call Erin." She instructed. Her phone rang seconds later, chiming twice before the bubbly, joyful sound of her friend's voice nearly blew out her eardrum. Mercedes couldn't help laughing.

If Erin was truly Donovan's sister, if he was the same Donnie that protected her and made her laugh and took the brunt of their father's rage for her sake, could he really be _all_ bad?

Was that Donnie still in him somewhere? And how would that change her case?

How would it change _her_?

**O-O**

"You really think this looks good, Mercedes? You're not just saying that?"

"Erin, will you stop worrying? You look amazing! You're just not used to showing any skin, that's all. It's tasteful and gorgeous and you, and Artie's gonna love this Erin just as much as he loved the Goth one." Mercedes reached out to swat her hands away from the hem of her skirt. "And stop pulling it down or you're gonna rip it!"

"Sorry! I'm just nervous about all this. It's so new. So….colorful." Erin replied. True, her red and gold ruffled skirt and fitted hoodie were a far cry from her usual wardrobe, but the essence of her style was still there. When they had gone shopping, Mercedes had made a sound effort to keep her style in mind. Her clothing now reflected the whimsical wonder and lively spirit of Erin, without being too overdone or girly. The Vans she wore reflected that perfectly, and the matching top inside had a skull and crossbones emblem plastered across the front. Even her hoodie had "Go Goth or go home" written on the back in bleeding cursive, and her earrings and necklace held a small silver skeleton dangling from a noose holding a small broken heart with a ruby in the center. From afar, because of the way the jewel was embedded in the small charm, it looked like a droplet of blood dripping from the middle. Ruby was Erin's birthstone, rocked in a way only Erin could rock it.

"It's still very you, Rin. I bet everyone's gonna love it. I know the girls are gonna freak out over your hair. It's gorgeous." Mercedes said, tousling Erin's soft waves and running the strands through her fingers. "And they're gonna love your new clothes…" Erin nodded, still a bit unsure." And you're cute wittle freckles and bwilliant bwue eyes!" Erin swatted her hand away, scrunching her nose when Mercedes pinched her cheeks.

"Okay, Okay! Stop it, Mom! I get it!" Erin laughed, rubbing her cheeks to help her blush fade. "They're gonna love me. Now will you open the door?"

"Uh oh!" Mercedes gasped, hands over cheeks." I think we've got a bit of sunshine on the corner of that lip! Rumor has it, if you rub it with your thumb, it may spread over your whole face." Mercedes pretended to lick her thumb. "Here, let mama get it…"

Erin jumped back, shrieking. "No spit! No spit on my face!" Mercedes chased her around in a small circle until she could reach her and smoosh her thumb on the corner of her lip, waggling it back and forth and rubbing it in her skin.

"Ah! See, I told you!" Mercedes tutted, smiling. "Look at that. Sunshine all over that face!"

Erin leaned her back against the wall and smiled, tucking her loose strands behind her ear. "Thanks, Mercedes. I know what you did there."

"What? You really did have sunshine on your face!" Mercedes insisted. "I had nothing to do with it. Now, it's all over you." She pointed to her lips. The girls shared a smile. Mercedes opened the auditorium door and looked back. "And if that happened to make you forget about feeling self-conscious, well…..I had nothing to do with that, either."

Erin laughed and followed her inside.

**O-O**

The auditorium was well lit and live with activity onstage. There were blue safety mats scattered across the floor, and all of the New Directions crew was wearing some form of workout attire, practicing their choreographed combat moves under Blaine's direction.

"No, no, Tina! You've got to keep that elbow sharp and that fist firm for an uppercut!" Blaine yelled, dabbing his sweaty brow with the towel around his neck. Puck laid still on the mat below them, with his eyes closed and tongue sticking out, pretending to be knocked out cold.

"I'm trying, Blaine, but my arms get floppy! I'm scared I'm gonna really hurt him." Tina explained, plopping herself on the floor and reaching out to massage Puck's jaw. Blaine groaned in frustration.

"But he's the perp! In the choreography, you're supposed to want to hurt him!" They had been going at this particular segment of the choreography for several days, and Blaine was growing frustrated. Plus, he had the pressure of redesigning the entire routine for a smaller group, since Rory had left after the choir room attack and Artie and Mike had not been cleared for performance by their doctors. Coupled with their costumes and instruments being destroyed, and his boyfriend constantly unloading his own stress about Nationals on him, Blaine was at the end of his rope.

"Why is it so difficult for you to harness your aggression, Tina? Just pretend that Puck is someone else, someone you hate, and put your all into it!"

"Chill, Blaine. Tina's not like that," Mike added from the sidelines, rubbing his injured side as he walked over to them. "We've been through a lot. Give her a break." Blaine left them in an annoyed huff. Mike knelt down beside his girlfriend. "Babe, just throw yourself into it. It's just pretend. You're not really going to hurt him."

"I know, but as soon as I'm about to do it, I freeze up. When you and Artie got hurt, I froze up, too. I don't know what's wrong with me. Everyone else seems to get the hang of it." Tina looked around the stage, watching her friends in mock combat. Quinn had effectively flipped Joe over her shoulder and kept his body to the ground with a mock sharp heel to his ribs. Santana had Finn in a chokehold and Brittany and Sugar were at the far end of the stage pretending to spar, since they were short on guys.

"It's just acting, babe. No one's gonna get injured. You wouldn't hurt a fly. We all know that. Just….throw a couple for the team, hmm?" Mike ran his thumb over her lips, making her smile. Blaine's sudden clapping and cheer startled them.

"Yes, yes, YES! See, _this _is what I'm talking about, people! Now that looked realistic! I never thought I'd say this, but why can't everyone else be more like Rachel?" Blaine said, gesturing to the growling brunette looming over her boyfriend. She had effectively laid out his six foot frame on the ground and pinned his arms and legs with her own, using her forearm to press against his neck and cut off circulation.

"Rachel….stop….can't …breathe…" rasped Finn, turning red from the pressure on his airway.

"No way, perp! You're going _down!"_ Rachel barked, growling in his face. When his eyes started to cross, Quinn pried her tense form off of him before he lost consciousness. Finn greedily inhaled, turning on his side to breathe better.

"Rachel, it's just pretend. You can't kill him. He didn't actually do anything." Quinn chuckled, rubbing her back to calm her down.

"Right, right…just pretend." Rachel rolled her neck and shoulders and sniffed. "I don't know what it is, but ever since we've been learning all these defense moves, I feel like such a badass. Like I'm a walking weapon of mass destruction or something." She wiggled her fingers in the air, smiling evilly. "It feels really good."

"Welcome to the dark side, young one," said Santana, pinning Blaine on his stomach and trapping his arms behind him. "Maybe you need to stick to that pescatarian diet you've been on. That protein has actually made you…..likable. You're less bitchy when you're full."

"You're right!" smiled Rachel, completely missing the small dig at her usual character. "I feel sharper and stronger, too. Like…like everything around me is brighter and clearer. I've even been more regular and lost that awful pound of baby fat in my cheeks. Animal protein is _amazing!" _

"More regular, hmm?" Artie said quietly stage left. "I always knew Rachel's problem was that she was full of shit." Sam chuckled quietly behind him, just as Artie spotted the girls walking down the aisle. "Hey, Cedes! We thought you got lost in that bathroom. We almost sent out a search team." He joked. His face brightened when he saw Erin. "And DAMN! Who is that fine, tall drink of water walking in with you? Whoever that is, you gotta give a brotha them digits and tell him whassup, cause I think I just spotted my future wife."

Erin beamed and ran ahead, jumping up onto the stage. "Oh, can it, wheels. You know it's me. You like? I wasn't sure if red was my color."

"Damn, you know any color looks good on you, girl." Artie said in his player voice, nodding and licking his lips. "But, red is definitely the one that gets the blood flowing, you know?"

"Is that right?" Erin replied with a flirty toss of her hair. "Well, since this is my natural color, it's even better." He wheeled over to meet her in the middle, until her shins bumped his knees.

"And why is that?" he asked lowly.

"Because." She trailed her finger down his chest, tucking it into the V of his sweater vest. "The curtains already match the drapes. Wanna get the blood flowing on the sight that matters, right?"

Artie whistled. "Damn, lyrics. Now you got me fiendin' for a peek." They both smiled. Their banter had been this way since the day they met. It was the strangest thing. Some people took months or years to get comfortable enough for the conversations they had, but Artie and Erin found an unspoken comfort in each other's presence, like they were brethren of the soul. It was light and easy without trying, a refreshing change for both of them.

Erin glanced quickly at his lap, doing a little lip licking of her own. "Is the best seat in the house occupied or does it still have my name on it?"

"Girl, you don't even need to ask." Artie patted his lap. "C'mere. You betta get on it!"

Erin grinned and hopped in his lap, crossing her legs and kissing his cheek as he wheeled them back to the corner. "How are the new wheels working out? It was pop-pop's wheelchair before he got the electric upgrade, so it's kinda old, but it's still in pretty good shape."

"I'm grateful. My back-up ride was my old wheelchair from sixth grade. The seat was too small and the metal was rusting. My dad thought he'd have to buy me a new one, until your dad gave me his. It's really comfortable and it swivels like a new ride! Watch this." Artie spun them around and popped a wheelie to demonstrate, much to Erin's delight. "Tell pops I said thanks."

"And he said to tell you that you're invited over anytime for a home cooked meal and some southern hospitality. My parents really admire you for what you did. I mean, surviving a mugging at knife point? Knocked out of your chair, no less? You're amazing!" Erin gushed. "It's a shame how cruel people can be these days. I mean, all of that for a wallet, you know?"

"Mhmm, all for a wallet." He replied with a jittery laugh. "A shame." Since Erin wasn't supposed to know anything about the real reason he was mugged, Artie decided to change subjects. "So, I see you're still wearing my laces, after you practically stole them from my sneakers."

"I did no such thing!" Erin huffed indignantly, looking over his shoulder toward Mercedes. "Do you hear this garbage, bestie? He's so full of it!"

"I know, Rin, I was there. He practically begged you to have them." Mercedes said back, smiling at Artie's teasing tongue. "You know it's true!"

Once Artie wheeled Erin a safe distance away from them, Sam pulled her to the side, behind the curtain, to talk. "Judging from how happy she is, I'm guessing she didn't watch the news today."

"No. Luckily she was studying the whole day. It is getting close to finals." Mercedes cautiously whispered back, watching Erin and Artie laugh out of the corner of her eye. "She said she's been locked in her room the whole weekend, cramming."

"I need to be doing the same. Junior year is the worst," groaned Sam. "She's in the same boat. Maybe I should ask her for tips."

"Did you remind everyone to keep it together while Erin's here?" Mercedes asked him.

"Yeah, everyone's on board. Joe, Sugar and Rory didn't get the text because they weren't in our usual text group, but I filled them in before you guys came in." he assured her. "Your secret's safe, love."

"Good. I'm gonna go get changed into my sweats for practice." She said, pulling her hair into a loose bun and pulling her backpack off her back to pull out her change of clothes. Sam stopped her before she stepped away.

"Hey." He pulled her in and kissed her lips, long and slow, until she smiled and curled her arms around his neck. "Daily reminder that I love you."

"I love you too, Sam Evans." Mercedes answered happily, kissing him once more. "You've been so awesome through all of this. I don't know how I could ever thank you enough."

She looked questioningly at his sly grin. "What? What are you thinking?"

"You know what would be an awesome present?" He said, tucking his hands in her back pockets and pressing his pelvis to hers. "A repeat of our day on the beach."

She smiled back, catching on and rubbing herself against him. "You would ask for that, wouldn't you?" Glancing behind her to make sure no one was paying attention, she reached between them and slid her hand into his jeans, cupping him through his boxers. "Mmmm…and how I want to reward you. Over and over again."

Sam mewled slightly and ground himself against her hand. "So what's stopping you?" he asked, hissing loudly when her fingers wormed their way past the flap of his boxers. "Damn Mercy, please stop doing that if we're not going to finish."

She nuzzled the underside of his chin with her soft lips as she continued to toy with his cock, stroking the sensitive flesh until he firmed in her hand. "Who said I don't want to finish this time?" The tip of her tongue grazed his Adam's apple, and she looked up to see his reaction. He moaned and shivered in her arms. "Who says I don't want you to finish right now, in my hands?"

"Okay, gang! Gather in!" Will announced, clapping as he walked center stage. "Kurt and I have some announcements to make." Kurt followed him in shortly after, wearing a measuring tape around his waist, a long strip of fabric down his leg with various sized pins, and a satisfied smirk on his face.

Sam whispered several obscenities under his breath at the interruption, until Mercedes silenced him with another kiss. "Later." she promised, pulling her hand out of his jeans. "It'll be worth the wait, baby. I know it's hard…"

"You have no idea _how _hard." Sam strained to reply. "But later, yeah. I can wait."

Mercedes patted his cheek and ran off to quickly change, before she missed too much of the meeting. Puck stepped out of the shadows just as she left, smiling at the entire scene he'd witnessed.

"Serious case of blue balls, huh?" he grinned, patting his friend on the back as they walked toward the group.

"You have no idea, Puck." Sam groaned, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. "No fucking idea."

**O-O**

"Alright people, hurry up and gather round." Will called again, lowering his voice when everyone was present. "Now, as you all know, Monday's debacle left us in quite a bind. Not only did it rattle us as a team, but it hurt us as individuals. A good portion of our team was physically attacked." He glanced over at Artie, Mike, Santana and Brittany. "Some of us suffered a blow to our character." Finn nodded and Mercedes stepped in beside him, wearing her sweats. "And all of our costumes, instruments, and sheet music for nationals were destroyed and left in our choir room as a silent threat to the stability of our club. So many have said that we couldn't make it, that we were worthless, insignificant, and unable to stand on our own two feet." Will looked at all of them and smiled. "But, if there's one thing Glee kids know, it's how to bounce back from adversity, to defeat the naysayers and silence the voices that tell us we can't, in the only way we truly know how. We pick up the ashes they leave us, blow life into it, and rebuild."

"At first, the shreds of my designs devastated me." said Kurt. "There was so much hard work and heart put into those costumes. But, as I looked at the ripped material in my hands, suddenly, inspiration struck me. I realized I was trying so hard to recreate something new, that I didn't see the fabulous potential in the ruins."

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked.

"Well, our theme for this year is vintage, isn't it?" Everyone nodded. " And our choreography is very tae-kwon-do, old school karate inspired, is it not?"

"I already like where you're going with this, Hummel," Puck said, a sly grin forming on his face.

"After I tell you, you're gonna _love_ me! I thought our new costumes could be homage to the classic 80's video game and short lived cartoon series…" Kurt pulled a red strip of fabric from his pocket and tied it around his head, judo chopping the air and bouncing back and forth on his toes. "Street Fighter."

The entire group of new directions cheered. "The guy's costumes are very rough and organic looking, with jagged hems and unseamed muscle shirts. The girl's costumes are much cleaner, very classic karate robes with black sash. It's the perfect cover for the costumes you'll wear in the Trouble Tones number following the opening. Those designs are way more biker and hard edged, with feminine colors sewn throughout to give that strong 'I am woman, hear me roar!' vibe! Isn't it awesome!?" Kurt hopped excitedly, eager for their reactions.

"Babe, that is the best idea ever! You got all that from shredded fabric?!" Blaine exclaimed, hugging his boyfriend and kissing his lips.

"I've gotta say dude, this is the most boss idea you've ever had," said Sam.

"Fucking awesome," Finn added.

"And thank God there's no sparkly fabric!" praised Puck. Everyone chuckled in agreement.

"I think you've really found your thing in designing, Kurt. Well done." Quinn praised, lacing their fingers and bumping his shoulder. "I'm proud of you, honey."

"We're all proud of you, Kurt." Tina added, joining him on his other side.

"We're gonna look so badass thanks to you, Tinkerbell. Now I can't wait for Saturday to get here." complimented Santana.

"And, Mr. Sanchez, the kind father who donated the instruments on behalf of the sister circle, had the presence of mind to insure all of the instruments gifted to us. We should have a brand new piano, set of drums, cymbals, and all of our string instruments delivered by the end of this week." The entire club clapped and rejoiced, until Mr. Schue settled them down. "Now, we have to take extra care of these new ones. I've asked Figgins to set up a camera in the choir room for surveillance at all times. It cuts into our Glee funds, but I definitely believe it's worth the investment."

"Definitely, Mr. Schue. It's a great idea." Mercedes said. "No more surprises."

"They won't hurt us again, Mercedes. Not on our watch," Will assured, rubbing her shoulder.

"Who won't hurt Mercedes again?" The entire auditorium went silent at Erin's voice. They'd almost forgotten she was here. "What happened, bestie? Who are _they_? And what happened to the choir room?" Erin asked, hopping off Artie's lap even though he tried to pull her back.

Mercedes had made sure to tell everyone to keep their mouths shut about Donovan….everyone except Mr. Schue. Everyone in Glee looked anxiously her way, sending silent apologies for the spilled secret. Tina, to her credit, looked like she was trying to think of a tasteful lie, and Quinn and Santana were already at her side, supporting her and whatever she planned to say. Going for broke, Mercedes exhaled deeply and decided to tell Erin the truth.

"The guys that attacked me came back to my school and destroyed our choir room." She explained. "Then, they hurt some of my friends and left a threatening message on my wall."

"Omigosh, that's awful! Did you report it?" Mercedes bit her lip, looking behind her to Sam.

"I did." She answered. "And I'm getting it rectified as we speak." Sam nodded in approval, rubbing her back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Erin. "I would have helped you kill the bastards! I would have fought anyone who hurt you, Mercedes. Why didn't I know?"

That was the challenging question. What could she tell her? _I think my attacker might be your long lost brother, and I couldn't live with you killing a relative for me? _Or _I've been hiding this secret from you because I didn't want you to know your brother had turned into a monster?_

As much as she told herself she'd kept the news of Donovan a secret for personal reasons, she also knew that part of her couldn't bear having Erin hate the brother she loved and worshipped so much. She didn't want to take those fantastic memories away from her. They were the only bright spots in her dismal past.

"I didn't want to worry you, Erin. It's being handled in court and I've gotten a lot of help. Besides, I had a hard time discussing it. It was a lot to bring up, since the attack is still so fresh for me." She answered. It wasn't a lie. It had been difficult to talk about, just not for the reasons she'd told Erin.

"I understand." Erin said soothingly, hugging her friend. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. Whenever you're ready to tell me, I'm ready to listen."

Mercedes smiled in her embrace. "Thanks, Rin. I appreciate it." Mercedes's eyes met Artie's sad ones just before she left Erin's embrace. They shared a look of understanding and dread.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to get my karate chop on!" he said, clapping his hands. "Now I may not be cleared by my doctor, but someone is getting a pseudo ass whooping from me before we leave practice!"

Everyone smiled at the change in mood, quickly dispersing and resuming practice. Artie wheeled over to Mercedes.

"I don't know why you're hiding this from Erin, but I do know that it's probably for her own good. I trust that." He told her quietly. "Just don't keep it forever, Cedes. I'd hate to see it destroy your friendship." And with that, he grasped and let go of her hand as he wheeled away and joined the rest of the crew.

**O-O**

"Puck, I'm telling you, man. I still can't believe it. I thought for sure that Mercedes would've had to tell Erin about Donovan." Sam said via Skype, laying his clothes out on the bed for his birthday date while he spoke to his friend. "It's been three days and she still doesn't know a thing. I know it's killing Mercedes."

"They didn't say anything at the circle meeting or whatever? Did she tell them about Donovan? I'm surprised they didn't blab as soon as she walked in. They're cool and all, but I don't know how much they can handle." said Puck. Mercedes had filled them in on Donovan's possible relation to Erin during a Monday group chat, so everyone in glee knew of her suspicions. Puck, being the protective big brother that he was over Mercedes, didn't trust anyone outside of glee to keep her secret.

"It's a therapy group, Puck, not a gossip group. They're used to keeping confidential information to themselves." Sam lifted up two short sleeved shirts. "Black or dark blue?"

"Dark blue. It brings out your eyes." Puck sarcastically suggested. Sam considered both for a moment and threw the black shirt to the side, tossing the blue one on the bed. "And they're used to keeping stuff from people _outside. _They've known Erin longer than they've known Cedes. They might pick sides." Puck said, adjusting his earpiece. "Damn, I hate these Skype headsets. They don't make them for Jewish ears."

"There's no such thing as Jewish ears, Puck. Ears are ears," Sam deadpanned, sliding on his shirt and plugging in the iron to press out the wrinkles in his black denim. "It's not special just because you add 'Jewish' before it."

"Says the blonde goyim with everyman ears." Sam rolled his eyes and picked up the laptop, ignoring Puck's Yiddish sass. He turned his screen to focus the webcam on his jeans. "What do you think? They're black and fitted, but comfortable. It should be appropriate for wherever Mercy's gonna take me. I'm gonna bring my blue and white fitted sweater just in case we go somewhere colder, like near the water."

"What do I look like, Kurt?!" Puck sassed. Sam turned the screen to his face, slowly raising his middle finger in front of the webcam. "It's fine, I guess. I hope it's cold wherever you're going, to keep that hard-on down. We don't want any embarrassing accidents."

"Don't even joke about that shit, man. It's been torture." Sam groaned, stepping away briefly to slip on his jeans. "Every time she kisses me, I feel like I'm gonna explode."

"Damn, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was that serious." Puck said, wide eyed. Sam sat to put on his shoes and spray on his cologne. He sat the laptop on his lap once he was done and faced Puck, running his fingers through his bangs.

"You don't even know, dude. Everything she does gets me going, you know? And the messed up part is she doesn't even realize when she's doing it most of the time. It's been a while since we…..you know."

"Fucked?"

"Made love. And it's not her fault, but, it's been _really, really _difficult to control myself. She's just so….ugh! The way she kisses my neck or brushes against me. The way she crawls to sit between my legs wearing just her boy shorts when I come over her house. The way her hips swish when she walks or how she eats a pickle…."

"A pickle, dude? Really?!" Puck laughed hysterically, falling over on his side.

"It's not funny, Puck! That shit's serious! Can you imagine those juicy lips around a pickle?!" Puck stopped laughing and seriously considered it. His eyes lit up. "Okay, stop thinking about it. That's my woman."

"Hey, all's fair in the imagination." Puck said, shrugging.

"The point is, she's like…. walking porn." Sam groaned, shifting his hips just thinking about her. "I can't take much more of this, man."

"Well, speaking of porn." Puck said, sitting up and calming his laughter. "Why don't you just do what every other normal teenage boy on the planet does and rub one out in the meantime? That might end your problem."

"Mercedes has ruined me, dude. I can't even look at another woman and get turned on the way I used to. She's more than sex. I…" he smirked and shrugged. "I love her, man."

"Aw, fuck. It's worse than I thought! You've been emasculated by the pussy." Puck sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "Many of my bros have gone out that way, Finn, Mike….but I thought you would be one of the ones to pull through. I had faith in you, playa!"

"It's Mercedes, dude!" Sam laughed. "I mean, I plan on marrying this girl someday. Looking at anyone else would feel like cheating. I can't do that to her."

"Well, amen for you and your morals." Puck declared, mocking him with a slow clap. "If you'll excuse me, this Yiddish heathen is going to sign off and leave you to take his own advice."

"TMI, dude." Sam said disgustedly. "Mercy should be coming over soon, anyway, so it's cool. Catch you later."

Just before he logged out, Sam heard Puck's voice say, "Dude, on a serious note though?"

"Yeah?"

Puck sat straighter, scrunching his face in mild discomfort. He always did that when he talked about anything emotional. "I haven't been what you and Mercedes went through with any girl I've dated, so I have no idea how the sex thing goes." Sam sighed. "And I know that Mercedes isn't a quick tumble in the hay. She deserves to be loved and deserves a decent guy like you to love her."

"Thanks, man." Sam smiled.

"But, I know how it can get when you've been in a dry spell for too long and you dive into sex right away. It's all animal instinct and hormones. Mercedes deserves better than some rough and tumble mistake when you guys decide to hop in the sack again. Alleviating some of that…tension might be the most loving thing you can do for her. Maybe not for now, but….for whenever, you know?"

Sam nodded, swallowing hard. "I hear you, man." The last thing he wanted was to be rough with Mercy and scare her away again.

"Cool." nodded Puck. He sniffed hard, clearing his throat. "Love you, dude." He said, in his manliest voice.

"Love you too, Puck." And the two signed off and closed their skype windows.

Sam eyed the internet explorer icon on the side of his screen shortly after, thinking hard. Puck could be right. What could it harm? All it would do is get a quick orgasm out of the way so he could enjoy his birthday night with Mercy and focus on enjoying his time with her. If all he had was sex on the brain, it would distract him the entire night.

Plus, what if Mercedes had decided that tonight would be the night that she'd give herself to him again? He'd hate to disappoint her with a short and eager performance. Or worse, hurt her by being too aggressive.

He clicked on the icon, opened his Google search, typed the words **PORN **in all caps, and clicked hurriedly on the first link that popped up.

Looking through all his options on a site cleverly named , he easily chose the interracial option and browsed through the selection of videos.

He grimaced in distaste at all of the videos depicting black men ravaging white women. There were hardly any couples out there that looked like him and Mercy. The few that did had a skinny, near anorexic black actress as the star. Hardly close to a turn-on for him.

He almost lost hope, until he reached the third page and spotted an image of a full-figured black woman sitting on a muscular white man's lap, legs spread wide as she sat on his dick and touched herself.

Her lips and eyes looked just like Mercy's own, and, judging from the swell of flesh behind her, had as much glorious backside as his girlfriend.

_Perfect. _

**O-O**

Mercedes happily skipped to the front door of the Hudson-Hummel residence, ringing the doorbell a little more eager than necessary. She couldn't wait to see Sam's face when she showed him her surprise. He'd flip! It had been a long labor of love, with a lot of her father's help, but it was finally finished in time for his birthday.

She rang a second time, and Burt greeted her with a smile at the door.

"Mercedes! You're early! Here to pick up the birthday boy?" Burt exclaimed.

"Yes, sir! Is he in the living room?"

"No, he's upstairs still getting ready. Between you and me, these boys take longer than girls do in the bathroom." Mercedes giggled at his humor. "Nice cake! Did you bake this?"

"Yeah, just this afternoon. It's Sam's favorite." She held up the small twelve-inch round for Burt to sniff. He inhaled happily, licking his lips and moaning.

"Mmm. Strawberry shortcake with chocolate dipped strawberries on top."

"Milk and white chocolate," she added, with a grin.

"Looks to me like Sam and I have the same favorites! I'm sure he won't mind if I…" Mercedes playfully slapped his hand just before he could pluck a white chocolate strawberry from the top and ruin the S in Sam's name.

"Mr. Hummel! Birthday boys are always first, you know that," chided Mercedes.

"But, he's upstairs and it looks so good!" Burt moaned, jutting his lip like a three year old. Mercedes laughed and closed the door behind her.

"I'll tell you what. Why don't I go upstairs and surprise the birthday boy with the first piece. Then I'll leave the rest of it here for _someone _to enjoy while we're gone."

Burt's eyes lit up. "Well what are you waiting for, little lady? Hightail it up there!" Mercedes skipped past him and made her way upstairs, blowing Burt a grateful kiss. "And don't come back down here until he's gotten his piece! I'd like to enjoy my cake uninterrupted!"

**O-O**

Mercedes tripped up the stairs as lightly as possible, grateful that her flats allowed her to step silently. She got closer to his door, and her heart thundered with excitement. How should she surprise him? Should she scare him? Sneak up on him?

Smiling, she decided to enter in singing happy birthday. He'd love that.

She reached for the lighter in the pocket of her mauve sweater and lit the candles. His door was already cracked open a bit, so she wouldn't have to spoil her entrance by jostling the doorknob.

Peeking in, she opened her mouth to sing, but her eyes bulged in surprise at the sight before her and she forgot the words.

Sam was sitting up on his bed, leaning on his headboard with his laptop in his lap, jerking on his cock like his very life depended on it. It stood red and proud and strong in between the folds of his opened zipper, standing like a third leg from the seat of him. His eyes were closed, and he was panting hard, and the groans and moans from the monitor were just as loud and eager as his own. Briefly, her brain told her from memory that he was getting close from the way his fist twisted over his cock head, and Mercedes watched on as he nearly doubled over and erupted, spraying sperm like an steaming geyser in the air, down his fist, and onto the white cotton towel tucked underneath his contracting balls.

His head fell back against the headboard, spent, and he whispered one thing and one thing only in between breaths.

"Mercedes…..yes baby, just like that. Fuck, just like that. I wanted that for so long."

Mercedes carefully tiptoed away and hid in the shadow of the adjoining room, leaning against the door to support herself and process what she'd just seen.

All she could think was _Did he have to do that often? _

It seemed like a near irrelevant question, considering what she'd just witnessed, but it was the only thing that came to mind. For reasons she was still trying to figure out, the sight of Sam pleasuring himself didn't make her feel happy or horny or anything pleasant. Instead, this deeply rooted, strongly gripped feeling of betrayal and hurt broke free from her belly and spread hot and wild in her blood. Did he always have to do that before they hung out? Were her kisses and touches no longer sexy enough for him? Was the fantasy of her more appealing than the reality?

She was jealous of the Mercedes that he envisioned in his mind, the one that got him off without a touch or caress. Just the thought of her satisfied him, and here she was, the real thing, leaving him with nothing but erections and empty promises. She could get him going, but she was no longer capable of sealing the deal, not anymore.

Not when she was scarred.

Strangling the cry in her throat, she quickly tripped down the stairs, blew out his candles, set his cake on the coffee table in the living room, and ran into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed behind her, she let the tears come. She let the whining cry of anguish leave her throat, and curled up against the door.

**O-O**

It wasn't long before she heard him run down the stairs and talk to Burt, yelling and laughing with him for sneaking in a piece of the cake that his girlfriend brought solely for him. Mercedes smiled sadly at his voice, recognizing immediately how much more relaxed he sounded. She stood up and quickly wiped her tears with toilet paper, giving herself a once over in the mirror to inspect her makeup. Everything was still in place with the exception of her eyeliner, but a few quick dabs corrected the streaky mess and her face was perfect.

Her eyes were red, but not puffy. Since she was so used to crying nowadays, she'd developed a habit of bringing eye drops with her to hide the evidence. Two drops in each eye, and in seconds, it looked like she hadn't just had an emotional upheaval in her friends' bathroom.

She looked together. She looked normal. She appeared content, even if her insides wrung and coiled to tell her that she was anything but content. It would do for the evening.

She stepped out of the bathroom as soon as Sam said her name, asking where she was and if she had stood him up.

"On your birthday? I would never be that horrible, even if you deserved it." Her smile rivaled all smiles, bright and shining and glowing for him.

"There she is. There's my Mercy." He gathered her in his arms and kissed her lips, rubbing her nose with his. "Are you ready?"

"Mhmm! Can't wait!" she replied, a bit too eagerly. Burt smiled and continued eating his cake, but Sam immediately noticed something was off.

"Baby, what's wrong? Is everything all right?"

"I'm..um…" her head fell, and she fought the trembling of her chin. "I'm just a little nervous about our date. I put so much into it, and I just want it to be exceptional for you, for your birthday."

"Aw, of course it's gonna be exceptional! You set it up!" he kissed her temple to reassure her. "Everything you do is extraordinary. Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll love it." Sam opened the front door and reached for her hand. "Shall we, m'lady?"

Putting on her best face, she grinned and took his hand, walking out the door beside him.

**O-O**

"So, no clues as to where we're going?"

"Nope!"

"Not even a hint?" Sam asked, tugging at his captain America blindfold.

"Not even a clue." She answered, staring forward at the road as she drove. It's a good thing she had planned the blindfold for tonight. It made the drive easier, knowing that she didn't have to keep up appearances the entire date.

"Something sounds really off about you. Are you sure you're alright?" Sam asked, turning his head toward the sound of her voice, wearing a frown. "I told you, I'll love it."

She looked over to Sam and his reassuring smile and couldn't help smiling back. Wiping away a stray tear, she reached over and laced her fingers with his.

"Don't let go, okay? Just…" She couldn't finish without sniffling, so she left it there.

"I won't, you know that. I promise." He answered, kissing her hand. Sam wished he could see her and read her eyes, but the blindfold was in the way. He couldn't see her unless she let him.

Hopefully, they'd arrive to their destination soon. He was quickly growing tired of being in the dark.

**O-O**

When they arrived, Mercedes walked him out the truck, stood him in a spot, and finally removed his blindfold.

"Surprise?" she said timidly. Sam dropped to his knees. His face lit up like a kid on Christmas.

"Is this what I freaking think it is!? Is this what I FREAKING THINK IT IS?!" Sam yelled, jumping and hopping excitedly around her. "Is this mine?!"

"Yeah. My dad and I built it over the summer. I told him that you always wanted one and I'd thought, well hoped, that when you came back…._if _you came back….I could show it to you." Mercedes explained. "Do you like it?"

Sam looked at her like she'd just asked him if he were human. "Are you insane, woman?! YOU BUILT ME A FUCKING TREEHOUSE!"

But it wasn't just any tree house. Mercedes and Mr. Jones had gone all out, building it on the largest tree with the perfect view of their lake and fashioned with stars, stripes, and vivid red, white, and blue emblems to resemble Captain America's suit of armor. They'd even designed it with mock jets and wings to look like a ship. It was everything he'd wanted as a boy, but his parents could never afford.

"There's a window cut out in the front so you can see across the water, and my dad installed a telescope so you can star gaze if you want. He helped a lot, but I did most of the building. I have the blisters to prove it." She chuckled. "I remember you saying that all the cool geeks had a tree house, and so I figured, why not build you one for your birthday?"

Sam looked back and forth from the tree house to her in awe. "You did this for me?"

She shuffled her feet and shyly nodded. She quietly said, "I love you, Sam. Very much."

He stood in front of her, lifted her fully in his arms, and spun her around as he kissed her, tucking her legs around his middle. "God, I love you too, Mercedes. I've never loved anyone like I love you."

Her face contorted, and Sam grew worried when she hugged him close and started to shake. "Baby? Baby, why are you crying?" She wrapped her arms and legs more tightly around him, audibly sobbing. "Baby, you're scaring me. Mercedes, talk to me! What's wrong?"

He set her to her feet, but she still kept her arms around his neck. "Mercedes, you know you can tell me anything, right? Remember, we promised we were gonna be honest with each other." She bunched his shirt in her fists, crying harder. "Mercedes, please talk to me! What is it? What happened?"

He stepped back and grabbed her arms, forcing her to look at him. She turned her head away. "Baby, look at me." She shook her head. "Look."

Reluctantly, her teary eyes fluttered and drifted up, meeting his own. "Now, why are you crying? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?"

Mercedes didn't know how to answer, so she said nothing.

"When I picked you up and kissed you, was it too much? Did it trigger something?" She shook her head. "Did I say something?" she shook her head again. "Then, what is it? You've got to tell me or I can't do anything about it."

She opened her mouth to speak, but as soon as he bit his lip and smiled, she remembered the moment on his bed when he'd done the same, seconds before he came in his fist, with her name on his lips and a video vixen moaning and performing in the background.

"I can't….I'm sorry, Sam. I know what we said, but I can't. I'm sorry." She broke away from him and ran off, away from their lake and the memories of tender nights it held, away from her anguished boyfriend calling her name, and away from the night that should have been filled with soft caresses and whispered declarations of love in his Captain America tree house.

**O-O**

She had gotten forty text messages and fifteen calls from last night to this afternoon, and Mercedes had effectively avoided all of them. He tried blocked numbers and calling from his Skype, even made an attempt or two from Puck's cell, but she'd caught on and promptly pressed ignore on her phone. Now that she'd had some sleep and thought it over, last night's drama was downright embarrassing. The feelings weren't gone, but she wished that she would have handled it differently. If she were calmer, she would have talked about her feelings and tell him that she caught him pleasuring himself in the privacy of his bedroom, no matter how mortifying the confession would have been.

And now that she wasn't in the moment, she realized that her reaction had less to do with what she'd caught him doing and more to do with how she interpreted it. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him get himself off before. In fact, that was how their first sexual moment happened. She'd burst through the door and caught him with one of her photos, just as he was about to finish. Fumbling embarrassment turned into curiosity, and curiosity turned into desire until he'd boldly continued in front of her and she sat across from him and watched, doing a bit of self-pleasing on her part.

God, she wished things could be that elementary again. She wished they could just have sexual feelings and act on them without all this mess in the way. Making love wasn't supposed to be this complicated.

She texted Santana and Brittany during last period, asking them to ask for a bathroom break so they could meet her in the hall. Class would be over in ten minutes anyway, and they were seniors. Four years should at least give them the privilege to miss the last ten minutes of class. Besides, she needed some air. Economics felt a bit stifling today.

"Girl, I'm so glad you texted me when you did. Finchel refused to turn on the A/C in class and I was sweating like a pig in there!" Santana declared, spraying herself with a mist of cool water from her spray bottle. "What's up?"

"Just needed some air, that's all." Mercedes answered, kicking her feet. "I felt a little restless in there."

"Uh oh, man trouble." Santana deduced, spraying Mercedes on the neck. "What happened? What goes on in the love pond with you and Trouty Mouth?"

"Did you guys have a fight?" asked Brittany. "Because if you did, you should send him flowers and a card that says 'I love you more than rainbows.' That always works when Santana and I have a fight."

Mercedes smiled at her innocence. "It's not that kind of fight, Brittany. I don't think flowers and a card are going to cut it."

"Well, maybe you should just go down on him. No one can stay mad when someone's sucking on their dick or clit. It's scientific fact." Santana shrugged, spraying a mist in the air and walking through it. "Seriously, test it. Have an argument, then just drop to your knees and go at it. I bet you'll forget what you were arguing about."

"Not everything can be cured with sex, Tana." Mercedes sassed.

"Not everything, but most things. 99.5% of things. The rest of the stuff is trivial anyway." She nudged her elbow, pointing in front of them. "Speaking of the fat-lipped devil…"

Mercedes looked up and saw Sam walking down the hall toward them, wandering aimlessly like she was. He looked up a moment after she did, and stormed in her direction, looking pissed as hell.

"I'm out of here," Mercedes whispered, turning to run in the opposite direction.

"Oh, no you don't!" Santana and Brittany's hands stopped her. "I'm tired of this soap opera bullshit. You're talking."

They physically turned her around, and she was face to face with Sam.

"Santana. Brittany." He said in greeting, never leaving Mercedes's terrified gaze.

"Trouty." Santana said back. She grabbed her girlfriend's hand, ushering her away. "C'mon, Brit. Let's go make out in the bathroom until the bell rings." They walked briskly down the hall, leaving Sam and Mercedes in a staring match in the middle of the floor.

"Sam, I-"

He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her with all the passion he could muster, pressing her against the lockers and lifting her off her feet. When he was done with her, she was breathless.

"Let me make something deathly clear, Mercedes Jones." He growled. "I love you. I adore you. I worship the rain that waters the grass that grows on the ground you walk on. There is nothing and no one on the planet as right for me as you are and there isn't a thing in heaven or down below that I wouldn't do for you. But I will be damned if I stand back and do nothing when you walk away from me again, without a word or a call or anything."

"Sam, I-"

"I'm not _done_." He snarled through his teeth. "I've been patient with you. Hell, I've been more than patient. I've respected the fact that it would take time for you to heal, that it might mean that there would be times where you wouldn't speak or have difficulty expressing how you feel. I get it. I understand. But, I'm done being patient and I'm done being nice." He grabbed her hand, raising it in between them and pointing to her finger. "You are my _wife._ I plan to make you my forever, the sole keeper of my name and the mother of my children, and I refuse to let this ridiculousness continue. Now, you are going to meet me in the choir room, we _are _going to sit down, and we _are_ going to talk about whatever the hell it is that is making you avoid me. You've made me wait eighteen hours, thirty-three minutes and fifty two seconds to hold you and kiss you and have you beside me. I've waited an entire summer and months of a new school year with a new boyfriend in the way before that. I'm _done_ waiting. I am not living without you and I am not going to go on another minute, let alone another second, with this bullshit silent treatment." He held her face and possessively wrapped his tongue in hers, making her moan and shiver in his grasp. "Choir room. _Now._" He smacked the lockers behind her, making her jump, and stalked off, silently expecting her to follow. Taking a moment to collect herself, she straightened her clothes and tripped behind him, passing an equally stunned Santana and Brittany listening in the halls.

"I'm uh…..I'm going to be in the choir room, guys," she said in a daze, slightly heaving as she licked her lips and grabbed Santana's water bottle to mist her heated chest and neck. "See you later."

Santana and Brittany followed her with their eyes, mouths agape.

"Well, damn." Santana parted her legs and sprayed each of inner thighs. "Trouty just became a man."

**O-O**

She hesitantly opened the choir room door, unsure of what she would find. "Sam?"

"Come." He ordered gently, patting a space beside him on the bench. She eyed the piano in front of him and froze, knowing exactly where this was going. "It's been a while since you've played, and I know it speaks for you when you can't, so come." He patted the seat again. "Sit and play for me."

She hesitantly walked over and sat beside him, resting her hands on her lap. "Put them on the keys, Mercedes. I promise they won't bite." Her hands lifted and gently rested on the piano keys, barely touching them.

"Play." He told her.

"I don't know what to play." She told him quietly, utterly lost. "I don't know what you expect from me."

"I expect you to be honest, baby." Sam said, gently pressing her fingers to fully rest on the keys. "Play what you feel."

She stroked them at first, taking a moment to get herself reacquainted, then slid her fingertips along the scale until a song came of them.

Closing her eyes, finding her center, she opened her mouth and sang from her heart.

**You're who I desire**

**You light my fire**

**With every kiss **

**You take me higher**

On piano, the tune lost its sensual rhythm, but none of its trepidation or longing. Sam had never heard the tune before, but he liked the lyrics so far. Was this what she was running from? Her desire for him?

**Feelin' like your lovin' I just cannot resist**

**There's something that's making me hold on**

**There's no one I'd rather share my good loving with**

**But I promised I'd wait til I'm ready for this**

What did she mean? He knew that they were waiting to make love. But, did she feel as eager and anxious as he did? She must have gone through the same temptations and doubts. Up until now, he hadn't even thought to ask her.

**One day we'll make love**

**Passion unheard of**

**And I'll be your woman**

**If I had my way**

**We would see heaven **

**Loving together **

**We won't stop ever**

**If I had my way**

**I love your touch**

She shivered when Sam's hands slid around her sides, hugging her around her waist. He leaned in and rested against her temple as she played, listening to her every word.

**It makes me crumble**

**I'm in love so much**

She closed her eyes and stopped playing, taking a breath when Sam rubbed against her cheek. His lips felt so warm on her skin.

**Look what you've done**

**Please don't whisper anything else in my ear**

**My body, my heart, and my soul are high**

The lyrics couldn't have been more appropriate. The way he touched her made her weak in every way possible: physically, mentally, and spiritually she melted and melded with him. But anxious thoughts held her back every time they got too close. They had talked about the day when they'd be ready, but she hadn't expected to be ready so soon, when the mental was well on the mend but the physical was far from whole.

**Let me find the strength to get on up outta here**

**One day the way we feel will be alright**

**One day we'll make love**

**Passion unheard of**

**I'll be your woman**

**If I had my way**

**We would see heaven**

**Loving together**

**We won't stop ever**

**If I had my way**

Her voice hitched on the last line, on the beginnings of a sob. She wanted him so badly, so much, and so often, but she couldn't allow herself to let go. She wasn't the same Mercedes he'd fallen in love with.

**I love you**

**No doubt about it**

**I won't change my mind—**

She broke down over the piano, falling forward, but Sam scooped her up and turned her to him, guiding her to his shoulder instead.

"Thank you for talking to me." He whispered. "It's alright. I promise it's alright."

"I know." she cried. "I know it is. That's what makes it so hard! I know it's alright with you."

He frowned as she pulled back to face him. "I don't understand. Then what's the problem? Are you scared that what happened before will happen again? Because, we can go as slow as you need to, baby, I swear—"

"It's not that." She interrupted, sniffling. "It's nothing like that. I trust that you won't hurt me and I know it won't be like before. I'm not scared of getting physical with you because I think it will end badly."

"Then what is it?" he asked, wiping her tears away. "Mercy, why are you afraid?"

She stared into his eyes for a long time, gathering the courage, before she confessed. "I have scars, Sam."

"Baby, the attack rattled me, too. We both have scars. We can deal with it together-"

"I don't mean emotional scars, Sam. I mean…" She lifted her bangs to show him the remnants of the bruise on her forehead. It had turned dark and had shrunken slightly, but it was still very obvious. "I'm scarred. I have them all over my body. The swelling and purple cast went away, but they left marks. No matter what I put on them, they won't go away. And every time I look in the mirror, I see them and remember." Her eyes watered again as she looked at him."And the last thing I want is for you to look at me and remember."

"Baby, do you really think scars are gonna make me less attracted to you?" She lowered her eyes, letting the tears fall silently. "Mercedes, I love _you_, not just your body or parts of you. I love you for you. What would ever make you think that I would be less attracted to you?" Her eyes drifted away from him. "Mercedes?"

"I saw you," she said quietly. "I saw you before we went to the tree house yesterday…in your room."

"In my room? What does that have to do with-?" His eyes grew three sizes when he realized where she was going. "Shit. In my _room._" He groaned in his hands as she nodded. "Everything?"

"Just the end," she admitted. "I mean, I didn't think it would bother me. I figured you'd done that before. But, it hurt me more than I thought it would when I realized that you were getting excited over other things but me, especially since I was so conscious about this." She pointed to her forehead. "And these." She lifted her arms to show him her scratched elbows. "I freaked out if you even touched them, let alone saw them. The day on the beach…. the bathing suit and coverall hid most of them when we got intimate. I didn't have to take all my clothes off. But, what you wanted was everything, and I wanted it just as badly, but." She shrugged sadly, wiping her nose. "I can't. Not right now. I'm not the same."

Sam didn't say anything. He just stared at the exposed bruise on her forehead for a long moment, thinking, before he stood up and walked toward the door.

"W-where are you going?" Mercedes asked in a sniffle. He walked over to each of the choir doors, locked them, and closed the blinds. "Sam?"

"Do you trust me, Mercedes?" he asked, walking over and kneeling in front of her. "I mean really trust me?"

She slowly nodded, eyes brimming with question. "Why?"

"Show them to me." He asked her, lifting her scarred arms. "All of them? Please?"

"Right now? Sam, I don't think—"

"I won't force you, Mercedes. But, if we ever want to get physical, we have to get through this. And I want you to know how much I want you, how you were and how you are now. Can I do that? Will you let me?"

She hesitated, glancing back and forth between the two doors to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted. She was convinced that they were secure. "Okay." She said with a cautious smile. "Just don't freak out, okay?"

He saluted her with a calm smile. "Scout's honor." She revealed the first one near her neck, a small slit across the curve between her collarbone. "Where did that one come from?"

"It was when Donovan held the knife to my throat. He cut the skin a little bit. That one is almost gone." She explained, touching the small raised scar. "It doesn't show unless I point it out."

Sam leaned in and kissed the marred flesh, rubbing his lips against it. "You're beautiful." He looked up at her. "Show me another one."

She lifted the legs of her pants, showing slightly larger slits along her calves. Those were a bit longer and darker than the ones on her neck. "What happened here?"

"It was when he pushed me down over the truck. There was a metal bar near the exhaust, and it was hot because the truck was on." She whimpered when Sam crouched down and pressed eager kisses along the length of each scar, whispering declarations of love in between his affections.

"You're still beautiful to me….I love you so much…..you're have the prettiest legs I've ever seen…..scars are hot…"

The last one made her giggle. "Really, Sam?"

He glanced up innocently. "On you, they are," he said, giving his trademark lopsided grin. "Are there any more?"

She frowned and slowly lifted her shirt, exposing her stomach. "This was the one from the truck edge, when he threw me inside the back. It's the one that I really didn't want you to see. It's embarrassing."

He understood why she felt that way. This scar was larger and raised, paler in the center with small ridges throughout. It looked like a cesarean scar in shape and size, and took up most of the space on her lower stomach.

"You know what I think, when I see this scar?" he asked rhetorically. "I think of how close we came. I think of how, like this scar, you healed from an ordeal that would've broken most. In fact, I think this is your prettiest mark of all."

"Really?" she self-consciously asked. "Why?"

"It reminds me that you fought, that you have a fire in your spirit that can never be extinguished. Your passion and tenacity are two of the things I find sexiest about you," he said, running his lips over the healing flesh of her belly. "And your softness. I love how plush and curvy and womanly you feel, the way your thighs give when I push into you and your stomach jumps when I touch you." He ran his nails lightly across her flesh, demonstrating the bounce her tummy did from his touch. "Just like that. I think that's the most erotic thing in the world."

"Even if it's not smooth like before?" she asked.

"Especially because it's not smooth like before." He answered sincerely. "You're not perfect, and that's perfectly okay. Your flaws are what I love most about you. If you were perfect, we could never be together."

She frowned, not understanding."Why?"

"Because I'm flawed, too." Sam said, lifting his shirt and pointing to a scraggly moon shaped scar on the side of his abdomen. "Appendix removed when I was twelve. It's the roughest, crudest cut I have on me. And this one." He showed her an infinity shaped welt near his underarm. "Messing around with a cattle iron. My cousin Jimmy wanted to make me his pretend prized bull and I was _stupidly _convinced to brand myself to make it more realistic. He got a wallop on his behind for that one." He smiled. "Oh, and this one?" He had a small dented groove near his hairline, under his bangs. "Bowling ball straight to the head when I was four. I was messing with my dad's ball collection in the closet of our old house. Mom told him to lock them away and he lied and told him that he did. Dad told me that he didn't hear the end of it for months afterward."

"I've felt them before," she admitted, running her fingers over the spot. "But I never knew the story behind them." Feeling bolder, she unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down to her knees, exposing light scratch marks on her thighs. "He clawed my skin when he was trying to pry my legs apart. It bled a bit, but I didn't feel them until later."

Sam pulled down his pants as well, dropping them fully to the floor. "Pretending I was a cowboy on the side of my mama's couch," he explained, resting his foot on the empty side of the piano bench and pointing to a three inch line running up the inside of his thigh. "It had a pointy metal part sticking out that I didn't see, and Mama would warn me over and over to stop playing on the arm of the couch before I broke it. Well, not only did I break it, but I got a three inch souvenir to remind me of my stupidity for the rest of my life. Mom still tells that story to all of our guests, and I have the shameful task of showing one or two non-believers the scar as proof. It's why I stopped wearing shorts to family reunions. Less access."

Mercedes smiled at his explanation, and without thought, bent in to kiss his scar. They both felt the moment the tone of their exchange changed.

"I like your scars, too," she whispered, breathing over his crotch. "They're not the same as mine, but they're flawed and they're yours."

"And you love them." he finished. 

"And I love them." she said back, smiling. "I get it."

"Good." He sunk back to his knees, settling his torso between her thighs. She removed her shirt and slid off the rest of her pants, sitting before him in nothing but her bra and underwear. All of her scars were on display for him to see. Since he only had on boxers, even more of his marred skin showed.

"Mercedes, I also want you to know that the moment you caught me in, that _fluke_, never happened before that day." He rested his head on her belly with a heavy sigh, avoiding her eyes. "I did it because I was so turned on by you, everything you did and said that I couldn't hold back any longer. I wanted you in every way every time I saw you, and it got to the point where my desire became distracting." He looked up at her. "I know you wanted to wait, and I respected that, so I tried taking care of things another way. I'm sorry you thought it meant that I wasn't attracted to you. In reality, that couldn't have been farther from the truth."

She nodded, running her fingers through her hair. "Thank you for telling me. I really needed to hear that."

"I know. I needed to tell you," he replied, kissing just below her breasts. When her fists tightened in his hair at the contact, Sam moved lower and kissed her again, hoping to get the same reaction. She clutched his strands more tightly than before and rewarded him with a lusty moan. A heat coursed through him at the sound, and he followed his instinct to go lower and lower until he kissed the V of her thighs and held her knees apart to leave a lingering kiss on the seat of her underwear.

"Mercedes?" He would only stop if she said anything but yes.

She emphatically nodded. "Yes, Sam. Whatever you're doing, don't stop."

He pulled the delicate fabric aside and kissed her bare sex, running his tongue up and down her folds and savoring the taste of her. Mercedes pressed him deeper into her pussy, until his tongue was buried and he could do nothing else but hum and wiggle his lips around her clit.

"Oh god, Sam! Yes! That's so good!" she praised, bucking against his mouth. She pushed his head away to slide her underwear off, then quickly pushed him back between her thighs to return to position. Soon, she was dripping and teetering close to the edge, grinding her teeth from the intensity and suddenness of her orgasm.

"Oh….Sam, I'm gonna cum. Please don't move, I'm gonna cum. Your mouth feels so nice and warm, baby." she whined. "Please don't stop."

He shook his head, telling her he wouldn't, and hummed low and long in his throat. His tongue wiggled and probed around inside her, until he felt her walls shrink around him and he knew she had arrived. At her peak, he drew her little bud in his mouth and teased the sensitive tip of her, sucking greedily as she flowed down his chin. Before she could finish, she pulled him up to his feet, eased down his boxers, and took his hardened member in her small, soft hands. 

"Baby?" He had to shield his fall on the piano when she drew him in her mouth and sucked hard, working the tip of him in between her lips. "D-don't think that-Fuck! Yes!-Don't think that you h-have anything—Shit!-anything to prove to me, Mercedes."

His penis popped out of her mouth, flopping on her chin. "I don't. But I missed you and I need you and I'm not afraid anymore." She licked the underside of him slowly as she cradled his balls. "I missed this fat cock in me. I've missed the little sounds you make when I touch you. I've missed the way you grabbed my hair and called me yours and twerked your hips." She made herself breathless with the memories. "Baby, just let me feel you."

He hurriedly sat down on the piano bench and drew her down on his lap. He watched her hand reach between them, hold his cock in her hands, and his heart thundered at the first tender touch of flesh to flesh. He wasn't inside her, but after months of near nothing, her wet sex rub touching his own was enough to get him over the edge.

"Oh sweet Jesus, Mercy," he moaned, rolling his hips to rub against her folds. "That pussy feels so good. Rub it on your clit for me?" she happily obliged him, tickling the head of him with her sensitive nub. They both cried out. "Ohhhhhh fuck yes….."

"Sammy! Sammy!" She wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt her second orgasm coming, holding on tight and galloping on his lap. "Thrust up! Thrust up!"

He did, and that small repetitive force joined fantasy and reality enough to welcome a shattering climax, sucking all the energy from them in violent tremors and leaving them in a tangled heap of boneless limbs and aimless, shifting loins.

"Yes….God yes." Mercedes panted softly, smiling at her love when she floated back down from her high.

"Hi, Sam." She whispered warmly.

"Hello." He whispered back, pushing back her bangs and lovingly running his thumb over her bruise. "Nice to see you again. I've missed you."

Her grin grew. "Likewise."

Sam reached for her decorated hand, kissing the small string around her finger. "You know, you may not believe me when I say this, but I think I love you more now than I did the first time I saw you. Is that impossible?"

"Not at all." She whispered, curling her fingers around his cheek. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

**O-O**

"Psst….Psst, Don!"

Donovan rolled his eyes, slamming his locker closed and walked away. The voices followed behind him.

"Psst, Donnie! Yo!" They whispered.

"Why the hell are you whispering to me and you're only ten inches away?" Donovan turned angrily and asked. "God, sometimes you guys are such idiots."

"Dude, there's like a whole crew after us now!" Larry harshly whispered. "After those girls stepped forward, there's like eyes and ears all around us now, waiting for us to say something."

"Yeah. They know that we hang with you. They're starting to put two and two together and suspect us of doing things with those girls, too!" Eddie exclaimed, using the same hushed tone. "Why won't you tell them that we're innocent?"

"Because you aren't." Donovan explained simply, stopping to get a quick drink at the water fountain and leaning against the wall when he was finished. "You're in the same hot water as I am. If I'm guilty, you're just as guilty, too."

"But that's not what we agreed on!"

"You wanna talk about agreements right now, Larry?! Because I seem to remember a very important day when you neglected to honor yours!" Larry shrunk away. "Exactly. You still owe me."

"Don, this is bigger shit we're talking about! Our reputations are at stake!" Donovan swiveled Eddie's body like he weighed nothing and slammed him against the wall.

"Reputations, Eddie? Fucking reputations, that's what you're worried about?!" he spat. When he realized they were attracting attention, Donovan let him go and brushed Eddie's shoulders off. "We are supposed to be street brothers."

"We are street brothers, Don! Brothers for life! From the sidewalk to six feet under!" Eddie said with an ardent nod.

"Then don't get scared and punk out when things look tough. Don't you dare leave me to finish this alone again. We didn't see this coming, but I consider this mission two, and if you back out now….."

"We won't," Eddie swore.

"On our blood," Larry chimed in.

"Good," Donovan pulled Eddie up and kept on walking forward, with the guys trailing behind him in silence. A shifty-eyed Larry was the first to break the silence.

"McMann said Derrick's name."

Donovan stopped cold, squaring his shoulders at the mention of the name.

"Over the microphone and everything. No one else knew, but we knew. We knew what it meant." Both guys stepped in front of him. "What if he slips up again? What if they start dredging up the past?"

Donovan squinted at them. "I have more to fear if he brings up the past than you guys do. You didn't even do anything."

"Yeah, but we're connected to it. Sooner or later, the press is gonna start snooping, and realize who we are. Once they put two and two together, then…"

"What, Larry? Then what? We go to jail for murder," Donovan said coldly. His gaze turned peculiar, softened for a moment, as he remembered. "Derrick shouldn't have even been there. He was the weakest of us. He shouldn't have been anywhere near that fire. He would've lived if he'd kept watch like he was supposed to." He pointed his finger in both of their faces. "You owe him your lives. He was a brother. You let both of us down."

Larry and Eddie bowed their heads for their lost friend. "He was the best of us, man." Eddie thought aloud. "He had heart."

Larry tapped Eddie's back to get his attention. "If it's jail, then it's jail, right?"

The shorter boy nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. For Derrick."

Donovan scoffed, barreling between them with an angry scowl. "Thanks for caring, idiots."

**O-O**

Mercedes went over to Erin's house Friday afternoon, after they'd come from a very interesting session in the circle. Mercedes had brought up her sexual reconnection with Sam, without getting too graphic-she couldn't help it. It had been so long and it was so _good. _She felt like sharing all the wonders of her boyfriend with the world-and the entire meeting turned into a very candid discussion about sex after trauma. Other girls felt open to share their best sexual experiences, and by the end of the meeting, everyone was red-faced and giggling, fanning themselves with their hands. It was a rejuvenating session.

Now, Erin had the task of cleaning out her parents' attic and she'd asked Mercedes if she could help her sort through the memorabilia and put them in their proper place. They'd found a box of personalized Christmas ornaments, dating from the year Erin was adopted, and tons and tons of photo albums. Most of the pictures were older than both of them, dating back to her Mama and Pop-Pop's adolescent years, but a few held more recent pictures that Erin was a part of.

"Aww, look at you in your reindeer outfit!" Mercedes cooed, pointing the image out to Erin. She cringed and pushed it away, laughing.

"It's not cute when you're thirteen! When you that old, it's just creepy." Erin said. "Pop-Pop dresses as Santa Claus every year down by the Salvation Army. When he was sick last Christmas, Mama had to play Mrs. Claus with Joseph, the janitor that works there. He had the beard and the belly, but the chemistry wasn't the same. He never smiles, _ever._"

Mercedes frowned. "Grumpy Santa." Her eyes spotted another picture, this time of an older Erin, decorating the Christmas tree. "Was this last year?"

Erin looked away from her box and smiled, taking the picture. "Yeah. See, Pop is wearing his oxygen." Mercedes saw the cannula in his nose and the long, green oxygen tank fastened to the back of his wheelchair. "Dialysis and the surgery really got to him, but he still mustered the energy to come out of bed Christmas Eve and read '_Twas the night before Christmas _to me before the clock struck twelve. I love that story. It makes me think of magic and endless possibilities."

Mercedes's eyes warmed as she watched her face light up. She loved her optimism.

"Whoa, Mercedes! Look at this one!" Erin pulled up a small, blue scrapbook and blew the dust off the top, revealing her crudely written name scrawled in crayon. "I've had this since I was on the streets! I stole it from a book shop that was closing down so that I could document my life and remember." Erin reverently flipped through the pages, tearing up at the writings and small drawings she'd done as a youth. Mercedes leaned in, resting her chin on her shoulder and hugging her close. "I thought I lost it."

Mercedes jumped when Erin gasped and suddenly started to whip through the pages. "I wonder if it kept! I wonder if it's still here!"

"What?" Mercedes asked excitedly. Erin reached the last page, her eyes widened, and she slammed the book against her chest, turning away. "What, Erin?"

"I can't believe I found it….after all this time, it was right up here….this whole time." Mercedes reached for her when she started to sob.

"Erin, what did you find?" Erin looked back at Mercedes and smiled, careful to keep the page hidden on her bosom.

"I found my brother." She smiled. "It's the only picture I could find from the fire. I'd been hunting for it ever since I moved in. I thought it had gotten lost in the shuffle or accidentally sold in one of our garage sales. I hurt for months, thinking I had lost it forever." Her pale hands pulled back the tattered cover of the book, laying the image flat on her lap.

"Do you want to see what he looks like? Donnie?" Erin asked quietly, hopefully, eager to share her excitement with another.

The entire time, Mercedes had been silent, struggling to keep herself together after Erin had said she'd found her brother. She felt rushes of hot and cold course through her body in rapid succession, one right after the other. Her forehead grew warm and damp, and clammy as her hands, but all her body wanted to do was shiver.

This was it. This was the puzzle piece that would form the picture, the missing edge she'd been looking for. This was a culmination of all her research and the potential clue to Donovan's past. She would know now, not assume or guess or speculate, but _know._ Was she ready?"

"S-sure, Erin." Mercedes said, as calmly as her nerves would allow. With shaky hands, she took the book, and on a silent count to three, she laid the image flat in her lap and gave it a hard look.

There were four boys, no more than nine or ten, huddled together and dressed up as what appeared to be lions. They had curved black whiskers painted on their faces and a ring of feathers around their cherub faces to resemble manes. Their clothes were not in costume, but judging by the appearance of their tattered jeans and worn sneakers, they probably didn't have much to buy the real thing. But if anyone had any doubts as to what they were, their growling faces and curled fingers would be enough to prove their ferocity.

"That's him right there, at the very end." Erin pointed out the most ferocious little lion of them all, a black haired little boy squinting and snarling as hard as he could for the camera. "And these were his friends that he used to hang out with. I forget their names, but they were with him all the time."

A stunned and breathless Mercedes held on to her pointing hand for dear life, shaking in her grasp.

"Mercedes, are you alright?" Erin frowned.

"Shhh, Erin." Mercedes squinted and looked at the boy hard, assessing every detail of him to make a sound judgment.

That _couldn't _be him. Though he was a boy, and puberty changed a lot of things, the adorable little one looking mischievously back at her couldn't possibly be the same young man that had cornered her in the lot and forced himself on her. They were two completely different entities with completely different auras about them.

But the facts didn't lie. Though his chin was softer and pudgy, Mercedes could see the indicators of the sharp jaw that Donovan had now. And though the eyes in the picture were calmer and less menacing, they still held the same glint she recognized from memory, harboring secrets only he knew and kept hidden. The boy's hair was in a bowl cut, but they framed his brows in the same way Donovan's spiky bangs framed his. Their noses were shaped exactly the same, straight and pointed with a sharp bridge and soft curve along the tip, and the build of their bodies were near identical, give or take a bit of baby fat in places.

But if there were still any doubt, any lingering question in her mind that this little boy was who she thought he was, the smile alone would have given her the resounding yes she needed. It was the exact same smirk he'd given her in the lot, the same one he wore when he kissed her hand and growled in her ear. It was the same one she'd seen after the meeting in Figgins' office, used to frighten her with its easy charm. And was the smirk she'd seen in the press conference on Monday, focused directly into the camera and targeted to her.

His smirk had incriminated him. Donovan McMann and Donnie O'Riley were one and the same.

"That's your brother." Mercedes said finally, blinking away the beginnings of her disbelieving tears. "That's Donovan. That's really him, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is." Erin nodded, frowning in confusion. "Did you see him somewhere or something? Does he look like someone you know? Because a lot of people used to say that he has a common face."

"No." Mercedes said in a far off voice. "That face is anything but common." She traced the shape of his face with her finger, tapping each of his rounded cheeks. He was adorable. It pained her.

Erin slapped her forehead. "Oh, now I remember! That's Larry and that's Eddie. They used to come over our house all the time."

Mercedes chuckled humorlessly to herself. "Of course they are." Young Larry was still lanky and tall, and young Eddie was still shorter than the rest. Their faces looked exactly the same. Mercedes frowned at the small biracial looking boy with curly blond hair at the end. She looked so familiar, but she couldn't place him.

"Who is this, Rin?" she asked, pointing him out.

"Oh, that was their fourth pal, Derrick. I remember him because he used to always bring me candy. He was the only one that was nice to me and would play with me when my brother's friends came around. The other three thought I was too young to play. I even had a little crush on him once upon a time." Erin giggled. "I wonder what happened to them?"

Mercedes eyes widened on her second look, and suddenly she knew. She certainly had seen him before, perhaps as often as she'd seen Donovan. She'd seen a version of his face walking alongside Donovan, greeting folks at press conferences and making speeches on his behalf.

Though he was darker, and his lips were fuller, Mercedes was almost certain that she was staring at Judge McMann's biological son.

**O-O**

**What?! _What?!_ **

**What the hell is going on here?! KurlyQ, what in the world are you doing?**

**Lol. All in good time, dear ones. But, this chapter should be enough for you to gather some theories about how this mess all happened. Remember, Judge McMann and his wife were childless, and the little boy appears to be biracial. Also, what happened to him is hinted at in this chapter and a previous one. **

**Why is it important? What will Mercedes do now that she knows? Will Erin finally find out? Will Donovan find out about her _first? _ Gasp! **

**And what of Nationals? Will they even go this year? **

**Review and talk to me, people! I love your words! **

***Song used in this chapter is credited to the brilliant Chrisette Michele, entitled "If I had my way." **


	24. Chapter 23 Hope (1 of 2)

_**A/N: Time for nationals! **_

_**For those that hate songs in fics, I apologize in advance. However, because it is their competition performance and I wanted to make the reading experience as true to life as possible, I've created an entire competition number for them, songs included. Even took the initiative to create my own mash up! Hopefully, you can imagine it all with me so we can enjoy it together.**_

_**Also, I want to welcome new readers and thank all the old ones that stuck around. Love you all!**_

_**Special thanks to Jill, the sticky caramel in the Twix bar of my fan fiction. Because, we all know it's the caramel that keeps all that ish together…just saying. Love you dear!**_

_**And just so we're all clear, this story continues from the Friday evening and carries over into the weekend. Technically, Sam's birthday is at the start of this chapter. Wednesday, the infamous tree house incident, was just an early celebration gone horribly awry. Also, the moment in the choir room wasn't actual penetrative sex, just rubbing and wet friction. (oooh, dirty….) Their sexual moment will have an entire chapter dedicated to it. Just wanted to make that all clear.**_

_**Second A/N: And because formatting on FF net is being utterly ridiculous, my style of formatting for the nationals scene is completely shot to hell. For the mash up, if the lines are paired together for the boys/girls, assume the lines are being sung simultaneously, one atop the other. **_

_**Also, for the second song, if there are no characters assigned to a song lyric, assume that everyone is singing those lines. It looked too cumbersome to write ALL beside each line. **_

_**It definitely helps to listen to each song, so youtube as you read and have at it!**_

_**Fighter-Christina Aguilera**_

_**Headstrong-Trapt**_

_**Will you be there?-Michael Jackson**_

**O-O**

Before he'd met Donovan, Judge Martin McMann was a broken soul. His precious wife Evelyn had finally succumbed to her battle with leukemia less than a month earlier. The doctors said it was the infection in her kidneys that ultimately led to overall system failure, but he knew it was far more than her disease. They'd received their fifth notice of rejection from yet another adoption agency two months before that. They both knew good and well that her chronic illness was a contributing factor. Though he was a working lawyer and they were relatively well off, the agencies favored two parent stable homes, and the piles of hospital bills from chemo and dialysis treatments looming behind them suggested everything but stability. Besides, the agencies knew from looking at her that he would most likely be a single dad by the time they'd give them a child. Her illness was, in no sense of irony, the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

Evelyn wanted children so badly. She had always wanted them and pushed to start trying immediately after they'd gotten married. Unfortunately, her cancer was discovered four months into their marriage and the radiation and chemo regimen affected her ovaries, putting her into early menopause. He'd offered surrogacy, but each time he did she would burst into tears, telling him that the very suggestion made her feel less like a woman. After the second offer, he wisely never brought it up again. Adoption was their only hope of a child together, and they'd been denied. Her body was slowing down and they were out of options.

Then, she found out about the affair.

He'd covered his tracks as best as he could, but somehow, she found out. Part of him suspected that she had always known, from the way strained way she'd ask him about his personal life to the way she would hold his hand a minute longer than necessary, trying to keep hold of whatever they still had from her lonely hospital bed. Finally, when her kidneys failed and her body didn't respond to chemo anymore, she'd brought up Debra Miller by name.

Debra was and always will be the woman that held his heart, even when he'd met and courted his wife. He'd met her on his way from school in sixth grade and the attraction was instant the moment they'd locked eyes over the wire gate of her home. He was walking by with some of his buddies and spotted the brown beauty skipping rope in her honeysuckle dress and shiny pigtails. She was fuller and rounder than any of the girls he'd seen in class, and he had to catch himself before he drooled over the bounce of her small chest and backside as she skipped. He didn't even have an interest in girls until her.

Sure, he'd heard of men in love being struck dumb by love in movies and on TV, but it had been fictional poppycock until the moment she stopped and smiled at him.

He smiled back, and almost asked for her name, until his best friend boldly yanked him back down to reality with two ugly words.

_Nigger lover._

God forbid his parents ever find out that he'd given a black girl a second glance. Or worse, what if the town heard? He was young, but he knew what he wanted. His dream had always been to be district judge, like his daddy always wanted him to be. Gossip traveled quickly in this small town—negative faster than positive—and it would ruin his chances in a prejudiced town like Lima if he ever pursued anything with her.

Instead of asking her name, he spat in her face and walked away to cover his good name.

Still, curiosity wouldn't let him leave her alone. He'd discreetly asked around town for months until he'd finally found out her name. Since then, she'd never left his mind.

And, while years had passed and aged them, he had never left hers. They met again in the eighties, when times were a bit more understanding of their interaction, in a small coffee shop in town. She was working part time as a waitress at the shop. She recognized his face as a ghost from her past, and refused to offer any service to him. She gave his business to her friend instead, sacrificing the potential of a large tip to protect her sensitive pride. He loved her fire.

Young Martin McMann was a relentless man when he saw that something he desired was just beyond his reach (it's a trait that made him perfect for the court and gave him the edge to become the household name he was today). Every day, he'd show up at the coffee shop and write her notes on napkins, sending it away with his tips on an empty tray. The first couple of notes were elaborate apologies, and it took a while for her to read them before she threw it away. She didn't even give him a second glance in his direction until he started begging and groveling in all caps. She hadn't called the cops for stalking, so he took that as a good sign.

When nearly a year had passed and she realized that he wouldn't give up, she relented and sat to talk with him. One conversation led to another, once a week, then daily until he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out.

And they were blissfully happy as a couple…until her parents met him.

He'd never been on the receiving end of hate before, not to that extent, anyway. It was dehumanizing. Debra assured him that they were usually warm and welcome to everyone and that their anger wasn't personal, but it didn't alleviate the sting. He'd made those same excuses for his parents before, when his schools were desegregated and he played with children of other backgrounds. He knew they were only words to make him feel better. Truthfully, they would probably never see him as a man worthy of their daughter's love. He would always be another white oppressive face with ill motives. What could he do to change that? Once upon a time, that was exactly who he was.

Being young and impressionable, they let familial and societal pressures destroy their relationship. He let her go again, assuring her that they would always remain close friends.

And he kept his promise to her. They could never stay away from each other for too long. She'd been there to help him pick the perfect place to take Evelyn out on their first date. He'd been there when she met Bill, a smart, sensible African American accountant she'd grown absolutely smitten with. She'd stuck by him through his pre-wedding jitters and talked him through the hard times when Evelyn was first diagnosed. He was her first call when she and Bill got divorced, and he'd offered to give her whatever she needed to help with her little girl, Evangeline.

Then, in December 1994, Evelyn was put on a ventilator after a severe bout of respiratory distress and the doctors told him to pray that she would make it through the night.

He drove around for miles, thinking and crying, until his heart led him to where he needed to be—at Debra's door. It still had the wire gate he remembered, buried in slick ice and snowflakes.

She cradled him and comforted him with soothing words and a warm breast to rest on. He let the tears fall into the scoop of her blouse, and she accepted his pain without protest. And when she started singing, he looked up and saw the same sweet smile that greeted him years ago, the one he fell in love with the day he saw her. He wanted just a taste of her happiness, and slowly, he leaned up and indulged, hoping she'd let him. Like a live current, her sunshine coursed through him and lit him from the inside out, clearing the fog and brightening his world in ways kisses with Evelyn never did. She pulled away first, silently questioning him, and he thought for certain that she'd throw him out and shame him for his forwardness. She was newly divorced and his wife was fighting for her life in a hospital bed across town. It wasn't the right time.

Instead, she took his hand and led him to her bedroom, urging him to step lightly so they wouldn't wake her little girl.

The next morning, he slipped away with a soft kiss to her sleeping forehead, hoping that night would remain a sweet memory between them. Nine months later, reality kicked him in the ass.

Derrick was the most beautiful child he had ever seen. He was the best of both of them, soft and utterly perfect. But, his wife's condition had turned for the better, and there was already talk around the office about his candidacy for D.A. He was so close to achieving what he wanted, to the success he'd planned since childhood, when the best thing he never knew he needed enters his world, forcing him to question everything.

How would it look? _Potential D.A. ruins his career for an illicit affair with his black childhood sweetheart, while his wife battles cancer_? _Bastard son born from adultery_? He could already hear the press questions. It would never end.

He could not put Evelyn through that stress, not when she was finally doing so well. More importantly, he would never do that to Debra or his son. She was far more precious than a booty call or side dalliance, and he would be damned if he let the media sully her good name and all that they shared. Derrick and Eva deserved a normal life, sheltered from the scrutiny that his name could bring.

So, he and Debra agreed to keep the child hidden. He would provide all the financial support they would need and help Debra finish her nursing degree, like she always wanted. She would be able to give both of her children the life they deserved and he would be happy, knowing that their boy would be raised in a loving home. It would be best if Derrick never knew him; he was no example he'd ever want him to follow. But, he'd hoped when Derrick turned eighteen, he'd look for him and want to know who he was. He promised himself that he would be close by, ready to answer his questions. It was all for the best.

So, when Evelyn mentioned Debra's name on her deathbed, he knew the perfect lie of a life he'd created was over. He confessed to everything, from the sex to the secret son and the financial support of a family she'd never known about. But, it wasn't until he told her of his love for Debra that he saw the life drain from her cheeks. He watched her wither as he told her of his heart's desire to be with her, and she grew quiet and insisted that he leave.

She died the following day.

He was certain that it wasn't the kidney failure that killed her. She died of a broken heart.

O-O

"Okay Mercedes, you're up!" Mike declared, shaking the small bundles of paper around in the baseball cap he held. "If we tie after this round, we'll have to go into our tie breaker."

Mercedes rubbed her hands together and reached in, rummaging around until a lucky strip found its way between her fingers. Since they were all waiting around in a hot school bus waiting for Artie to arrive, they decided to pass the time with a game they'd invented sophomore year, on their first trip to nationals. _The friendship game_ started as a way for the gang to get closer and get to know each other. Now, they'd become a family, and the little test of knowledge was a nostalgic reminder of how far they'd come and how much they'd changed for the better. Plus, since they would be driving all the way to New York this year because Figgins refused to shell out extra for plane fare (the new security system had really impacted their already meager budget), they needed a comfortable distraction to get through the long drive.

"Okay and the lucky pick is…" she unrolled the small paper and smiled, flicking her eyes up to glance flirtatiously at her opponent. "Sam."

"That's not fair! Couples shouldn't be able to answer questions about each other if we're doing boys vs. girls. She should pick again!" Joe whined. They'd decided to make the game more interesting by adding a battle of the sexes element, and the boys were lagging behind the girls by two points.

"You're just pissed because you're not attached to anybody, midget tentacles," Santana argued. Joe self-consciously reached for his newly cut locks. They had been trimmed to his shoulders to mask the butchering Donovan had done, and the new look was still a sore spot for him. "Now, my girl picked fairly, so she's going. Go ahead, boys. Give us your question."

"Okay," Sam said, staring at his girlfriend the entire time the argument was going on. "I'll pick."

Mercedes smiled as Quinn reached over her shoulder with a red hat, filled with random questions. Sam opened his chosen question and read, winking at his girlfriend. "What is his favorite kind of sandwich? Describe in detail."

They both quickly turned to their teammates and discussed, writing their answers on index cards.

"Okay, all three of us dated Sam. With our combined knowledge, we should be able to get this down," Quinn said quietly, addressing Santana and Mercedes. The rest of the girls nodded in agreement, giving them control. "Now, I remember over the summer that he couldn't get enough of my salami sandwiches. They're a Fabray family favorite."

Mercedes pursed her lips and shook her head. "No, Sam hates salami. It gives him gas. Plus, he thinks it looks weird."

Quinn frowned, confused. "You sure?"

"Positive. He only ate them to be polite. I bet he only ate those sandwiches when he was around your family, right? Around the dinner table or during a picnic or something. The southern gentleman in him won't refuse a plate offered to him. He's polite that way." Mercedes answered confidently. "Santana?"

"Don't look at me. All I wanted him from him was a warm body and a hard dick. You think I paid attention to what cheese he liked?" Santana said, shrugging. "I'm really no help. If this was a Brittany question, I'd be all over it, but….Trouty's not my area of expertise." Brittany smiled and held her girlfriend's hand, sharing a loving look with her. Both looked away shyly, blushing.

"You are such a lesbian, girl," Mercedes joked. "I guess it's up to me, then."

"You almost finished, girls? You're taking an awfully long time." Sam taunted. "My answer's pretty specific, so take all the time you need. It'll all be in vain, though. You'll never get this one."

Mercedes glanced back in surprise at his challenge. "Really? Is that a fact?" She quickly finished writing the last of her answer and turned around, holding her index card to her chest. "You first."

Sam tutted. "Ladies first. I _insist._"

She squinted playfully, sticking out her tongue. Puck took Sam's answer from him and read it over, eyes brightening as he read. "Oh, this is going to be a _sweet _victory!" he said with a maniacal laugh. "You'll never get this one. You girls should just wave the white flag and call it now!"

"Never!" Sugar yelled, pumping her fist. "Girl power will always prevail!"

Mercedes bit her lip and nervously drummed her tips against the solid paper. "My answer is….Sam's favorite is ham and cheese."

The boys collectively laughed as the girls groaned behind her, already feeling the dreaded sense of loss.

"Really, Mercedes? That was your answer? Even I knew it had to be more than that!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Honey, that's way too easy. There is no way that could've been the answer," Tina groaned, patting her friend's shoulder. "It was a good try, though. I'm sure it was close."

Mercedes silenced everyone with a smooth raise of her hand. "I wasn't done."

Sam's eyebrows rose, intrigued by the confident glint in his girlfriend's eye. "Please, do continue then, Ms. Jones," he crooned, leaning forward in rapt interest.

Mercedes primly cleared her throat and tossed her hair, smirking as she continued her answer. "Sam likes ham and Swiss; to be more specific, grilled to toasty perfection southern style, in a frying pan with at least two slices of Canadian bacon sandwiched in between. Those have to be fried beforehand, _just so,_ until the edges are browned to golden perfection. No lettuce or tomato, but two swipes of mayo, in between the meat so it doesn't gush out when he bites. Sam hates that."

As she described her answer, the boys' joyful smiles slowly faded, glancing back and forth between the card in Puck's hands and her mouth. All except Sam, who was enjoying the show immensely.

"Should I stop or keep going?" she asked, reaching back to accept Rachel and Sugar's high fives.

"No, it's okay, I think we-"

"Please keep going," Sam replied, interrupting Puck and ignoring Finn's daggered stare. "I think you have more to say."

Mercedes leaned forward until they were face to face. "If it's Tuesday, you _insist _we go over to Balducci's on third for their meatball marinara sub, with a sprinkle of oregano and at least three layers of provolone and mozzarella, because anything less—"

"—would be a cheat," Sam finished, grinning. "Damn."

Everyone went silent, stunned when Puck flipped the card over and everything she'd said, word for word, was written in Sam's answer.

"She cheated. She had to have cheated, right?" Joe asked, confused.

"How could she? You don't know what question you're gonna get until you pick it out of a hat. Besides, we didn't even plan to play this game until Mr. Schue told us Artie would be late. You were the one who even suggested it," Finn retorted. "How could she have cheated?"

"Well, I don't think we need any confirmation that we've won. I don't think you wanna keep going after an answer like that." Quinn told the boys. "How in the world did you know all that, Mercedes?"

Mercedes shrugged, mesmerized by her boyfriend's eyes. "I know him, Quinn. I just knew."

Sam cupped her cheek and pulled her into his lips, ignoring their friends' incessant chatter around them. Hearing how well she knew him was the biggest turn-on ever. He just had to taste her.

"You didn't mention acute memory," he whispered to her as they parted.

"Mention?"

"As one of your superpowers," Sam explained. "I told you that once and that was almost a year ago, when we first started dating."

"Well, how did you know I'd get it? Your answer was pretty detailed," she whispered back, stealing another kiss.

Sam shrugged. "I guess I knew you'd get it somehow. I guess that makes me a terrible teammate, but…" Sam chuckled, swiping the corner of her lip with his thumb. "I really wanted to hear you get it right."

"I love you, Sam Evans." Mercedes grinned, rubbing her nose against his before she kissed him again.

Santana cringed and clapped loudly, interrupting the couple's moment. "Okay, there is way too much kissing going on and not enough bowing and admitting defeat." She rubbed her hands together, with a devious glint in her eyes. "What do we win?"

"How about the leads?" Blaine suggested, earning several dirty glances from his teammates. "Just a suggestion…"

"I think it's a great one!" Kurt interjected, kneeling between Sugar and Rachel. "Girls? Let's vote! Who's our male lead?"

"Well, I think Artie should get the main verses for the opener. He's has the perfect voice for it. Plus, he never gets to sing lead ever and he's coming out with us even though his doctor said he should be on bed rest. He's a real trooper," Tina suggested. All the girls and Kurt nodded in agreement.

"Okay, easy choice. Now comes the hard vote. Female lead." Everyone looked around at each other, trying to gauge where everyone else stood. Brittany, Sugar, Tina and Mercedes all opened their mouths to voice their vote, but Rachel beat all of them to it with an answer of her own.

"It's obvious. Mercedes should lead." The entire group stared incredulously at her. "What? Doesn't it make sense? I mean, she's the reason we won. Plus, she's strong enough vocally to carry both songs. I think she should have the group and Trouble Tones number." Rachel grew more frustrated when everyone continued to stare. "What? Don't you agree?"

"You do realize that you said….Mercedes, right?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, I am fully aware, Quinn."

"And you do realize that Mercedes….isn't you, right?" Tina added. "You didn't slip and suggest the wrong name?"

"No!" Rachel scoffed.

"And you don't want any leads? None?" Mercedes asked, squinting suspiciously. "Why?"

"I don't know. I've always had leads in songs. I guess I thought….it would be nice to hear someone else lead for a change. It's our last year together. Someone else deserves a chance, right?"

Santana turned and kneeled on her seat, earnestly rummaging through the group's bags and belongings until she found what she was looking for. "Okay, here it is."

"Santana, what are you doing?!" Rachel exclaimed, shocked when Santana unzipped her duffle bag and rifled through her things.

"Aha!" Santana pulled out Rachel's hidden lunch bag, opening the Velcro flap and pulling out the homemade sandwich that she knew would be there. "What kind of sandwich is this?"

"Salmon with lettuce and tomato. But I don't see how-"

"Eat," Santana demanded, shoving the plastic Ziploc in her hands. Rachel cautiously took the bag and opened it, taking out her sandwich. She slowly ate, staring curiously at Santana the entire time.

"Why am I eating this?" she said, mouth full.

"First, you're less bitchy. Then, you're actually cool to hang with. Now, you're actually willing to share the spotlight and give other people in this group a fighting chance, _willingly_. And it all started after you started eating fish and crap. Now, eat." Rachel frowned at Santana's words, but shrugged them off and continued to enjoy her meal. She was hungry anyway.

Santana waved her hands in praise to the heavens. "If I didn't believe in you before, dude, I believe in you now. Praise and hallelujah!" The entire bus laughed.

Mr. Schue hopped on the bus in the midst of their laughter. "Alright guys, buckle up! As soon as Artie wheels up, we're hitting the road!" he yelled, hopping off to help Mrs. Abrams with Artie's things. Everyone paired off and sat in their seats, buckling in as instructed. Sam let Mercedes slide in first, since she liked the window seat. He loved the view as well, but he loved watching her more. It was an easy sacrifice.

"Babe, you okay? What's wrong?" he asked as he buckled up, noticing her frown.

Mercedes stared out the window, shaking her head at her thoughts. "I should have told her, Sam. I should have said something before I left."

Sam sighed, frustrated for her. "Babe, you can't change that now. Please don't spend the entire trip worrying about something you can't fix until you get back home." He'd hoped the game and company of friends would be enough of a distraction, but it was useless. Mercedes wouldn't let anything go if they really meant something to her. It was one of the reasons their relationship had stood the test of time and distance.

"I can't let it go, Sam. You know that. I should have told Erin. Now, if she finds out from someone else, she'll never forgive me. It'll destroy her."

"Mercedes, you don't know that." Sam said, although he had his doubts as well. "Remember we were talking about faith? You've gotta have some in others, too."

"What do you call faith in something that's as temperamental and unpredictable as you?" Mercedes asked, resting her cheek against the window. Sam hugged her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, resting her head above his heart instead.

"Maybe that's hope," he offered. "I don't know; I've never been really good with words. Dyslexia, remember?"

Mercedes chuckled at his lame attempt at joking. "But you always seem to know just what to say to make me smile. Thank you."

"Guess who's in the hizzouse, bitches!" Artie declared, pumping his fists as his mother carried him on and sat him across from Sam and Mercedes. The rest of the crew chanted his name, welcoming him onboard.

"Hey, Artie." Mercedes leaned up and looked around him. "Where's Erin? Is she in the other bus?"

Since Figgins could only get two shorter buses as opposed to one larger one, her circle friends and the girls who came forward were riding in a separate bus to come to New York with them. They weren't in New Directions, so technically they weren't covered by the glee budget, but Mr. Schue fought for them to come. It was his way of repaying them for all they'd done for Glee club.

Artie ignored her, kissing his mother on the cheek. "Mom, I'll see you later. Take care of yourself, and use that jujitsu move I taught you if anyone tries to roll up on you the wrong way." He demonstrated with a swift chop in the air, making his mother laugh.

"I swear, sometimes I don't know what to do with you." Mrs. Abrams said.

"Just love me, mama." He gave his most adorable third grade toothy smile, waving as she left. "Bye, moms!"

"Artie? Where's Erin?"

Artie waited until his mother was out of sight before he addressed Mercedes. When he turned to face her, his entire demeanor changed.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam demanded, holding Mercedes closer when Artie gave her a cutting stare.

"I hope you're pleased with yourself, Mercedes. I really hope you're happy. I warned you that this would happen," he spat coldly.

"Artie, what are you talking about?"

"Erin, Mercedes! That's what I'm talking about! That's who I'm talking about!" he hissed. "She knows about Donovan."

Mercedes swallowed hard, feeling her throat constrict. "H-how do you know that?"

"I tried to call her and tell her to come down, but she wouldn't answer. I rang the doorbell, and her dad answered. Apparently, she'd been locked in her room all day and wouldn't come out, no explanations or anything. When I asked him to call her again and tell her that I was here, he came back downstairs and said that she refused to see me because I was a liar and a deceiver. When I asked why she said that, you know what he said? He told me that she said to ask you," he said angrily. "Apparently, she said that you and I had gotten used to talking about her behind her back, so we shouldn't stop now."

"Oh, God." Mercedes groaned, closing her eyes. "I knew it. I knew she'd find out before I could tell her. I knew that she knew."

"Damn right she knew. And now she thinks that I've been lying to her like you have. She doesn't trust me anymore!" Artie screamed.

"Whoa, Artie. Take it easy." Mike said from the seat behind him. "You know Mercedes wasn't trying to mess you up with Erin."

"Yeah, but she did!" Artie yelled. He caught himself and took a calming breath, lowering his voice. "You guys don't understand what it's like for me to find a girl like her and have her interested in me. I've never hit it off with anyone like I've hit it off with Erin. For the first time in a long time, I found a girl who saw millions of guys walking around her giving a second look and chose me from the crowd, wheelchair and all. Do you know how big that is? She chose _me_. Not by default, not because she'd just broken up with her boyfriend and was on the rebound, and not because she felt sorry for me. She liked me because of who I was, and you ruined it. I was gonna take her to prom and ask her out, and all of that is ruined because you wouldn't open your mouth and tell her the truth," Artie growled. "Forgive me for yelling, but I'm pissed off."

"I'll talk to her, Artie. As soon as I get back, I'll tell her that you had nothing to do with it." Mercedes offered.

"Don't bother, Mercedes. She's probably not speaking to you, either. She just found out that her good friend knew that her brother was alive and she hid it from her. Would you talk to you right now?" Mercedes fell silent. "Besides, it wouldn't' be true. I did know. It may not have been as long as you've known, but I kept it from her too. Now she won't trust me again." Artie sighed. Now that he had vented, his anger fell away to solemn silence.

"Mercedes?" Both Sam and Mercedes turned to face Tina, sitting behind Artie. She held out her phone for them to take. "I know it may not be a good time, but you may want to read this."

Mercedes took the phone and tapped the screen until it lit. In bold print was an array of web links, highlighting Donovan and his soiled McMann name. One headline grabbed her attention in particular, so she clicked the link.

"Oh, God. Sam, look at this." She showed him a web article on a sleazy rag website, with an array of pictures of Donovan connected to the old news story about his home fire, the one that killed his birth father. What made it worse was the implications of the title, and the truth it held.

**_Donovan McMann:__ Rapist, Sadist…..child murderer? _DETAILS INSIDE!**

"Well, they found out everything." Sam sighed. "It seems the press is less on the ball than I thought. I was almost sure they would have gotten it before we did."

"It just broke this morning. It's already all over Facebook and the press is talking about it nonstop. It's probably already printed in the Friday papers." Tina reached out to touch her friend's hand comfortingly. "I'm so sorry, girl."

Mercedes squeezed back, smiling sadly. "Not as sorry as I am for Erin. No one should ever have to hear news like this. No one."

O-O

"No Johnnie, I will not do another press conference until after the trial!" McMann yelled, pinching his nose in frustration as the voice on the other end of the line continued to burden him with bad news. " No, I don't care what they're saying about us. It's not true until I say it's true. I refuse to bend to them! I'm in control here, damn it! I'm still in control here!"

It had been a long day. A long, tiring and emotionally taxing day of deflecting phone calls to the press and dodging of questions about a name that he'd rather leave in his past.

_Derrick._

What in God's name had possessed him to bring that name up, after years of suppressing the memories? He supposed it was guilt, along with the stress of Donovan's case and the whispers of disapproval around the office.

He'd never heard an ill word about himself before. Sure, he had people who hated him, despised him even. He was the big name judge in a small town, so the jealousy came with the territory. But no one had ever dared breathe a word of it when he was in earshot of their conversation. They would never dare before today, before his entire life tumbled out of control in front of all of Lima. He was Judge McMann! The D.A.! How dare they?

"Well, you tell them what I said and let them deal with it. I will protect my son at all costs." McMann heard the bustling of keys outside of his front door. _ Speak of the devil…._

Donovan unceremoniously threw the door open, kicking his shoes off wherever they fell and tossing his jacket on the floor before brushing past his father.

"I'm home, Dad," he said dully, leaving the door wide open behind him. McMann huffed and walked over to nudge the door closed with his foot.

"Well, hello to you too, son," he greeted him, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Have you suddenly forgotten your manners?"

"I said I'm home," Donovan said with an attitude, sloppily munching on an apple he'd gotten from the kitchen. "I even threw in the dad part for kicks. How much _manners _do you need?"

"Donovan, please. I am not in the mood to pick fights. I've been on the phone most of the day, covering your ass after this mess you made," he argued. "The least you can do is show me some respect."

"Who said I wanted you to fix anything? Who asked you to help me with any of this?" Donovan challenged. "I would have done fine without you. I don't need your charity, _Martin_."

McMann's temple throbbed. "Donovan, I am about a second away from—!" The voice on the other end interrupted his rant. "No, Johnnie! Just say no comment! I said I don't want to make a statement until after the—what?" Donovan stopped chewing when he saw how pale his father had become. "Who told them about any fire? There was no…"Judge McMann paused and swallowed hard, briefly glancing at his son. "I see. Johnnie, tell the press that I will make an official statement addressing the fire story tomorrow morning. Until then, I ask that they respect our family's privacy and leave us be….very good….Goodbye." He slammed the phone down on the receiver, pacing as he tugged on his perfectly coifed hair. "I can't take much more of this."

Donovan stood and smiled, finishing the rest of his snack as he watched his father come undone. "Oooh, the fire, huh? I figured that would come up sooner or later." He chuckled. "What are you going to tell them?"

"What the HELL do you think I 'm gonna tell them, Donovan?! According to the story, you're dead and gone and I still have you here living in my house. What the hell am I supposed to say?! You're not supposed to exist!" McMann caught himself and reigned in his anger. "I didn't mean that, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so gruff with you."

"Yeah, you did. But it's okay. I'm used to it." Donovan picked the seeds out of his apple core, flicking them one by one to the ground. "Tell them the truth, _dad_. Tell them who I am. It'll get you off the hook."

The judge gave his son a soft look. "Donovan, you know I would never do that. That fire was an accident. You are no more a murderer than the captain on the Titanic. You couldn't avoid it. You were only twelve. I would never blame you for that."

Donovan guffawed, shaking his head. "If that's what you want to believe."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" McMann frowned, not liking his tone.

"It means that the obvious is right in front of you and you refuse to see it. Your reality is what you want it to be, _Dad._ You paint things to be the way you wish they were, not the way they are. Why can't you see the fucking reality in front of you?" Donovan spat.

McMann stepped forward, irate and heaving. "You want to talk about reality, Donovan?! I've spent the last five fucking years taking a bitter spoonful dose of reality on a daily basis, thanks to you! Following behind you after every hearing and being your greatest advocate when everyone else thought you were guilty. Who fought for you, boy?" Donovan rolled his eyes and moved to step away, but McMann grabbed his arm and spun him around, demanding that he face him. "Answer me! Who believed you when girl after girl came forward, accusing you of going too far with them? Who paid the best attorneys in the state to analyze your case and give you legal ground?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Who manipulated the entire fucking legal system to make sure you got off without a scratch, hmm? You think evidence disappeared by itself? You think stories get skewed because of 'shuffling of paperwork'?" he growled. "If you believe that, then you are disillusioned."

Donovan's face remained even the entire time. "Did you believe me about Evangeline?"

The judge's hard demeanor broke at the familiar name. "Donovan, don't you dare go there…"

"No, answer me, _Dad! _Answer me now, _Martin!_" he barked. "Did you believe me when your precious son's _ sister_ came forward and called me a sexual offender? Did you believe me then?"

The judge quieted. "I believed you when you said you were only talking to her. I know you would never do anything to harm—"

"Who? My sister?! Newsflash, dumbass, she's not my sister!" he yelled. "I'm not Derrick! You're not my father!"

The words visibly hit McMann below the belt. "You don't think I'm your father, Donnie?" He asked.

"Oh, don't you DARE call me that!" he screamed, pointing in his face. "You know, let's not kid ourselves and pretend that we found each other like Annie and Daddy Warbucks. Let's not romanticize our shit!" he said angrily. "You have just as much riding on this as I do and we both know it. You didn't keep me because you loved me. You kept me because I knew things I shouldn't have. I knew who Derrick was to you and what it would cost if the world knew. You'd lose everything."

"Son, that isn't true…"

"Stop calling me that! Stop calling me son like you love me, like I'm yours! It's not Donovan you're concerned about, it's the McMann attached to it. I'm just some fucking replacement child you're using to alleviate your guilt!"

" Son, I…."

"I AM NOT DERRICK!" he screamed, punching his fist into the mirror hanging behind him. The glass shattered in large shards, breaking over his knuckles and crashing to the floor. He stared into the broken reflection for a quiet moment, holding up his bloody fist in awe of his own passion. A jagged image of McMann's horrified eyes met his skewed reflection, and he smiled in satisfaction.

"Do you see me now, _dad?_" he asked lowly, eerily calm. "Do you see me now?" The judge couldn't find the words to respond.

"Yes, you see what I am now, who I've always been. I'm no angel or saint of a son. I'm the demon that killed him. I'm the trouble that took him away. Do you see me now?" he turned to face his father, flashing his bloody fists free of glass. "You've been raising Derrick's murderer."

The judge 's blood ran cold as the chill of Donovan's presence passed him, and it was only when he heard him climb the steps and slam the door closed that he realized he wasn't breathing. Visions of the ashes of his son at the crime scene filled his vision. He'd been a shell cast in ash, with legs and shape still intact. The police uncovered his charred corpse from the fire, and the first thing he'd done was reach out and touch his little hand. He hadn't touched his son since he was a baby, wrapped up in his arms.

But when his small pinky touched his thumb, it disintegrated, crumbling in his hands. He didn't need forensics to tell him that it was his son's body. Every parent feels the loss of life in their bones when their child has passed on.

Remembering now, he recalled a dark shadow that loomed over him as he cried. He swore it was Derrick's spirit looming over him, consoling him in his grief. And when he looked up and saw a small Donovan reaching out to touch his shoulder in comfort, he was certain that he was right. He took this little boy, believing with all his heart that they were the answer to each other's prayers.

But he heard him now. He saw him for who he was. He would never be Derrick. And it was unfair to ever assume that he could be.

Before he collapsed to the ground, a brief thought crossed his mind. He realized when young Donovan reached out to touch his shoulder, his smile wasn't warm or apologetic.

His smile held secrets.

O-O

"Sam…..Sam, wake up."

Sam grumbled and snuggled deeper into his girlfriend's chest, tightening his hug around her waist as he settled back to sleep. Mercedes chuckled and watched him, amused by the way his lip twitched into a smile when she ran her fingers through his hair.

They were almost six hours into their ten hour drive to the big city, and it was already growing dark outside. Most everyone on the bus was asleep now, except Mr. Schue, who was driving, and an annoyed Artie, who'd moved to the very back of the bus after their argument and blasted his _Michael's greatest hits _collection in his headphones to drown out his pain. Summer allowed for a bit more sunshine than usual, so Mercedes didn't even realize it was almost midnight until they'd passed a large billboard that read the time. She only had five more minutes to do what she'd planned.

"Sam, I'm serious, wake up. It's important," she quietly insisted, shaking his shoulder.

Sam yawned and stretched, rubbing his eyes and clearing away any traces of crud from the corners of his lips. "It better be important, woman. You just took me away from my favorite pillows," he said with a sleepy smile.

Mercedes reached into her small satchel and pulled out a small Styrofoam container and lighter. "And I know it's in here somewhere…Ah! Here it is!" She flipped open the top of the container with her thumb, revealing a large slice of Sam's birthday cake, and stuck one red and blue striped candle right below the gel writing of his name.

"What's this?" he asked, watching her light the small fire.

"Remember when you asked me what the difference was between knowing someone and loving someone? I looked it up until I found a definition that would fit. Knowing means to be certain of, to know something as fact or truth from acquired knowledge." She took his hand and offered him the container to hold, looking into his eyes. "Now here's what it means for us." She took a deep breath and smiled, appearing as if she'd prepared this small speech in advance. "I've loved many, many people in my lifetime, some who've loved me back just as much and others who've never returned my feelings."

"They were fools," he said softly. Mercedes looked down bashfully for a moment, before continuing.

"Some were family; some were friends….some were relationships that were passionate for a fleeting moment, so much so that I thought it would be enough to carry us into forever." She took his free hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. Their small rings touched. "But I've never, ever been certain that they were the one. There was always question, always doubt. But Sam, after everything we've shared, after learning more about you and getting the chance to love you and let you in, I'm absolutely certain that you are the one I will spend the rest of my life with. There isn't any lingering question in my mind. I've never said anything else as confidently as I've said I love you. I love you, Sam. You make me better. With you, life makes perfect sense and I'm never afraid to face it. I want to marry _you_, buy a home, top the charts and call you to tell you about it, argue with you over stupid things, and turn in bed to see your face so I can make it all up to you. I want the large and obnoxious country superhero wedding, and the twenty kids…."

"Twenty?" he choked out, overwhelmed by his tears and his joy.

Mercedes shrugged, biting her lip. "The number grew on me," she joked. "I want you, Sam. I know you and you know me. We're one without even trying." She pushed his hand up slowly to ease the candle near his lips. "So, before it's officially midnight and your birthday is over, I wanted to give you the celebration I intended to give you that day at the lake. Happy birthday, Samuel Blake Evans. You're still number one to me, and you always will be."

Sam ducked his head, chin trembling as he smiled and brushed away his tears. "Oh God…" he chuckled. "This is….I'm…..Mercedes, I'm so…."

"Just blow out your candle and make a wish, birthday boy. We only have a minute left." She said gently, dabbing away her own tears as she chuckled.

He nodded and closed his eyes, taking a long moment to think of his wish before blowing out his candle, just before the hour hand on her watch touched twelve.

"What did you wish for?" she asked, touching his cheek.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," he answered. "Just know it has everything to do with us and this moment. When it happens, I'll let you know."

"I look forward to it." She smiled, leaning in to meet his puckered lips as he offered her a thankful kiss.

"I love you so much," he whispered, touching every detail of her face with the pad of his thumb. "I love everything about you." His grin grew. "I know you."

She nodded happily, biting her lip. "You're the only one." Resting his cake in his lap, he cupped both her cheeks and kissed her again, longer and more passionately than the last time. He sucked on her bottom lip and kissed her chin, peppering her cheeks and neck with soft pecks until he settled near her neck.

She cupped his head and urged his lips back to hers, wanting to finish her gift before the moment got too heated. "I still have one more thing to give you," she said breathily, between the smacks of their lips.

Sam leaned back and decided to behave, anxious for whatever else she had for him. "There's more? What else?" he asked eagerly. She opened a small zippered pocket on the outside of her bag, pulling out a small card with a tiny red bow stuck to the top of it. She hesitated before handing it to him, appearing anxious.

She told him, "This is…this is the most important gift I can give you. I think now it's the right time."

Curiously, he removed the bow and took a sharp breath, reading the words. "This is a hotel key to Howard-Johnson."

She nodded. "I know."

He looked into her eyes, gauging her response. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

She nodded again, surely. "Yes. I'm ready for us to make love again," she replied. "I bought it with the emergency debit account daddy gave me. We have to use it before he sees the statement, or else we're dead." She chuckled at her own humor. "When the time is right, we'll both know, but I want you to keep it until then. I wanted you to know that I'm okay with…taking that last step with you."

The moment felt as poignant as the first time, when she'd given him her virginity an entire summer ago. He leaned in to kiss her again, savoring her lips and the precious trusting words that came from them.

"You know I'm gonna take care of you, right?" he kissed her slowly as she nodded. "I'm gonna take care of you, Mercedes. We're gonna go as slow as you want, I swear. I'm not gonna hurt you…I'm never gonna hurt you like that."

It was her turn to cry, overwhelmed at his words. "I know. I trust you, Sam," she said in a strangled voice, wiping her cheeks. "I know."

"Thank you," he whispered as his lips rested on her cheek. They stayed that way for a while, eyes closed, pressed cheek to cheek, as the myriad of feelings washed over them. He lifted her left hand pressed a kiss to her ring finger as they parted, running his lips over the fraying promise ring. "We're gonna have to get some real rings on this finger pretty soon."

"Well, I guess I'll have to get to work on that Grammy. I'm not going to marry you a second earlier," she said, wagging her finger.

"Well, get to gettin' then, woman!" he joked. She swiped her finger in the whipped frosting and smudged them on his lips.

"Thought I'd get my practice in for the wedding day," she joked back, licking the rest of the sweet treat off her finger.

"Well in that case…." Her eyes widened when he pinched off a large chunk of cake and rolled it in his fingers.

"You wouldn't dare." She shrieked when he smashed the dessert over her lips, smushing it all over her mouth. Deciding it was fair game, she pinched off her own large piece and did the same to him, messing up the seat and back of the bus seat with flying frosting and cake crumbs. They both laughed, dodging each other's fingers, before Sam waved his hand in mock surrender and leaned in to rub his sticky lips against hers.

"I like eating my cake better this way," he explained, sucking the sweet off of her lips and corners of her mouth. "This was the best birthday present I've ever gotten."

"Yeah, it was." She smiled, licking his cheek. "Next to your tree house, of course."

"That my awesome girlfriend built me, _of course." _he replied. "I can't wait to start forever with you."

"Well, you know what they say. Forever starts with a day…." She said, hoping he'd remember.

"And a day with a moment," he answered, remembering perfectly.

"And a moment with—" he cut her off with his eager mouth, finishing her sentence with action instead of words. Mercedes was far from complaining.

The entire time, an awake and very homesick Mr. Schue listened in to the intimate conversation from the driver's seat, moved to a few tears himself from the utter beauty of their young love. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, hoping that the person on the other line would pick up.

"Emma?...Hey, I know it's late, but….I just wanted to call to tell you how much I love you. I don't say it enough." He chuckled at the response on the other end. "Yes, even at twelve midnight when you're trying to sleep."

**O-O**

Just a little after two thirty, a sleepy New Directions crew hobbled into their hotel rooms, yawning as they haphazardly threw their bags in a piles near the doors and plopped on the beds closest to them. The boys and girls were in separate rooms, so Sam and Mercedes parted ways with a kiss and whispered promise to meet up for breakfast in the morning. The girls from the second bus came in shortly after, settling into beds on the other side of the room. Some of the wealthier girls elected to reserve private rooms, and Bee had her own room across the hall.

Feeling the residual ache from staying awake for twelve hours on a small bus, Mercedes wrapped her hair and changed into her PJs to get ready for a comfortable sleep. She settled in next to Santana on one of the king sized beds, grabbing a fluffy pillow from the pile at the foot of the bed. (Both Brittany and Santana hated sleeping with pillows. They'd much rather rest against each other, like they were doing now.) Just as Mercedes closed her eyes, she felt a small weight fall from the air and drop on her chest. She sat up, confused at the small broken wires littering her chest. She looked all over the ceiling, but she couldn't find where they'd come from.

"You're welcome," Santana said sleepily, watching Mercedes through half-lidded eyes.

Mercedes held the wires out to her friend. "What are these? Where are they from?"

"You know, if you and Trouty plan to get freaky in public places, you should be sure to cover all the evidence," she said in a yawn, smacking her lips. "Like recording security cameras for instance."

Mercedes gasped softly, mindful of the sleeping people around her. "I forgot about those!" she whispered.

Santana shrugged and snuggled deeper into the covers. "Don't sweat it, girl. One summer with my cousin Jorge and I know all the tricks to media and technology. Like the number one cardinal rule: when in doubt, rip it out. It's crude, but it works. Figgins is gonna blow a coronary when he sees, but I'll just say the camera was crappy. With his cheap ass budget spending, I know he'll buy it."

"Thanks, girl," Mercedes said, relieved.

"I owed you for that bathing suit save at Puck's pool party. That could have made me popular with the neighborhood for all the wrong reasons." She rolled over and sighed, drifting back to sleep. "We're even."

Mercedes watched the steady rise and fall of her friend's back and internally thanked the lord for her quick thinking.

_If only I could have done the same…._

Erin's absence came back to her as she glanced around the darkened room, as did the guilt for keeping her away with her secrecy. Sam was right. She couldn't change it now. Erin knew, and now she was mad at her. The best she could hope for now is that Erin would calm down enough to realize that she'd only kept Donovan's identity to protect her. She was banking on her understanding heart pulling through to save their friendship, at least until she got the chance to explain her side.

Pushing the thoughts away, Mercedes said a quick prayer and quieted her mind, settling down to rest. Nationals competition was later this evening, and they had a full day of prep work and performance ahead of them.

**O-O**

Fortunately for our weary group, fate was on their side. This year, the crowd for nationals was overwhelming. Because there were so many new performance groups that signed up this year (mostly due to the growing popularity of glee clubs and musical performance in the media), the judges' panel divided the competition between Saturday and Sunday, in alphabetical order. All groups A through M would perform on Saturday and N through Z would compete on Sunday, with the judging and awarding of trophies moved to Sunday evening. The New Directions crew took the free day to see the sights and stroll through Manhattan, passing a bit of time doing what they pleased until they had to return to the hotel for rehearsal. All the girls except Santana and Brittany ran around shopping with Kurt as their mock tour guide (the couple elected to stay behind in the hotel to "get some more rest" and promised to meet them up for lunch), and all the guys except Puck (who was actually staying behind to get some more rest) rode the subway to the empire state building and took silly pictures of their greatest King Kong impressions. A drag queen on the street corner caught Blaine mid pose and joined in the fun, posing as his damsel in distress. When the statuesque blonde, who introduced herself as divine le freak, propositioned Finn to follow her to the nearest hotel for a more risqué game of "climb the tower" for $75, the group made the unanimous decision to meet the girls up for lunch early.

They all went to 42nd street pizza for lunch and chatted for a bit, sharing their hilarious city experiences and New York momentos. When Blaine finished up their drag queen hooker story, Kurt shared their odd similar experience with a hobo flasher in front of H&M, which made the whole table shake with laughter. One of the girls from the sister circle noted that they still had more time before they returned to the hotel, so they decided to take a group trip on the city tour bus to take in the sights they'd missed.

Sam bought a small disposable camera and took pictures everywhere he and Mercedes went, despite her giggling protests. Some were expected and cliché, mostly famous attractions, while some were downright silly, like his one of the morbidly obese street rat resting atop a gutter nibbling on a stray hot dog. Most of his pictures were of Mercedes' reactions to it all, her smile and wrinkly nose, her gasps and bright eyes. He loved watching her expressive face, and she looked especially beautiful against the backdrop of such a magical city. He knew she belonged here. She looked like a star in every shot.

"You're a star." He said aloud, just after a shot of her making a silly face in her statue of liberty foam hat.

"You make me shine." She answered smoothly, making bunny ears and smiling for the next picture.

After the tour, the crew decided to head back to the hotel before it got too late. They had already gotten their reminder texts from Will and Bee. They went up to their rooms to change, and Mercedes tried to pull Artie aside before they went, but he'd already gone in the elevator. He was still avoiding her, and while he didn't seem nearly as pissed as yesterday, he still had a deflated air about him. He'd hardly spoken a word to anyone all day.

"Can we talk before you go?"

Mercedes jumped slightly, shaken from her thoughts. "Yeah, sure Eva. Call isn't for another thirty minutes." She pointed to the Starbucks in the lobby. "Talk over coffee?"

The girl nodded and found a table, setting their things on the seats to mark their spots. "You sit. I'm buying." She said, and hushed her with a hand before she could protest. "I insist. Consider it a small token of thanks."

Mercedes nodded and accepted. "I like their chocolate chip frap, tall sized, if you insist."

"Coming right up!" Eva smiled, running over to get their drinks. She returned with Mercedes's order and a steaming vente macchiato for herself. "My weakness is caramel. I love the stuff." She explained, sipping on her drink. "I wanted to talk to you about…Donovan."

Mercedes sat a bit straighter at the name. "Okay. What about him?"

"I haven't been completely honest with you, Mercedes." She admitted, brown eyes guiltily looking over the rim of her steaming cup as she sipped. "I promised I would, since it would help the case, and I didn't get the chance to explain."

"Eva, what are you talking about?" she asked, perplexed. "Is there more I should know?"

Her brown curls anxiously bounced with her. Mercedes noticed she'd bounced like that when she told her the details of her attack. Eva was one of Donovan's earliest victims, the earliest out of all the girls. She'd been keeping her attack secret longer than most of them. "I knew Donovan….when he was Donnie."

Mercedes did a spit take worthy of the movies. "Excuse me?" she asked in shock, wiping the stray chocolate chip and coffee drip from her chin.

"I knew Donovan from childhood. I know I told you that I knew him in school and met him when I was twelve, but that's not the truth at all. I've known him for most of my life."

"How long?" Mercedes asked, setting down her cup.

"Since I was smaller than that." She replied, making Mercedes's eyes bug even more. "Maybe about eight or nine. He lived near me. We even used to play together."

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Mercedes, trying her best to control the rise of her voice. "Why are you telling me now?"

"Because of this." Eva took out her phone and pulled up the same article that Tina had shown Mercedes in the bus. "That story is true. Donnie is a murderer, but his father wasn't the only one killed. My brother was in that fire."

Mercedes stared at her, mouth agape, for a moment. "Wait….what?!" she asked, trying her best to process what she'd heard. "He killed your brother and assaulted you? I'm beyond confused. Please, you've got to start at the beginning, because…"

"I know, it's a lot." She admitted. "But I promise it's the truth. And I can explain everything." She pulled out her small wallet, sliding out a picture to hand to her. She proudly pointed out the small brown face in the red sweater, missing two teeth as he grinned for the camera. "That was my little brother, Derrick. We were a year and a half apart. He was always such a ham in front of the camera."

Mercedes recognized him from Erin's picture, the boy she'd identified as McMann's son. In front of the brighter background, the resemblance was unmistakable. Mercedes looked back at her, hesitantly handing back the picture. "You guys don't look much alike." She replied, not trusting herself to say anything else. How much did she know?

"Different fathers." She replied, smiling fondly at the image before tucking it back in her wallet. "I look more like my mom and he looks more like his dad…at least I think he does. Mom never told us who he was."

_Bingo._ "So, he never knew his dad?"

"Nope." Sighed Eva, shrugging. "Been out of the picture since he was born, according to Mom. She used to tell Derrick that he was away working whenever he asked, but when he got older, that answer wasn't enough anymore. So, she just explained that he was out of the picture and that some daddies can't always be there for their children. I knew my dad. My folks were married and split up before I was old enough to care, but he always came around for me. He'd never claim Derrick though, and I always hated him for that. I knew my brother wanted a daddy and couldn't understand why my dad wasn't willing to share. We shared everything."

"How does Donovan factor into all of this?" asked Mercedes, eager to hear how their worlds collided.

"Well, the older Derrick got, the angrier he got. He couldn't understand why his dad was off somewhere and didn't want him. It pissed him off. He's such a sensitive thing, or was anyway. Sorry, sometimes I forget he's not here." She apologized, catching her error.

"It happens. No need for apologies." Mercedes replied.

"Well anyway, soon he got mad at my mother for hiding who his father was. No matter how much he asked, she would refuse to tell him. She said it was better that he never know. " Eva seemed to struggle with this part more than the last. "Then he started running off for hours, then days at a time. We were worried sick. One day, I followed him out and saw him hanging out with Donovan and some other guys. I didn't know them personally, but I knew they were trouble. Donovan used to live a couple blocks away from us, and I'd always here screaming in the night from his house. I think his parents used to fight or whatever. It'd get really loud during the night, then all of a sudden get really quiet, like a fight had never happened at all. It was weird. You'd hear glass breaking and shouting, and then nothing. The nothing frightened me more than the noise. People used to say that Donovan's dad would choke his mom until she stopped breathing, but never enough to kill her."

Mercedes frowned at the description of Donovan's turbulent home. "Go on."

"But I didn't say anything to mommy. Even though it was bad…..I knew it was better than him stewing at home. I don't know, I guess Derrick found the male figures he was looking for, y'know? It's different for boys in single parent homes. Girls usually have their moms, but who do boys have? They find each other and try to father themselves. That's what Donovan and his little crew were. A group of lost boys trying to find their manhood in each other when their homes failed them. What's weird was the other two boys came from good homes. I followed them out to their mansions and saw them laughing with their dads. But I guess rich kids can feel parent-less, too. Those big houses just leave room for a lot more secrets."

"How did you meet Donovan personally? Did he catch you?"

She shook her head, watching the steam rise from the mouth of her cup. "I met him after my brother died. After all my time following him, I felt like I knew him already. And the way he approached me…..it seemed like he knew me, too. He steps to you like you've been friends for a while, you know?"

"I know." Mercedes answered, thinking back to their meeting. "It's creepy."

"Yeah. It made me feel violated before he even touched me." She said sadly. "We fought that day."

"About your brother?" Mercedes watched the petite girl's whole demeanor change. Her face reddened and her hands tightened and trembled around her cup.

"He told me how he killed him. He said he watched him burn, trapped under a fallen beam, and smiled when he died. Can you believe him? My brother trusted him! Derrick looked up to him like an older brother! He didn't have any other guys to hang out with. I trusted him to take care of him when I couldn't." she said. "People forget about the kids like us, on the poorer side of Lima. We find ways to take care of our own. He didn't have to love him, but he should have cared enough to save his life. That's all I wanted." She angrily swiped a tear from her eye, straightening up and flexing her fingers to work out the ache from clenching so hard. "Then, he told me that he would watch me die like he watched my brother die. He held me down and forced himself on me. He told me that I screamed just like him, all high pitched and whiny…"

"Oh god, Eva. Don't say anymore if you don't want to." Mercedes begged. "I'm so sorry that happened."

"Not as sorry as Donovan's gonna be when he gets his." She spat. "He's dying by my hand. As God is my witness, I'm gonna watch him suffer the way Derrick suffered."

"Eva, that's not the way to handle it. I get your anger, believe me. I have a brother and I can't imagine how I would feel if I knew someone watched him die. But killing him won't do anything else but leave more blood on the floor and hurt more innocent people."

"But look how many innocent people he's already hurt, Mercedes? What about us?" she whispered. "He's caused far more pain than he's gotten."

"I don't know if that's completely true." She said in a far off voice.

"It's true for me! He's an unrepentant, lying, murdering sadist."

"At twelve years old? Eva, think about it." Mercedes pleaded. "What twelve year old wakes up one day and decides to rape and murder?"

"A psychopath, that's who." Eva growled.

"I don't think so. I think there's more than that." Mercedes explained. "I don't think he was always this way."

Eva looked at her disapprovingly. "Whose side are you on anyway? I thought you were fighting for us."

"I am! I'm fighting for justice! I want peace for me and everyone else victimized." Mercedes fired back. "I just….I realized that there might be more victims than I thought."

"Well, whether you do something or not, I'm gonna handle him. I'm gonna handle him good." Mercedes looked worriedly at the murderous look in Eva's eyes.

"Let's fight my way, Eva. _Please._" She begged, holding her hand and bringing her out of her rage. "Don't do anything hasty. It will cost you more than you've lost."

**O-O**

They waited backstage the day of the performance, waiting for the announcer to call their name. Their costumes were together, voices were warmed up and prepped, and they finally had all of their music in order. Mr. Schue arranged them in their proper places, announcing that they would be on in five.

"You ready?" Sam asked Mercedes, staring at her fidgeting hands.

"Yeah. Kind of nervous, though." She admitted. "That last number is…pretty revealing."

"Just do what feels right to you, babe. You'll do fine." He reassured, grabbing her wrists and sliding their hands together. "We got this."

She smiled up at him, straightening the red bandana tied across his forehead. "We so got this."

"_And now, from McKinley high, The New Directions!"_

"Alright, places everyone. Good luck!" whispered Mr. Schue, running off to the side of the stage.

"I thought you were supposed to say break a leg?" Brittany asked Santana, genuinely concerned. Santana kissed her cheek.

"Break a leg, babe." She said. Brittany smiled, breathing easier, as the curtains opened and the guys ran off stage until they were queued.

The stage was pitch black and the audience was completely silent. The only sound was the quiet whisper of the fog machine, creating an opaque mist across the floor. As the lights came on, the girls were clustered together in the middle, in various positions, pretending to gossip and file their nails. They all had on white buttoned shirts on, with a modest peek of skin showing below their peter pan collars, and pleated black dress pants, accentuated with a thick black silk ribbon tied under their busts into prim delicate bows. They all stopped and pretended to notice the crowd, shuffling into order and primping before they clasped their hands and prepared to sing. Just as they opened their mouths, the boys ran on from stage left, wearing black martial arts style uniforms, with ripped off sleeves and jagged cuts in the pants. They had red bandanas tied across their foreheads to match the red belts around their waists, and held silken black capes above their heads by their strings as they surrounded the girls.

_**(Blaine): Circling your, circling your, circling your head,**__**  
><strong>__**Contemplating everything you ever said**_

The boys held up the capes and walked slowly around them, shielding their view of them. Their heads popped up over the hem of the cape on the second line, and the girls jumped in fright, huddling closer together.

_**(Blaine:)Now I see the truth, I got doubt**__**  
><strong>__**A different motive in your eyes and now I'm out**_

_**See you later**_

They tossed the capes in the girls' faces, walking away confidently in a spread out circle. They stomped the beat of the base before the last line, turning their heads around to bark the _see you later_ at the shaking girls in the center. The girls bunched the capes in their hands, hiding their eyes behind them.

_**(Sam:)I see your fantasy, You want to make it a reality paved in gold**_

_**See inside, Inside of our heads, yeah**_

The guys sauntered back to center, making various lewd and suggestive gestures. Sam licked his middle finger slowly, bottom to top, before he thrust it repeatedly in the air in an obvious "fuck you". Puck and Mike grabbed their crotches and wiggled it around, while Joe and Artie crossed their arms across their pelvises and thrust, smiling. Kurt beckoned his focus girl, Brittany, with a suggestive come hither finger, and Blaine and Finn charged and leapt forward until they were just in front of Rachel and Santana, rolling their bodies against them.

_**(Sam:)Well now that's over**__**  
><strong>__**(Finn:) I see your motives inside, decisions to hide**_

The guys paired off with their girls, looping their fingers into the ribbon below their breasts and dragging their stiff bodies closer to theirs, licking their lips and singing the last line in their ear. The capes fell away from their grasp in fright, falling to their feet. As the electric guitar entered and reenergized the tempo, the guys stepped back and did a spinning high kick over their partner's head, while the girls ducked just in time, hiding their faces in their hands. Artie yanked Sugar in his lap and wheeled down center stage, tossing her off his lap to the near edge of the stage like a sack of potatoes.

_**(All boys:)Back off I'll take you on**__**  
><strong>__**Headstrong to take on anyone**__**  
><strong>__**I know that you are wrong**__**  
><strong>__**Headstrong we're Headstrong**_

The boys slowly picked the girls up by their hair, spinning them around to disorient them and shoving them until they nearly lost balance. They quickly pulled them back by their ribbons, looping their arm around their neck as they slowly loosened their bows and let the ribbon fall in their hands. On the third verse, they grabbed their shoulders and quickly spun them back around, ripping their blouses open to reveal the laced collar white camisoles underneath. Kurt had the presence of mind to mask the snap closures with actual buttons to create the illusion without the mess of material flying everywhere and tripping up their choreography. On the last line, they took the ribbon and tied it around the girls' eyes like blindfolds, poking their fingers against temples then touching their own on the last _headstrong._

_**(All boys) Back off I'll take you on**__**  
><strong>__**Headstrong to take on anyone**__**  
><strong>__**I know that you are wrong **_

_**and this is not where you belong**_

The boys yanked the remaining material from the makeshift blindfolds and yanked their heads back. The girls finally showed signs of fighting back, grabbing them by the forearms, but instead, the boys looped their right arms in the space of the girls' left and turned, pressing their backs together and leaning forward. Artie, with Sugar in his lap, trapped her hands behind her instead, tightening his hold as she flailed and struggled. The girls pulled back, and a small struggle for power went back and forth, until the boys finally got the upper hand and flipped them to the ground on the last line, pretending to spit in their face. Sugar flipped over Artie's chair and tumbled to the ground, and Artie wheeled around her center stage, marking his territory as he spat. The girls turned their faces away in the same moment, wiping their cheeks in mock disgust. The boys stepped forward and loomed over them, waiting to see what they would do.

_**(All boys) I won't give anything away**_

_**I won't give everything-**_

Before they could finish, the girls did a spinning kick on the floor, dropping them to the ground. Sugar lifted the handles on Artie's wheelchair and tossed him to the ground, taking his seat instead. The sound of a record scratching interrupted the first song, changing its key and tempo with a jumble of squeaking sounds and mixed notes. Control had obviously shifted in that one moment, and the crowd went wild, knowing it was the girls' time to shine.

The girls stood and slowly slid their blindfolds up, moving it to their foreheads and pulling the ends to tighten its hold. The capes the boys had flown in with were tossed to each girl, courtesy of Sugar as she circled around. The girls turned them around, revealing a crimson red underside, and tied them around their waists. They tossed their dress shirts off stage and kicked off their heels, taking position over the fallen boys.

_**(Mercedes:)**_ _**Well I thought I knew you, thinkin' that you were true**__**  
><strong>__**Guess I, I couldn't trust called your bluff time is up**__**  
><strong>__**'Cause I've had enough**_

They crouched down and grabbed their chins, wearing vicious snarls as Mercedes sang. The boys tried to stand, but the girls kicked them down before they could rise. And at every beat, they attempted to stand, but were kicked down, harder and stronger than the last time. On the last line, the girls pushed their bodies with their feet and slid them across the stage.

_**(Mercedes) After all of the stealing and cheating you probably think that**__**  
><strong>__**I hold resentment for you**__**  
><strong>__**(All) But uh uh, oh no, you're wrong**_

The boys stood quickly, brushing themselves off. The girls positioned themselves in traditional mortal combat fighting stance, bouncing on their knees and prime for a fight as they charged toward them. Artie crawled back to center on his elbows, reaching for the handle on his chair as Sugar rested on its hind wheels, waiting for him to approach. As soon as they came, they gave them a sharp judo chop to their neck and a sharp blow atop their head, knocking them to their knees. On _you're wrong_, they jumped up and kicked them down in the chest, one after the other in a circle until each boy fell in succession, like dominoes.

_**(Mercedes)'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do, I wouldn't know**__**  
><strong>__**Just how capable I am to pull through**__**  
><strong>__**(Tina) So I want to say thank you**__**  
><strong>__**Cause it**_

The girls fell to their knees, facing their male partner, and spun them by their bandana, yanking it over blindfolding them just like they'd done to them earlier. Once their back was turned, the girls looped their arms around their necks, bending them backward, and gave them a swift punch in their taut bellies. The boys spun and fell flat on their backs, sprawled out and heaving. On _pull through, _they crawled over their tired bodies, smiling in their faces, and pulled a lipstick tube from the parting of their blouse, smudging a bright pink creamy color over their lips as they thanked them in song. The boys angrily wiped their mouths with their arm, flipping the girls over on their back.

_**(All girls) Makes me that much stronger  
>Makes me work a little bit harder<br>It makes me that much wiser  
>So thanks for making me a fighter <strong>_

The girls raised their knees and gave their partners a swift kick to the groin, flipping them back on their backs and regaining the upper hand. The boys flipped them over their heads and landed them on their backs, doing a backflip of their own to land on top of them at _harder_. As they sang the third verse, the pulled them closer, little by little until their lips almost touched, winking on _wiser_ as they maneuvered their feet between the boys' legs and locked ankles. Their smiles turned to scowls on the last line, ending in an epic head butt on _fighter _before they flippedtheir partner back over. The girls quickly sprung up on the balls of their feet, priming themselves to fight again.

_**(All girls)Made me learn a little bit faster**__**  
><strong>__**Made my skin a little bit thicker**__**  
><strong>__**Makes me that much smarter**__**  
><strong>__**So thanks for making me a fighter**_

The choreography was a series of punches and blocking, push and pull of control and domination for power. The girls lunged below as the boys moved above, the boys ducked as the girls swung their fists. At one point, the entire stage was a flash of black and white moving in violent sync, with flashes of crimson punctuating the violence as the skirts of the girls' outfits twirled and the boys' moved about , ducking and bobbing in their wide band bandanas. It was a brilliantly choreographed scene of violence, with a divided crowd cheering and rooting for their favored side. The judges remained silent and somewhat puzzled, mesmerized by the scene but unclear about the anger at the heart of it all.

_**(Girls) I am a fighter and I**_

_**(Boys) Back off, I'll take you on**_

_**(Girls) I ain't gone stop, no**_

_**(Boys) Headstrong, I'll take on anyone**_

_**(Girls) There is no turning back**_

_**(Boys) I know that you're all wrong**_

_** (Mercedes:) I've had enough! Oh oh!**_

The fighting froze around Mercedes' large voice, only for a moment, before the boys looked at each other and slowly started to shrink away. The girls watched them menacingly as they retreated, and they fell under the power of their gaze and crawled backwards on their hands, toward the corner edge of the stage.

_**(Girls) Makes me that much stronger**_

_**Makes me work a little bit harder**_

_**Makes me that much stronger**_

_**(Girls)So thanks for making me a fighter **_

_**(Boys) This is not where you belong…**_

With each line, the girls took a step, balling their fists. With each line, the boys cowered, crawling back two at a time as they grew closer. They sang their argument, desperately trying to hold onto the last of their bravado, but it was clear to them and to everyone watching that the girls were a force to be reckoned with.

_**(Girls)**_ _**Made me learn a little bit faster**__**  
><strong>__**Made my skin a little bit thicker**__**  
><strong>__**Makes me that much smarter**_

_**So thanks for making me a fighter**_

_**(Girls) Oh oh…oh oh….oh oh…**_

_**(Boys) This is not where you belong..**_

_**(Girls) Oh oh….oh oh…oh oh… **_

_**(Boys) This is not where you belong**_

The boys stopped and felt behind them, realizing that they had nowhere else to go. The girls closed in on them, standing above them and crossing their arms as they watched them shake and hide their faces.

_**(Girls) So thanks for making me **_

_**(Mercedes) A FIGHTER!**_

The girls punched their fists in their hands and stomped as one on the beat, sending the boys flying backwards off stage onto a pile of soft mats lining the floor of the auditorium. The powerful sight of the girls standing over the edge, flexing their muscles as the fog swirled around their feet and the wind whipped around them brought the crowd to their feet, cheering and hollering with applause. They slowly started to step back, one by one, back to center stage, until the stage slowly faded to black.

**O-O**

The crowd quieted quickly once the row of the New directions crew came into view, standing side by side in a line wearing grey shirts under a single beam of light. The pairs stood together, obviously out of their previous characters. The only exceptions were

"As our performance hopefully showed you, the assailants can quickly become the attackers." Said Finn, wrapping his arm around Rachel's shoulder.

"And while we personally would never hurt our female teammates or any women, we realize that crimes against women are far more common than we realize." said Joe.

"A couple of weeks ago, our team was purposefully attacked, threatened, and injured by someone who wanted to break us down." Quinn said, holding Joe's hand.

"And it was all because of an incident that happened months before that, when one of our own was personally victimized and sexually assaulted." Santana said right after. "While we don't feel it necessary to name names, we did feel that it was our responsibility to address the issue and support her in whatever way we could."

"So we did it the best way we knew how. We did it in song." said Blaine. "We fought back with our gifts and talents. The greatest battles aren't won with fists, but with the power of collective minds."

"And we stood together, from that fateful day until now." Said Tina, looking to her smiling boyfriend next to her. "And we came out stronger than ever."

"We tend to see situations like these in black and white, but in reality, there's a whole lot of gray in the middle." Sugar said, pointing to their shirts. "We become so focused on less important things and forget what really matters, like the lives that are affected and what we can do to help."

"So this one is for every boy and girl that's ever been raped and sexually violated. Anyone who has ever been bullied into submission, forced to do and be who they weren't." said Artie.

"This is for their loved ones, the family and friends that stood by them and supported them, even when they didn't know how to comfort them. Whether you know it or not, you helped them through. You were enough." Said Sam. Mercedes gently squeezed his hand.

"And this one is for the ones without voice, the ones that died fighting for the right to live, to the nameless victims that we will never see on television or hear about on the news. They will never have their story told unless we choose to speak for them. And New Directions has vowed to never stop talking." Said Sugar.

"Right now, small collection plates are being passed around to benefit Lima's rape crisis center and women's shelter, a home for many women who've bravely escaped abusive homes and left all they've known behind…for freedom." Said Rachel, dabbing her eyes.

"Please, give what you can. Every bit helps." Brittany said, smiling to the crowd.

"Because you never know who it will benefit around you. Victims aren't faceless. They look just like the people around you. And survivors aren't impossible exceptions. They aren't big name celebrities or people that live far away from you. They're normal, and struggling and holding themselves together beside you on buses, in churches, or in your very homes." Mercedes looked down and took a breath. "They look like me."

The entire ND crew turned to face her in surprise. They had planned to keep her anonymity. They were shocked that she'd spontaneously made such a confession, in front of such a diverse crowd. This wasn't just lima, this was a crowd of people stemming from all corners of the united states.

All looked surprised except Sam, who silently squeezed his girlfriend's hand back in support. They had spoken about it, and he had voiced his full support. He was so proud of her for telling her truth to the world.

Mercedes nibbled her lip nervously, hesitant to finish her speech. "And….and some of us never quite recover."

_This _shocked Sam. He hadn't anticipated anything else. He looked at her, silently asking for an explanation.

"Some of us become attackers ourselves. Some of us become Donovan McMann."

The crowd gasped and murmured at the specific name. Mercedes knew there would be plenty of talk after competition, but she didn't mind it. It felt right to say.

"This song is for them, too. The victims that don't know where else to go but violence. We understand…and I forgive you."

The lights faded to black, and ND slowly got into position. Each member made a conscious effort to squeeze her shoulder or kiss her cheek as they passed, even Artie, who bumped her fist in passing as a silent sign of forgiveness on his end.

Sam hugged her close and quickly kissed her lips in the dark, smiling against them.

"You did it." He whispered. "And I'm proud of you."

She only had time to briefly hug him back before he fled her arms to run to his place. The spotlight came up on Artie at the far end of the stage, just as the quiet piano began to play the familiar ballad of freedom.

"Bring it in." The entire group started to hum the melody, swaying back and forth as a slow beam of light washed over them. Each note rolled from their bellies, deep and steady as they built higher and higher, washing over the hearts of the crowd like tiny waves of emotion, crashing against the shore at each verse end.

_**(Artie) Hold me**_

_**Like the river Jordan **_

_**And I will then say to thee**_

_**You were my friend.**_

The guys stood in a line behind Artie as he sat on the edge of the stage. Puck scooped him up and walked to Mike, placing Artie carefully in his arms. One by one, they passed him down the line, ending with Sam, who lovingly carried him to his chair in the middle of the floor.

**(Artie) Carry me**

**Like you were my brother**

**Love me like a mother**

**Will you be there?**

Sam slowly wheeled him backwards, settling him in position with the rest of the crew. The guys bumped fists with him and each other, staggering themselves amidst the girls. Each one of the girls offered hugs to the guy next to them, and Mercedes bent down to kiss Artie's cheek, making him smile. They settled, clasping their hands together and swaying as they continued to hum.

_**Mmm, mmhmmmmm, mhmmmmm, mmmmmm…**_

Puck walked on from stage right, pretending to walk in and fumble to his knees. But though he was acting, the emotion in his voice as he sang his verse seemed very real.

_**(Puck) Weary**_

_**Tell me will you hold me? **_

_**When wrong will you scold me? **_

_**When lost will you find me?**_

The group held out their hands, welcoming him. Mike and Joe ran out to him and rested his arms around their necks, carrying his weighted body across the stage. When he arrived, they all welcomed him with open arms, like a prodigal son returning home.

_**(Sam) But they told me**_

_**A man should be faithful **_

_**And walk where not equal **_

_**And fight 'til the end**_

_**But I'm only human**_

Sam stared at Mercedes the entire time, walking to meet her in the middle of the swaying choir. He sang every word to her like an apology for any place he'd fallen short along their journey. Though she couldn't kiss him onstage, Mercedes brought him close and rested her forehead against his, nodding, as if to say she understood. It had been a hard road for him as well, and there were times when she'd forget that he'd hurt for her more deeply than she'd hurt for herself. She understood that pain. Whatever she felt now, it would be ten-fold if she ever had to watch it happen to Sam. And as the group continued to hum, each one of them slowly broke into smiling tears, feeling the lift of heaviness as it happened.

_**Mmm, mmhmmmmm, mhmmmmm, mmmmmm…**_

Quinn, Santana, Tina, and Brittany joined together in harmony, belting the next verse in a powerful array of four-part soprano.

_**(Girls) Everyone taking control of me**_

_**Seems that the world's got a role for me**_

_**I'm so confused will you show it to me?**_

Mercedes stepped forward, running to the edge of the stage to invite everyone to stand and sing.

_**(Mercedes) You'll be there for me**_

_**And care enough to bear me**_

On her queue, the girls from her sister circle came on clapping from either side of the stage, singing along with them. The entire stage brightened with a pale yellow light, like they'd invited the sun in with their rising chorus. It brought even the judges to their feet, as only an MJ song could do. A few audience members staggered to their feet, a bit unsure, but inexplicably drawn in by the infectious melody.

**(All) **_**Hold Me**_

_**_**(Mercedes) Show me!**_**_

**_ Lay Your Head Lowly_**

**__**(Mercedes) Show me!**__**

_** Softly Then Boldly**_

_**(Mercedes) Yeah!**_

_**Carry Me There**_

_**(Mercedes) I'm only human**_

_**Lead Me**_

_**(Mercedes) Hold me!**_

_**Love Me And Feed Me**_

_**(Mercedes) yeah, yeah, yeah!**_

_**Kiss Me And Free Me**_

_**(Mercedes) Yeah! **_

_**I Will Feel Blessed**_

_**(Mercedes) I'm only human!**_

As they hit the second crescendo, more people rose to their feet, a bit surer and more eager to clap along. The voices continued to grow, blending audience with group in one sound.

_**(All) Carry**_

_**(Mercedes) Carry! **_

_**Carry Me Boldly**_

_**(Mercedes) Carry me!**_

_**Lift Me Up Slowly**_

_**(Mercedes) Yeah! **_

_**Carry Me There**_

_**(Mercedes) I'm only human**_

_**Save Me**_

_**(Mercedes) Save me**_

_**Heal Me And Bathe Me**_

_**(Mercedes) Lift me up, lift me up y'all**_

_**Softly You Say To Me**_

_**I Will Be There**_

_**(Mercedes) I will be there, yeah!**_

On the third lift, everyone was to their feet clapping emphatically. Mercedes stared in awe for a moment at the amount of silhouettes standing in the darkened auditorium. She had no idea that there were so many people! And they all knew what happened to her. But there was no shame. They were singing _with _her. It felt like validation.

_**(All) Lift Me**_

_**(Mercedes) Don't leave me!**_

_**Lift Me Up Slowly**_

_**Carry Me Boldly**_

_**(Mercedes) yeah! **_

_**Show Me You Care**_

_**(Mercedes) Will you be there?**_

_**(All) Hold Me**_

_**(Mercedes) Whoo!**_

_**Lay Your Head Lowly**_

_**(Mercedes) I get lonely sometimes**_

_**Softly Then Boldly**_

_**(Mercedes) I get lonely...yeah yeah!**_

_**Carry Me There**_

_**(Mercedes) Will you be there? **_

_**(All) Need Me**_

_**(Mercedes) Whoo!**_

_**Love Me And Feed Me**_

_**(Mercedes) lift me up, hold me up**_

_**Kiss Me And Free Me**_

_**(Mercedes) Lift me up sometimes...up sometimes! **_

_**I Will Feel Blessed**_

_**(Mercedes) Be the-e-e-ere!**_

The stages slowly faded again, first the bright host lights, then the tamer silvery blue ones lighting up the new directions, until it returned to a single spotlight on the corner of the stage. This time, Mercedes was the focus.

Only a bit of light came up behind the rest of the singers, leaving their bodies mostly in shadow. They were nothing but swaying silhouettes, oohing and aahing behind her.

_**(Mercedes)In Our Darkest Hour**__**  
><strong>__**In My Deepest Despair**__**  
><strong>__**Will You Still Care?**__**  
><strong>__**Will You Be There?**_

_**(Tina) In My Trials**_

_**(Mike) And My Tribulations**_

_**(Quinn)Through Our Doubts  
>(Santana) And Frustrations<br>(Puck) In My Violence  
>(Artie) In My Turbulence<br>(Finn) Through My Fear  
>(Rachel) And My Confessions<strong>_

_**(Blaine) In My Anguish And My Pain **__**  
><strong>__**(Kurt) Through My Joy And My Sorrow **__**  
><strong>__**(Brittany) In The Promise Of Another Tomorrow**_

As they spoke each line, a single beam of light came over the choir. Each person held a framed photograph of a victim who'd died from crimes of sexual violence, from the elderly to children as young as a year old. Each time they held up their picture, their silhouette would disappear, and their faces would come into view again under their individual beam. One by one, each shadow became a person. One by one, each victim became more than just an abstract image. They had names and faces now. They'd finally gotten their moment to shine.

_**(Sam) I'll Never Let You Part  
>(Joe) For You're Always<strong>_

_**(Guys) Always**_

_**(Girls) Always**_

_**(All) Always**_

Each new direction crew member took back their places in line, just as the entire stage began to fade to black.

_**(Mercedes) In My Heart**_

They turned around, and the letters on the back of their shirts, in order, read, **NEVER FORGOTTEN **in bold black ink. When the singing stopped and the stage grew still, the crowd went into frenzy, stomping and cheering and crying for encores.

But the New Directions didn't hear a word of it. They were too busy huddling together as they walked offstage, grateful that they'd done something so meaningful together.

They all graduated into adulthood that day.

**O-O**

"Guys, someone just said that the plates have already collected over five thousand dollars, and it's collecting more as we speak!" squealed Rachel. "It's gonna help so many people!"

"And did you hear them out there? They loved us! Couldn't get enough!" Finn gushed.

"And it's all thanks to my girl here. I don't mean this to sound weird, but Mercedes if you hadn't gone through what you did, we would still be stuck up our asses whining about a trophy. You showed us all what was truly important. Thank you for your example." Smiled Santana.

The rest of the group chorused in agreement. Sam pulled her close and proudly kissed her temple, loving the accolades his girl was receiving.

"I couldn't have done it without my sister circle." She replied, grabbing some of her friends' hands. "Or you guys. Your support meant the world. Thank you." She turned to her boyfriend behind her, just as everyone split up to get water and take bathroom breaks before they announced the winners. "And I definitely couldn't have done it without you, babe. You've been such a rock for me."

"I'd do it again." Sam replied, hugging her close. "I'd do it all again for you. God forbid, but I would."

"I know." She said, smiling against his chest. "Thank you. Now come on, I saved us some cream sodas in the freezer upstairs. If we run, we can get them before awarding."

"The ones from that pizza place?" he asked hopefully.

"Yep! I saw how much you loved them, so I bought some for us to celebrate with later. We can actually drink them now." She joked. She pulled him by the hand, but a man with dark hair blocked their way out.

"Excuse me, sir. We'll be back in five, we promise. My boyfriend and I just want to get a drink. May we pass?" The figure turned, revealing the last person on earth Mercedes expected to see.

"Donovan?" she gasped. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Sam instinctively shuffled her behind him. "You better be on your fucking way out because you will not ruin this for us. Not when everything's going so well. Leave!" he barked. "Or I swear on all good and holy, I will kill you where you stand and have absolutely no remorse about it."

Donovan's eyes never left Mercedes. They were peculiarly bright and happy. "You love me." He said quietly.

"Excuse me?!" Sam spat. "The fuck?"

"You love me. You said my name." he said to Mercedes, stepping forward. "I saw it, I saw the whole thing. You forgave me. You love me. I knew you did."

"Donovan, I don't love you. I love Sam. Yes, I forgive you, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna stop fighting in court. And it most certainly does not mean you can pop up to meet me like we're old friends whenever you want to. You are my _attacker_." She emphasized, hoping to drive the point home. "We have nothing. You hurt me. I feel nothing but pity for you."

"But…you said on stage, that…"

"She said she forgave you, jack ass. It's why I call her mercy. She can find it in her heart to do bullshit like that for crap like you that don't deserve it. Hell, I don't even deserve it half the time and she's my woman." Sam angrily explained. "Now, see me? My name means nothing _close_ to merciful. In fact, I think if you look up the name Samuel, it means _he who kicks ass first and asks questions later_, because I don't play that shit." He picked up a stray towel off the chair and threw it in his face. "Now leave before I call security. And wipe up the shit trail you leave behind you on the way out."

Sam pulled Mercedes along, ushering her in front of him. "C'mon Merce, let's go get those sodas."

"Wait, please." Donovan called desperately. They halted at the doorway. "Don't go. It's a matter of life and death."

"Bullshit." Sam grumbled, ready to walk again.

"Donovan, stop your lies and stop your manipulation. You need help. Please leave me alone." Mercedes asked calmly. The cheer of the audience indicated that trophy announcements would start soon. Sam and Mercedes turned toward the curtains, then each other, debating whether or not they still had time.

"Let me help you make up your mind." offered Donovan, sauntering behind them before they could move. Their blood ran cold when they heard the distinct click of a gun behind them.

"_In third place….The Singing Beagles!" _

"Donovan, please don't do this." Mercedes pleaded, shaking.

"I know you're angry, probably pissed at me…..just please don't hurt Mercedes, alright? Let's deal with this like men." Sam begged, holding his hands above his head.

"Men?" Donovan spat in Sam's ear, spinning him around. "Oh, now you want to talk and settle this like men? Last I remember, you kicked my ass and left me in a parking lot without knowing the full story." He pressed the butt of his gun against Sam's temple, making Mercedes gasp. "That's the problem with the lot of you. You leave without finding out the truth and then you make your own and it's suddenly law. Isn't that what you do? Make up what you _think _happened?"

"Donovan, please don't shoot Sam." Mercedes begged.

"Mercedes, shut up. Don't get involved." Sam warned, more concerned for her than himself. "Let us handle this."

"Sam, I won't watch you die. _We're _handling it." She cried, steeling her jaw. "You shut up, damnit."

"EVERYBODY SHUT THE HELL UP!" Donovan clicked the safety off of his gun.

"_In second place…The Habaneros!" _

"I was just playing around before, but now I'm fucking serious as hell." Sam watched Donovan replace an empty cartridge with another, filled with at least three bullets, from the corner of his eye. "Mercedes, darling?" She slowly turned when he addressed her, facing him as he aimed the gun at her boyfriend's head. "Remember when you asked me what I wanted and I told you I wanted your life?"

Mercedes nodded, trembling too hard to say or do anything else.

"Well, darling, I came to collect my debt. But I don't _literally _want your life." He leaned in close to Sam's ear, whispering, "It would be much more fun to watch you when I take his. Something about the rush of death just gets me in the mood, y'know?"

"God…no…." she pleaded, hoarse from fear.

"Who knows, maybe you can take care of that for me later." He said to her. "You've got about ten seconds to talk to your little boyfriend. I suggest you choose your words wisely.

"_And holding the prize for first place…The New Directions!" _

Donovan smiled and tapped his gun against Sam's skull. "Seems like the timer just started, darling. Tick tock."

**O-O**

_**Hope you enjoyed! And don't forget to review. I love your words. **_


	25. Chapter 24 Hope (2 of 2)

**A/N: Just thanking Jill, as always for her awesome beta work. Trigger warning: mentions of incest, abuse, sexual assault of a minor, and violence in various degrees of detail. Nothing overly graphic, but you have been warned.**

**Enjoy!**

**O-O**

"_Mercedes, darling?" She slowly turned when he addressed her, facing him as he aimed the gun at her boyfriend's head. "Remember when you asked me what I wanted and I told you I wanted your life?"_

_Mercedes nodded, trembling too hard to say or do anything else._

"_Well, darling, I came to collect my debt. But I don't literally want your life." He leaned in close to Sam's ear, whispering, "It would be much more fun to watch you when I take his. Something about the rush of death just gets me in the mood, y'know?"_

"_God…no…." she pleaded, hoarse from fear._

"_Who knows, maybe you can take care of that for me later." He said to her. "You've got about ten seconds to talk to your little boyfriend. I suggest you choose your words wisely._

"_And holding the prize for first place…The New Directions!"_

_Donovan smiled and tapped his gun against Sam's skull. "Seems like the timer just started, darling. Tick tock."_

_**Five minutes to present: In the lobby**_

"I call dibs on the bathroom!"

"Not if I get there first!"

Finn and Puck raced down the hallway, pushing between Tina, Santana, and Quinn in their attempts to beat each other to the restroom.

"Guys, it's a public restroom. There are plenty of stalls!" Quinn cried out, shaking her head at their childish shoving near the doorway. Finn beat Puck by sheer girth, shoving his massive frame in and pushing Puck to the side in the process. "Boys, I swear."

"Honestly, they never even have to wait in line. Try holding your bladder for an hour after four slurpees at a crowded baseball game with one working toilet in the whole arena, and _then _talk to me about pain!" Tina exclaimed.

"Chang, you're talking to a giant who cried when he got a 'serious splinter' and a mowhawked macho diablo that moaned and groaned for a week because of a little sniffling cold. Men don't know shit about pain." sassed Santana, after stopping in front of the women's restroom door. "I'm gonna go touch up really quick. Come with?"

Tina and Quinn nodded, following her inside. They each took a spot in front of a sink near the mirror and pulled out small containers of shine powder, hidden in the breast pocket of their costumes. They powdered their noses and cheeks as they spoke.

"So, performance was crazy, huh?" Santana said, dusting her chin. "Who knew chica was gonna pull that stunt in the end. That surprised the hell outta me."

"I'm not surprised. Mercedes is like that." replied Quinn, wiping stray mascara from the corner of her eye. "She's all about forgiveness. I don't know if I could have done it in her situation personally, but I'm proud of her for doing it. God knows the asshole doesn't deserve it, but if it settles things for her, then…"

"Hey, did anybody else notice that Eva and Mercedes look awfully similar?" Tina interjected, finishing her forehead and capping her makeup.

"What, because they're both black? I expected more racial sensitivity from you, Asian persuasion." Santana deadpanned, capping her makeup as well. Quinn did the same. "Especially since half the school is still convinced that you're dating your brother."

"No, I don't mean exactly alike." Tina explained, "But, I was doing my usual research on child psychology and delved into child rapists. Aside from troubled childhoods, another commonality is the victims they choose. They usually pick based on some negative trigger or haunting memory from their past."

"Your point?" asked Quinn, still lost.

"All of his other victims were white, tall, and mostly blonde or dirty blonde. I figure, maybe it's a relative or something that hurt him. But, Mercedes and Eva are short, African American, with very dark hair. Two totally different M.O.s."

"I'm with Quinn. Your point?" Santana frowned.

"And, they were his very first and very last victims! Think about it. Donovan could have moved on, kept on the hunt for a new girl, like his history suggests. Instead, what does he do? He pursues Mercedes. He makes all of these grandiose displays in front of people, like they were exes instead of rapist and victim. It's like he has something to prove." Tina said, squinting as she racked her brain for answers.

"You know, I spoke to some of the other girls about their experiences. They all told me that he was….._finished _with them," Quinn grimaced at the word, "within a couple of minutes. After that, he tossed them to the side and never bothered with them again. Even some of the girls who go to McKinley and saw him said that he would look the other way and walk past them."

"Mercedes was the first one to fight back. Maybe that's why?" Santana reasoned.

"None of the girls I've spoken to mentioned Donovan pulling out a weapon on them like he did to Mercedes. Did any of the girls say anything about knives to you, Quinn?" asked Tina.

Quinn shook her head. "No mention of weapons at all. And I've spoken to almost all of them, except Eva."

"I haven't spoken to Eva, either." Tina's brow furrowed. "In fact, I don't think anyone knows her story. She doesn't say much."

"Well, she was very young. Maybe it's harder for her." offered Quinn, sucking her teeth in pity. "Poor baby."

"She spoke to Mercedes." Quinn and Tina looked to Santana, expectantly. "She told her that Donovan killed her brother. She told me before the show, when I asked her where she went before costumes. I think he died in that fire that Donovan set to kill his dad. At least, that's how the story in the papers went."

"Well, that's unusual. He killed her brother then raped her? Did he have something against the family or something?" Tina wondered aloud.

"His name sounded familiar, too. I think I heard him mentioned somewhere, but I can't remember. Maybe it was from the Lima equivalent of one of those rag magazines. You know the kind, the ones that make up those outrageous stories about celebrity felons." Santana explained. "It was a D name…..Darrell or Devin or…."

"Derrick?!"

"Yeah!" Santana eyed Tina curiously. "Did you read about him, too?"

"No! McMann mentioned a Derrick in the press conference by accident, remember?"

"Oh yeah, when he thought he was off mike," Quinn recalled. "Do you think Eva's Derrick and McMann's Derrick are one in the same? That the story is true?"

"I don't know," Tina answered skeptically. "All I know is something doesn't quite add up, and it all seems to lead back to his first rape, his first victim and the day of that alleged fire."

"Ohhh, _alleged._ Fancy words." teased Santana. "What you thinkin', Sherlock Chang?"

"The sooner that mystery is solved, the sooner we can figure out how Mercedes fell under his radar. That's what I think." Tina said surely, tipping her imaginary detective hat to Santana with a smile. "He didn't treat her like the others."

"Maybe he's pissed because guppy lips ran in and showed him up by kicking his sorry ass. He didn't get the chance to finish. And truthfully, all of this has made Sam look way more attractive to me." Santana confessed, as they washed the traces of makeup from their hands. "He's busting balls, not giving a shit about consequences, muscling up and taking names, defending his woman's honor…..I'd go straight for this Sam. He's like, Trouty Mouth 2.0."

"Down, Girl. " Quinn laughed. "I think he only has eyes for one woman, and she's guaranteed hetero."

Tina hushed them both. "Shh, listen." Their ears perked in the silence. "Do you hear that?"

The all caught the faint sound of applause, followed by a garbled voice on the microphone, saying something they couldn't quite make out.

"Are they calling awards already? Shit!" Quinn exclaimed. All three girls ran out of the bathroom, halting as the rest of new directions sped past them in the hallway.

"Hurry, guys! They called us! We heard it from our rooms. We won!" Rachel squealed, nearly tripping backwards as she stumbled over her feet. The trio followed close behind the herd, cheering and screaming for their victory.

**O-O**

_**Five minutes to present, Backstage.**_

"I probably should have told everyone to stay close. I think they're gonna start awarding earlier this year, since they had to split the competition between two days." Mr. Schue thought aloud, checking his watch and peeking through the curtain. Bee stood beside him, doing the same. The awards were already onstage, but the judges still appeared to be deliberating.

"Hold off. They don't look like they're anywhere close to being ready," she told him, giggling softly when one of the judges grew impassioned and tossed all of the voting cards in the air and stomped away from the table. "They should have time to drink and freshen up."

They both moved away from the curtains and walked over to sit near the stage exit door.

"I've got to say, the entire performance was completely inspired. A couple of my girls were moved to tears after it was all over. I had to send them out to collect themselves so they wouldn't make too much noise backstage," Bee told him with a smile. "I don't want us to be banned from coming in the future!"

"Oh, most definitely not! In fact, I think some of the stage hands got a little emotional, too. I saw them all clear out after the performance. What an impact, huh?" Will smiled.

"Well, that explains the lack of a crowd," Bee joked, looking around the empty backstage area. "There's only two or three people left who managed to keep working. You really cleared the house."

"Excuse me, Sir." Will called to the stage hand dressed in black beside him, coming down from the fly loft ladder. "Where is everyone?"

"Break." The man answered, keeping his back to them as he fiddled with the fuse box in the corner.

"At the same time? Well, that's unusual." Bee frowned. "I guess the rumors are true about New York work etiquette. Would you happen to know when the awarding is scheduled to start?"

"Soon," he replied, his tone short and terse.

Bee was about to give him a piece of her mind about his poor manners when the heavy buzz of a phone vibrated between them. Both patted their pockets and found their phones. The buzz vibrated a second time, lighter and softer from Will's hand.

"One of the kids? Is everything alright?" Bee asked.

"No, it's an alert from the valet parking downstairs. They have this new thing where you can scan the barcode of your parking space ticket into your smartphone and get alerts about your vehicle. Puck and Artie showed me how to work it. You can never be too safe in big cities, and Figgins would kill me if something happened to the rentals. I had to kiss his rear end more than usual to get them in the first place," Will chuckled, sliding his finger to unlock his phone.

He gasped and jumped from his seat, frightening Bee. "Shit!"

"What? What is it?!" What happened?"

"The buses! They're towing them! I knew I should have sprung the extra twenty for priority parking. I thought I put the cards on the windshield. I swore I did!" Will panicked, flinging the backstage exit door open in his haste.

"Do you need me to come with you?" Bee offered. "These tow companies can be jerks sometimes. I could use my psychology jedi mind tricks on them for you….or flash a little leg."

"No need, but thank you." Will replied, chuckling despite the stress of the moment. "Just stay in case the kids come back and look for us. I should have this cleared up shortly." He ran out the door, heading left toward the elevators.

Bee watched him leave and sighed, praying silently that they'd still have a ride home. The man in the corner slammed the fuse box closed, catching her attention and reminding her of her previous upset.

"You know, I would appreciate being spoken to like a human being. And a little eye contact wouldn't hurt. Didn't your mother teach you manners?" she asked, annoyed. Her tone turned professional. "Or maybe your mother wasn't around to teach you?"

The dark haired figure swiveled around. His face was still cast in shadow. Without a word, he pushed the on button on his headset, listening to the voice on the other side give him a message. Bee couldn't clearly hear from where she was and grew more annoyed at being interrupted a second time.

Before she could speak, he beat her to it with an apology.

"My apologies for earlier," he told her. "Awarding starts in two minutes."

"Shoot, and the kids aren't back yet." She glanced between the stage door and the curtains, debating whether or not she should stay and wait for them or take the initiative and look for them herself.

"I will be right back," she told him, walking out the door. "If you see kids from our group return, please tell them to stay put." Her eyes caught sight of Sam and Mercedes, standing and talking in the middle of the floor. "They're wearing costumes just like those two. If they try to step out again, please keep them inside. I don't want to lose anyone else before awarding."

He watched her run off and closed the door behind her, taking the small key on a string to lock the push tab. With a quick push test, he knew the door wouldn't open from the outside.

"With pleasure, Ms. Potter," he said to himself, wearing his signature grin. "That was exactly my intention."

**O-O**

"I'm incredibly sorry, sir. I don't know where the mix up happened. Apparently, your green parking cards were replaced with yellow cards. We used the yellow on all of yesterday's vehicles. We thought you fell under our radar and parked here overnight without paying. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

"Well, thank god for good old fashioned parking stubs, huh?" Will joked with the tow driver, waving his proof of payment in the air. "I'm telling you, technology may come and go, but for stuff like this, you always need paper as a backup."

"How true." The driver gave a hearty laugh. "Well, I'm glad we got that all cleared up. I thought I was gonna have to fire one of my boys for missing two bright yellow school buses on their rounds. I was saying to myself, now how in the hell did they miss _those _eyesores? I'm glad we got that straightened out."

"Me too," Will replied, reaching out to shake his hand.

"Oh!" The burly man wiped his oil-slicked palms on his overalls, rubbing them dry before reaching back and accepting the gesture. The germophobe in Will wanted to squirm and vomit, but he forced a smile instead, grateful that fate worked in his favor.

Both looked toward the ceiling after they shook, hearing the sudden applause above them. Frightened, Will looked at his watch.

"I knew it! They're starting early this year. I need to go get my kids!" Will ran off to the elevators with a parting wave. "Thanks for all of your help, Bill!"

"No problem, Will! Good luck to your group!" Bill yelled back, waving until the elevator doors closed. With a stretch and groan, Bill straightened his baseball cap and returned to the break room in the corner.

"I heard the clapping start upstairs. Aren't you supposed to go back to work the stage?" He asked the stage manager in front of him, taking his seat and grabbing his hand of cards.

"They can hold it down for five more minutes or so without me. I gave my headset to one of the new kids hanging around. All he has to do is call everyone to their posts once the applause starts. They all know what to do once they reach their posts. Besides, you're just saying that 'cause you know I'm whipping your ass like _I always do _and you don't want to pay up. Draw, you slick bastard!" he laughed, pushing the deck of cards toward him so he could pull. "I feel lucky."

**O-O**

Bee searched all over the foyer shops and coffee place, but the kids were nowhere to be found.

"Where could they be?" She said aloud. They were already cutting it close. She'd heard the faint boom of the announcer's voice echo in the halls. She looked and looked, then sighed in relief when they came running down the grand staircase, rushing in her direction.

"Oh thank goodness, _there _you guys are! I was getting worried," she said.

"No time, Ms. Bee!" Rachel grabbed her arm and dragged her along with the running crowd. "They called us! We won!"

Excitedly, they all fell over each other at the stage door, but when Sugar pushed, the door wouldn't budge.

"Hello? Please let us in!" Finn knocked hard, calling loudly. "Is anyone in there? We're the New Directions! It's our trophy!"

On the word trophy, everyone reached out and knocked with all of their might, crying out and hoping that someone would hear them over the applause and loud sound system.

"The New Directions!" The announcer called again, just as they settled down.

"Guys, let's try the stage door on the other side. Maybe that one is still unlocked!" All smiled at Brittany's unusually brilliant thinking, running behind her to the other side of the stage.

**O-O**

_**Present, Backstage**_

"The New Directions!" The announcer called again, just as Donovan's finger flexed around the trigger.

"Any last words?" he growled. "I'll give you that much."

Sam quirked a solemn half smile, looking into the eyes of his tearful love. "Out of all the theatres in all the cities in all the world, you had to walk into mine?" he said in his best Bogart voice.

"Sam, now is not the time for impressions," she said in her anguish.

His smile fell, letting his honest fear show. "I know. I just wanted to see you smile one more time before I die."

She shook her head, crying harder, fighting with all her might to deny the truth of the moment.

"Ten… nine…eight…." He pushed the gun further into Sam's temple. Sam groaned from the force of the steel digging into his skin.

"No!" Mercedes grabbed his shirt. "What do you want, Donovan? What? I'll give you anything. You want me? I'll give you me." She bargained.

"Mercedes, no. Don't do that," Sam said to her.

Donovan looked between them with a sickened expression, wrapping his arm around Sam's neck to keep his head steady. "Seven…six…five…"

"I can't watch you die, Sam. I won't," she sobbed, lips quivering as she watched Donovan's knuckle turn white around the handle of the gun. She was running out of time.

"Mercedes, you can't give yourself up to this creep, not for me or anyone else, understand? You are worth more than anything. You're worth more than me." he declared. "Just close your eyes. Don't watch."

"Don't you dare be brave, Sam Evans. Don't you dare be fucking brave right now!" she cried. "If I close my eyes, you'll be gone forever. I won't do it."

"Four…Three…" Sam's breath hitched when Donovan tightened his hold. He started to grow warm and slightly dizzy, and his throat and cheeks turned crimson from the strain.

Mercedes' s breathing quickened. "I don't know what else to do, Sam! What do I do? If I leave, he'll shoot you. If I stay, he'll shoot you. What do I do, baby?"

"R..Run…" he choked out, struggling for air and squirming in Donovan's arms. Donovan only tightened his grip even more, smiling madly.

"Two…" The jostling click of the door behind Mercedes caught their attention.

"See, I told you this side would work!" Brittany exclaimed, holding the door open for the rest of them to enter. Rachel let go of Bee's arm and rushed through the group, pressing the automated button on the wall to open the curtains.

"C'mon, let's go before Mr. Schue…" Her smile fell when she saw everyone freeze in place and lift their hands. She followed their gaze and slowly lifted her own, seeing the gun pointed in her direction.

"…kills us," she finished weakly, just as the lights on the stage lit them fully and the audience applauded their appearance. It only took a moment for their cheers to turn to panicked screams when they saw Donovan holding the gun, and cries of 'Code Silver! Code Silver!' from the guards in the aisles were heard above the chaos of running feet. A shot in the air quieted everyone, freezing them in place. Security stood with their hands on their holsters, gripping the nightsticks that they wished were guns as they waited for Donovan's move. The audience members that did not escape in time hid behind their chairs, peeking over the backs of seats.

"Oh, wonderful, an audience." Donovan said sarcastically, cooling the smoking barrel with a hard blow of breath. "I've always wondered what fame felt like."

**O-O**

"Over 5,000 attendants, family members, and young performers are being held hostage behind these walls, a New York city theatre meant to house the bright potential of young stars and test their talents in healthy competition. But what started out as innocent fun turned into a deadly nightmare when a young man disguised as a stage hand, one Donovan McMann, opened fire in the intimate arena. None were reported injured, and those who managed to escape are standing nearby with police, giving their own shaky accounts of what's going on inside. "

The news camera panned to an older gentleman sitting on a green park bench, wearing a worn page boy cap and troubled brown eyes. "Sir? Could you give us some insight on what happened inside?"

His face grew even more grim and set when the microphone came near his lips. "I can't tell you all I saw, but I can tell you what I know. That boy's got some war eyes on him. It's the look that Viet soldier had when he shot my buddy Jimmy in cold blood back in '56. Jimmy didn't want to enlist because he'd just had a kid, but he was the kind of guy that put duty and love in the same boat, y'know? And he loved him some America. Would do anything for her." he chuckled , then frowned. "We never saw him coming."

"Do you think they'll make it out alive? Are you hoping that the shooter gets just punishment for his actions?" The reporter asked, hoping to redirect the interview.

"What do you mean, kill him? Heavens no! He didn't shoot anybody." he answered, appalled by the suggestion. "He's just a boy!"

"But, aren't you concerned that he might? He's already holding one hostage at gunpoint. Aren't you worried about the innocent lives at stake?"

"Look, if war time has taught me anything, it's that there's a whole lotta gray where we think the black and white should be. It all bleeds together. We all bleed together. You don't think that the soldier who shot my friend thought he was serving a righteous cause? He couldn't have killed him if he didn't. I know, I've killed men. You've got to justify it in your mind somehow. He was doing what he thought was best to defend himself and his country. I can't fault him for his logic, even if I think it's flawed."

"Would your view of the shooter change at all if I told you that he is a known sex offender and murderer, and the hostage he's holding has been identified as the significant other of one of his victims?"

The man's bushed gray brows furrowed. "Is that right? You certain?"

"Eye witnesses familiar with the identity of the assailant have confirmed it," the reporter said confidently, hoping the information would get a rise out of him.

He disappointed them with a non-committal shrug and dismissive wave of his hand. "I feel even more sorry for him, then."

"What do you mean? What about the war eyes? I thought you said the shooter had war eyes? Why do you feel sorry for him?"

"The shooter's not the one with the eyes, it's the _blonde_ one," he said matter of factly.

"The hostage, sir?"

"Yes! That's who I've been talking about, isn't it? What are ya, deaf?" He sassed, revealing a bit of his Brooklyn accent. "Look, all I know is, that boy looks ready to tear him limb from limb if he even makes a move to touch that girl. He was in a headlock, barrel to his head….you could taste death in the room….and the first thing he did was push her out of the way when the shot rang out. He could've caught one himself with that move alone, hands down. And now, you tell me that they're dating and the other guy forced himself on his girl? I'd be more worried about the shooter."

"Why is that, sir?"

The older gentleman briefly looked to the camera, as if he'd just realized his every word was being filmed. "Because Jimmy walked up to that troublemaker and offered up his chest to that Viet soldier. "It's either me or freedom," he said, 'And I won't let you touch freedom, so take your aim.' That girl is that boy's freedom, and if he has the heart that I think he does, then someone's leaving that place with a hole in 'em, and it won't be the one near the butt of that gun."

**O-O**

"Wanna know the one thing I've learned about women, Evans?" Donovan asked lowly in Sam's ear. "The one thing that they all have in common? They're crafty. You think you know them, but then they switch on you. But, the faulty thing about the shifty, delicate creatures is that they don't think it all through. They rely too much on emotion; wear their hearts on their sleeves."

Sam struggled, but Donovan gripped him tighter, keeping his aim steady on the New Directions. "Now see, men on the other hand—_Real _men…" His hold tightened even more. "We keep our shit in neat little boxes and bottled up inside. We bury and hide our shit until it bursts inside of us. We rather die from hidden secrets than have anyone find out. We never tell. You know why? We're takers, Sam. Hunters. When we want something, we grab it before anyone else can. Now, see that woman in front of you?" He pointed out Mercedes with his pistol. Sam scratched and struggled harder, fearing he'd pull the trigger. "She's _mine._ Everything on her is mine. When I saw her on that stage, singing and swinging …_touching_." He smirked, winking in her direction. "I knew I had to have her. And you know what? I know she wants me back. She says she doesn't, but I see it. She wants me. But, for some reason, my little kitten swears up and down that she's in love with you. Isn't that silly?"

"She loves me and I love her." Donovan whacked Sam across the forehead with his gun. Mercedes gasped and cried out at the audible crack on impact.

"Please, Donovan! Please don't kill him! I do love him, I swear!" She insisted, following the thin trail of blood flowing down her love's pale cheek with her eyes. "Please, don't do this to me."

"You love ME, Mercedes!" Donovan screamed. "You followed ME when I came to you. You came with ME to the back of my truck. I didn't force you! You weren't like those other ditzy slut bitches I had on the side. I would've made love to you! Didn't I touch you nice and soft? I would have cherished you and you would have seen that I was worth your time if you would've JUST GIVEN ME THE CHANCE!"

Everyone froze, stunned and watching his every move. Police quietly entered the scene during the code calll, parking themselves around every corner of the auditorium shortly after the code call. Two officers managed to sneak near the stage unannounced. Bee, with her observant eagle eye, had spotted them walking toward the side entrance and tried her best to discreetly discourage them. Because of their angle, the only way to have a clear target on Donovan without hurting Sam or alerting him of their presence was the stage door behind him. But, it was still locked.

The younger officer caught her silent message and halted the older. Instead, they hid near the stage exit closest to the audience, hoping Donovan would slip up and give them a clearer shot.

"Why won't you admit that you love me back?" he shouted. "Why won't you stop fighting what we have and give me a chance? Because of _him?!_" Donovan put pressure on the trigger. "We can take care of that…"

"NO! Please!" Mercedes ran and clung to Sam before anyone could stop her. "If you kill him, you kill me. And I know you don't want to kill me."

"Mercedes, get off! This is not how it's gonna go!" Sam fought to push her away, but her grip was strong. He'd grown weaker from the blow to his head and the struggle with Donovan.

"Don't you dare, Sam. Don't you dare be brave and fucking noble right now." She growled, meeting him eye to eye. "Don't you dare ask me to leave you to die."

"He doesn't even love you!" Donovan angrily screamed. "He's pushing you away and you still want him? Let him go! Get off!"

"NO!" she cried, with all of her might. "NO! I'm not letting go! I'm never letting go!" Sam stopped struggling, drifting in and out of consciousness, and allowed Mercedes to loosen her hold enough to gently kiss his lips. "I'm not leaving this time. I've left you behind so many times before. _I promise _this time, Sam. This time I'm gonna hold on for us, okay? Let me hold on for us this time, baby."

"No…." Sam panted, eyelids drooping. "I won't…..I can't…. Don't let him…." He tried to form words, but his mouth grew dry from the effort and his face felt numb all over. He was red-faced from the rush of blood. Sam's eyes began to cross, and his legs nearly gave, save for Mercedes's knees pressing against his own. She pushed his knees straight and kept him upright, holding on to his loose body. Her support was the only think keeping him on his feet.

"I won't do this without you. Don't you understand?" she whispered to him. "Just because I can, doesn't mean I will. We're not going anywhere unless we're together, alright? I refuse."

"Run," he pleaded in a strangled whisper.

"No," she replied, just as distressed. The tears rolled down her cheeks, unbidden. "No, Sam."

**O-O**

During the entire exchange, Bee managed to inconspicuously drop her school counselor ID to the ground and slide it across the stage with her foot. The younger cop slowly walked toward the curtain and retrieved it, bringing it to his boss for review. The list of her many degrees and accreditations convinced the elder cop to signal his comrades to hold fire, at least until she could make an attempt to talk him down.

"Donovan? My name is Dr. Beatrice Potter. I'm a counselor and I'd like to help you," she said gently, taking a small step forward.

Donovan frantically backed away, dragging Sam's body with him as he pointed the gun in her direction. "Who the hell are you?! I don't need your help!" he said angrily.

"My name is Dr. Beatrice Potter, and I'm a counselor," she repeated, in the same disarming tone. "My focus is child and adolescent mental health, and what I'm hearing from you is that you've been hurt, possibly by a lot of people close to you. I'm here to listen if you want to talk."

Donovan's laugh rolled out of him, loud and strong from his belly. "You want to help? Now, all of a sudden, since I'm holding a gun, people want to help? Where the hell were you my whole life, hmm? Why do adults wait until shit hits the fan to care about me? That's all you guys want, a fucking criminal! A demon child! Well, forgive me _counselor, _but you and all of your therapy are about eighteen gotdamn years too late." He snarled, pointing his gun back at Sam's droopy head. "I'm doing this my way."

"I have to warn you, Donovan," she said quickly, halting him before he pulled the trigger. "Right now, there are at least a dozen police cars parked outside of the theatre, waiting to take you in."

Donovan seemed unfazed by the news, and Bee knew she had to act quickly when his eyes began to glaze over and lose focus. He was disassociating, preparing his mind for the kill.

"Donovan!" He looked up, wide eyed and startled. "There are police officers all over this auditorium with guns aimed in your direction. If you don't stop and talk to me, they will take their shot before you can take yours and you won't get a second chance to do it over. You'll be_dead._" she said. "Either you let me help you or you leave here in a body bag, before you get the chance to kill Sam."

Donovan looked around and noticed, for the first time, the amount of cops littering the room. There were at least twenty to thirty guns aimed in his direction, and they were all armed with itchy, eager, trained fingers resting on the triggers.

Everyone caught the moment it all registered in Donovan's mind. His face went from angry and hard to fearful in a matter of seconds, near childlike in its honesty. Sam's breaths grew shorter, and Mercedes couldn't stop her body from trembling from the stress of it all.

"The choice is yours, Donovan," Bee said quietly, slowly stepping closer to meet his eyes. "Please talk to me. I can help you."

His eyes welled with tears as he looked at all of the fearful faces staring back at him. How had it all gotten here?

"It's too late. You can't help me. Nobody can help me. I'm hopeless. I'm trouble and bad and I always will be," he said in a small voice, repeating the last line like a mantra. Bee picked up on it right away.

"Who told you that, Donovan? Who told you that you were bad, honey?" she asked sweetly.

"Daddy." His voice lost the confident timbre. He'd regressed to a prepubescent version of himself in front of everyone. Somehow, with few words, Bee caught the little boy in the midst of all the rage. Everyone remained deadly silent, listening on.

"When did daddy tell you this, Donovan?" she asked him.

"Since I can remember." he answered. "I did everything right. I was a good boy. I tried so hard to be a good boy. But it wasn't enough. Daddy tried to make me good, but I could never learn."

"And what did daddy do to make you learn, Donovan?"

"He'd hit me," he answered, confirming her silent suspicions. Donovan's mind had left the present moment, travelling back to a time that few knew of, that no one fully understood. "He'd beat me until I was bleeding. My skin hurt so bad. It would never heal right. With his belt or a tire iron…he'd write in my arms with his knife." His eyes were far off as he reached around Sam's neck and rolled up his left sleeve. Sure enough, there were small, keloid scars all over his arms, spelling out tiny messages of _Good._ His adult fingers unconsciously ran over the scars, mouthing the word over and over silently as he passed each scar. "I tried to be a good boy, I swear. I didn't want no more cuts. No more cuts, daddy." he said.

"I'm sure you did, honey. I bet you were the best little boy a parent could hope for."

His pale blue gaze met hers, and he gave her a tearful, pained smile. Mercedes gasped softly, realizing how much of the little boy from the picture stood in front of her. "Mama thought so. She said I was the best. Mama loved me. When she was sick, I did everything for her, you know? I stole soup from the store so she could get better. You're supposed to eat soup to get better, right? Daddy wouldn't let us have the money because we weren't allowed, but I still got her soup. I made sure she got better. Isn't that good?"

Bee nodded. "That's wonderful. And so responsible! I bet you were her pride and joy." Bee tried to reach for the gun, but Donovan caught the movement and jumped back, returning to present and protecting himself in his anger.

"Don't trick me! I know you're trying to trick me!" he yelled, eyes darting around like a madman's.

"No, Donovan. I'm not trying to trick you at all. Sam's hurting and you need to let him go. He doesn't deserve to be in this position. He's good, just like you. He needs to go to the hospital." she replied, stepping out of his personal space.

Donovan held him possessively, gripping his limp neck like a toddler would his teddy bear. "If you take him, everybody will leave and they'll forget about me. I won't have anybody. Everybody always leaves!" he cried out. "I can be good! If you stay, I can prove it. I can show you! Ana knew! Mama knew!"

"What happened to mama?" Bee asked, following her suspicions. "How did mama leave?"

"Daddy took her away. That's what he always does. As soon as someone loves me more than him, he takes them away!" he yelled. "She didn't want to leave. She cried out for me! For _me! _I heard her! She said my name, but he just kept hitting her and choking her. And then….it was quiet. She stopped moving. She would always get quiet after... and even though she couldn't talk to me for a while, I liked the quiet better than the screaming. The screaming made me so angry inside. When it was quiet, she would relax, then wake up and hug me."

"But she didn't wake up then, did she?" asked Bee. "She died."

The tears flowed down his cheeks. "I shook her and shook her, but she wouldn't open her eyes. I tried a bucket of cold water like I always did. Sometimes, when she was in deep, the water would work. But she didn't even flinch, not even after three buckets." Donovan heaved a sob, angrily wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his armed hand. "I took off her dressings and pressed on the places where daddy would burn her with the iron. Sometimes that would work, too. She felt so cold. Her legs were heavy and she looked really pale, like all the life color was stolen from her. I wrapped her up and buried her when she died."

"That's a hard thing for any boy to go through," Bee said sympathetically.

"I was five then." he answered. "I had to drag her to the backyard and dig a grave. Ana helped me put her down. We sang over her, like they do at real funerals. We didn't have a minister or a fancy casket, but we wanted to make sure she went out with love. Everyone deserves to go out with love when they die."

"And I bet...a little bit of you died with her that day, didn't it?"

Donovan nodded. "But Ana was still there. She took care of us when mama died. She loved us."

"Us?" Bee asked. "Was there someone else besides you and Ana?"

"Erin." Tina blurted out, putting the pieces together. Donovan swung the gun in her direction, but she hardly flinched. She was too caught up in the mystery solving of it all. "You protected Erin and Ana protected you. Then she left too, didn't she? You were all alone again."

"Ana did NOT leave me!" Bee stepped in front of Tina, scooting her behind when he started waving the gun around. "She loved me! We were in love! She loved me!"

"In love?" Tina whispered, confused. Bee halted her from saying anything more, following her hunch.

"What did you and Ana share, Donovan?" Bee asked. "And how old were you two?"

"I was seven and she was fifteen." He grew defensive when he saw her frown. "You don't understand. Daddy wouldn't touch her right. He didn't love her. He would hurt her and do dirty things that she didn't want to do. I was young, but I understood. I would go in after and...we would touch. It was nice. It didn't hurt either of us when we touched. It felt...it was like...when she kissed me, all of the broken pieces came together. She was my light. She healed me and I healed her. It wasn't dirty...I know what you're thinking, but it was okay because I was her brother and we loved each other the most. You understand now? It's okay if it doesn't hurt."

Every face, every eye on that stage pitied him in their disgust. All except Sam and Mercedes, who were too focused on each other's well-being.

"Don't look at me like that!" His trembling grip tightened around the gun, sending them all into another fit of panic. Another shot rang through the air, silencing the murmurs. Bee held up her hand to maintain the police hold on firing. "Don't you dare judge us and what we had! You have no idea what it was like growing up in that house. It was hell! Mama and Ana and Erin were the only good things I had and they were taken away."

"Where did Ana go?" Bee asked. Donovan fell silent. "Where is she, dear? Did she...is she with your mother?"

"You can say dead, I'm not stupid," he spat. "And no, she's not dead. She went on to live her dreams without me. I don't want to talk about Ana."

"Well, can we talk about Erin, then? What happened to her?" asked Bee. Donovan frowned, as if something suddenly occurred to him.

"How _did _you know about Erin?" Donovan asked suspiciously. He kicked the back of Sam's knees to prompt him to walk toward the group. The grip around his neck had loosened, but Sam still felt very lightheaded and unsteady on his feet. Still, he hobbled on, as far away from Mercedes as Donovan would allow.

"W-who?" asked a shaken Sugar, the second in the group to speak. Tina stepped forward.

"Me," she answered, boldly staring him down as she walked toward him. "And I knew because I know about the fire that killed your dad. I've figured out why you started it."

"How...did...you..._hear..._about ..._ERIN_?" He demanded, pointing the gun toward the center of her forehead. Mike jumped forward, tugging her arm. The officers close by re-armed their guns, preparing for anything.

"C'mon, T. Don't do this. Now is really not the time to test out your psychology skills," he discouraged quietly.

"He hurt her, didn't he? Your father hurt Erin. And you were there and saw the whole thing. She was the last good thing you had that he didn't ruin, and you tried with all of your might to protect her, but he still got to her," Tina said calmly, gently easing out of Mike's grasp. "He did to her what he did to Ana."

Donovan's lips trembled and he fell to his knees, letting go of Sam in the process. Mike, Finn, Puck and Mercedes reached out to catch him and carried him off to the side to sit and rest. Donovan sobbed on the floor, and the gun fell slack in his hands, shimmering in the streaks of tears sliding down the barrel.

"I tried so hard," he wept. "So, so hard to keep her away from him. If I ever had to leave, I would lock her away in the basement. It was our safe place. I told her to stay there until I came back. I should have stayed. I…" He doubled over, bawling. "I should have stayed with her. He killed the baby. She was all I had left. He took the baby."

"What happened?" Tina asked gently, before Bee had the chance.

The story flowed out of him without filter. "I c-came h-home af-after meeting with the boys. It was af-after we fought. He hit me with the pipe from the sink in the broken bathroom downstairs. I was out for a whole week. Erin was alone for a whole week, without me there to protect her. When I woke up, she was alright, but I knew that there would be a time when he would get to her. What if he killed me? Took me away from her so he could do what he wanted? I locked her away again, nice and tight, and went out to get help. But help never came. I had to do something to get him first, before he got to us."

"So you came back and killed him," Tina finished.

"No!" Donovan stood, addressing her more calmly. "No. That's not what happened."

"Then what happened, dear?" asked Bee.

"When I came back, I'd decided to run away with Erin. We could live on the streets or run to a police station or something. Anything would have been better than staying there. But...when I got home..." he looked away, glassy eyed. "She was already gone. I yelled and yelled her name, checked the basement and all over the house, but I couldn't find her. Then, when I ran to the living room, there he was, rocking on his rocking chair with the smuggest grin on his face. 'She's long gone.' he said. 'And no matter how much you yell, she's never coming back.' That was it. I broke. I wanted to scream and cry and cut his lips off, but I didn't move. Instead, I ran out the door, to my safe place. I stayed there for hours before I came up with a plan. The boys and I geared up with loads of kerosene, doused the place, and lit it all up, with daddy dearest sleeping in the same spot, smug grin and all." He looked back to Tina. "I tried to get help first. I tried to do the _right thing. _No one gave a shit. So I handled it, like a real man should. I took care of him so Erin didn't die in vain."

"How do you know she's dead?" Mercedes asked from the sidelines, cradling a shallowly breathing Sam near her breast. He was responsive and somewhat alert. His presence next to her gave her courage. "How do you know he killed her?"

"You didn't see his face." Donovan grimly answered. "You didn't know him like I did. I've seen him kill with his bare hands, then sit in front of the television and eat, like nothing happened. It's how he works. You think he cares that she's little and helpless? He likes that. He uses that. He uses your weakness and preys on it. He knew Erin was mine. That's why I knew he'd stop at nothing to take it away. I don't regret it for a second."

"So, why'd you kill Derrick?"

Donovan lifted his gun again, charging toward the group. "Who said that?"

The crowd remained silent. "The _fuck _you know about Derrick, huh? The fuck you know?"

"It was in all the papers, Donovan, sir." Rachel offered shakily. "W-we only heard. Rumors!"

Donovan lifted the tip of her nose with his pistol, leaning close with a threatening eye. "Then you shouldn't listen to rumors then, right?" he said in a patronizing voice. Rachel nodded slowly, biting her lip as she tried not to cry. "Good."

Donovan stepped away, lowering his gun, much to everyone's relief. Rachel leaned into Finn's embrace, muting her sobs in his chest.

"It's not what you all think. Everyone always comes to their own neat little conclusions about what they _think _happened, and they weren't even there!" he yelled, waving his gun around. "Why doesn't anybody ever care to ask _me _what happened, hmm?"

"Tell us your side, Donovan. What happened to Derrick?" Bee asked, calming him immediately with her non-aggressive approach. "We're listening."

"If I tell you, will you believe me?" he asked.

"Of course, dear. Why would you lie?" she answered. "Tell the truth, and I will believe you. I know you're a good boy."

Donovan smirked ever so slightly. "I'm good?" he asked quiet hope, lowering his weapon. Bee nodded. "It would have all been flawless, y'know? That was the plan. We kill him and get out. But, when we were running, one of the faulty beams from the roof crashed down. I jumped out just in time, but Derrick got stuck. I pulled and pulled him, but he wouldn't move and the fire kept on growing. It burned too much to keep reaching in. He screamed so loud..." The crowd of people slowly faded away in front of Donovan's eyes, giving way to the fiery scene that haunted his childhood. Derrick lay flat under the burning beam, gasping and choking from the smoke. His screams pierced Donovan's ears, and he reached out to grab the apparition's hand, flinching as he did in his youth when his hand touched the flames.

"You screamed so loud, Derrick," he said to the burning figure. "And you kept on choking on the smoke. There was so much smoke from the flames, you understand? I couldn't even see you anymore. I could only hear you crying out for me. I tried to get to you, but I couldn't brave it to go back inside." He grew irritated, seeing the flailing boy stop moving and collapse in the flames. "Why did you have to come? Why didn't you stay home like we told you?! Everyone said you weren't ready. You had fucking asthma, for Christ's sake! Why the hell would you go near a fire? What, to prove yourself? To prove you were a man? Well, real men fight for themselves. Real men don't beg other people to save them. Real men aren't fucking weaker than a flimsy beam on a rotting house with creaky floors!" he yelled through his tears. His anger fell to anguish, and he desperately grabbed for Derrick's hand, but it was already too late. The vision began to fade. "Derrick." He whispered in his agony, mourning his friend. His small, dark hand disappeared in his palm, and he clenched his fingers. He looked back to Bee. "And, once I knew I couldn't save him, part of it all felt...good. I couldn't explain it to you if I tried."

"Try," Bee pleaded. "Try anyway."

He faltered a bit. "Derrick was so perfect. Everyone loved him more. Even Larry and Eddie were more loyal to him than they were to me. He had a nice life and food and a home and a mom, everything I'd always wanted. I loved him, but...part of it all felt so _good _to see someone like him fall for once. It felt good to watch him disappear into ashes. I thought, 'Finally, I could let go of the dream.' If it all died in the smoke, if it all billowed and floated away, maybe somehow I would want it less. Maybe it would stop being the standard. Maybe if there was less perfection in the world, someone like me could have a chance to be seen as more than a mistake. But then, he was gone, and the screaming stopped, and all I felt was...Anger?" He nodded, affirming his own description. "I was angry. Yes...yes! I was pissed off!" He looked back toward the group of girls, hiding in the corner or the stage. "All of you! You don't know how fucking good you have it!" He pointed to a girl cowering in the back. "You had a whole family who supported your dreams! And what do you do? You run away from home, _choosing _to live on the streets because your fucking parents wouldn't up your stupid allowance! How DARE you!" He looked to another girl, grabbing her arm. "And you..." It was the short French exchange student, and though she understood every word he said, the mix of fear and sheer terror made all of her limited English vocabulary fly out the window.

"You could have stayed in France with your mom, went to school at some fancy local private place. She's all alone! Instead, you selfishly come all the way up here to America because you wanted some fucking change of scenery." He twisted her wrist, bending her arm behind her neck.

"Monseur! J'al mal! J'al mal!" She screamed in pain. The young cop by the curtain gave his partners the signal to prep for fire.

"No! Please wait! He's a victim too!" Bee cried out, waving her hands to halt them. She pried his fingers off of the girl's wrist. "Donovan, stop!"

Donovan let her go, snatching his hand back. "Rich bitches."

"Omigod, that's it isn't it?" Mercedes said suddenly, making sense of all she heard. "They were all stable and happy from well-to-do families, and they were all planning to leave. That it, isn't it?" Donovan looked at her silently. "Backpacking through Europe, driving cross country, going off to college in a new country, running away...they were all leaving." She frowned, growing angry. "You attacked them because you knew that meant that they would run back home. They wouldn't be able to move forward. You wanted to...contain them, didn't you?"

"They shouldn't have left their families behind!" he yelled back. "You're supposed to stay with the people that love you. No one is supposed to leave!"

A walkie-talkie buzz went off, coming from the older cop's pocket. Everyone turned to the sound.

"Johnson to outer guard, what's your report? He said to the handheld.

"We have a potential bargaining chip. A live one." The other end replied, in a crackled voice. "Potential trade for victims. Hold fire."

"Personal?" the older cop asked.

"Relative, Sir. Claims to be the perp's sister."

"Who the hell is that?!" Donovan demanded, swinging out his gun. Several other firearms around the auditorium clicked, preparing for any sudden moves.

"Whoa, hold on there, son. Take it easy." The older gentleman urged. "We have someone that you might want to see."

"I don't want to see anyone! I just want Mercedes to come with me, where she belongs!" he called out. Donovan walked over to her and a weakened Sam, hugging her around her waist with all his might. "C'mon, Darling. Enough with the games. Come to me." He grabbed her hand, but Sam grabbed his wrist, digging his nails into his skin until it broke and bled. No matter how much Donovan tried to pull, Mercedes and Sam fought him back with double strength, thwarting his efforts. The rest of the glee group yelled and screamed for him to let her go, just as the theatre doors unlocked in front of them.

Donovan finally let go and aimed his gun toward the door, prepping for any sudden attack.

"Donnie?"

The familiar voice that spoke his childhood nickname completely disarmed him. "Who is that?"

"Donnie? Big brother?" Erin came into view and gasped, crying instantly when she saw him. "Oh man, it is you. You are alive. It's true!"

Donovan dropped his gun in his pocket, blinking several times in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Sunshine?' he asked tentatively, afraid to say her name, lest she disappear.

"Donnie!" She sprinted and met him center stage, tripping over the steps and falling into his arms. She felt his hair and tucked her face in his neck, sighing a weary sigh. "You're real. You're really here. It's me, Donnie. It's Erin. It's Rin, Donnie."

Donovan could barely hug her back. Her very existence kept him frozen. "I thought you were dead. You're not dead?"

"No! I'm right here! Look at me." She grabbed his face, beaming as she kissed his cheeks and nodded. "It's really me. I'm really here! It's Erin, big brother. It's me!" She wept against his neck and embraced him. "You're not dead."

"Erin?" He returned her embrace, still in disbelief. Softly, he rubbed her back and shushed her cries, resting his nose in her hair just to smell her. She was still as soft and bright as he remembered. "Erin. Sunshine." He began to weep as well, and tightened his grip around her body as he rocked her from side to side.

"Yes, it's me." He lifted her and squeezed, sighing. "It's me. It's you." She said. "We're together.

Donovan pulled back, cupping her face to look at her. "Where have you been? Are you happy? Are you healthy?" He asked in one breath.

"I'm fine!" she smiled, wiping her nose on her forearm. "I've missed you so much, Donnie. I've missed you with all of my heart."

"I've missed you too, Rin." He pulled her back and cried with her, embracing her tiny body with all the pent up emotion he could muster. There were no words for the relief, the utter of joy of seeing each other alive and well. "I've missed you for longer than you know."

"Daddy hurt me, Donnie. That's why I had to run away." Erin cried to him. "I ran because he hurt me when you weren't there."

"I know, Sunshine. I know." He answered, kissing her forehead and cradling her like he did when they were little. "I took care of him. He won't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt us anymore."

"You set the fire?" she asked, utterly confused.

"I had to, Rin. No one else would come. I went to get help, but no one would come." he said. Her eyes peered over his shoulder, talking in the fearful faces and police officers. She pulled back, remembering why they were there in the first place.

"What are you doing, Donnie? Huh?" she whispered to him. "What are you doing, big brother? This isn't you. This isn't the Donnie I remember. They put you all over the news and talk about you holding these people hostage? Why are you hurting them?"

"I don't want to," he cried. "They think I'm a monster, Erin. I'm not. It's not true."

"Please let them go, Donnie. They're my friends," she pleaded. "_Mercedes _is my friend. Please, give up the gun and let them go so we can go home."

"But, I love her, Erin," he whispered back. "You're not supposed to let go of people you love."

Erin hugged him, rubbing his back. "Sometimes love means letting go, Donnie. I've learned that. Look at all of them." She pointed out the New Directions and his victims, watching them intently. "Is this who you want to be? Do you want to be feared for the rest of your life? You don't want this label, Donnie. And look at them." She pointed out Mercedes and Sam, sitting on the steps, leaning in each other's embrace. "She loves _him_. You can't change that, no matter what you do. She loves Sam, Donnie. That's her true love."

Donnie looked at the couple through new eyes, watching the protective way Sam's arms tightened around Mercedes. Mercedes didn't spare him a passing glance. Her eyes only looked toward Sam's scar, stroking it lightly and lovingly with the sleeve of her costume to control the bleeding. She only stopped when Sam nudged her doting hand with his nose, nodding in his direction. Their eyes met, and Mercedes couldn't find an ounce of warmth for him in her gaze.

"You...don't love me, do you?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I love Sam."

Mercedes could see the heartbreak and confusion in his eyes. "Why do you love him? Why can't you love me?"

A host of reasons ran through her mind, but only one answer encompassed them all.

"You tried to force me. I gave Sam everything willingly. Romantic love is a gift, Donovan, not an obligation."

"Donnie?" Erin turned his face back to her. "Let it go. Please give up the gun. If you do, we'll never have to be apart ever again."

"You won't leave?"

"Not ever," promised Erin. "And you can meet my adopted parents. They took great care of me and they would love to meet you. I talk about you all of the time."

"You do?" His eyes softened when she nodded.

"And they can love you, too. We can be a family again, a real one this time, like we always wanted. We can go swimming and eat ice cream and go to the lake and everything we always said we would do when we were free. We can do all of it." She pointed to the gun in his pocket."But only if you give up the gun and let these people go."

Donovan stared at the weapon for a long while, and then at the group of people he'd taken hostage. Lastly, he glanced and Sam and Mercedes, in each other's arms, and made his decision.

Slowly, he pulled the gun out and gripped it firmly in his palm, holding it between them. "Okay." He said quietly to Erin. "I'm done."

"Bullshit!" Eva stepped forward from the group, pissed as hell. "Shoot him, damnit! How dare he get his happy ending?! All of this is his fault! Did we forget?" she yelled to everyone. "He's a liar and a rapist! Shoot him!"

"You shut your mouth, Eva. You shut your mouth right now." Donovan growled. "You've done enough damage."

"Kill him!" She ran toward the edge of the stage, gesturing to the police standing by around the auditorium. "Kill him! Shoot him!"

"Shut UP!" He raised his gun, aiming for her head, but a blast from the corner knocked the weapon out of his hand. "Shit!"

Eva looked on as he sat and cradled his wound, eyeing his bloodied hand with joyful relish. "Kill him! Kill him!"

"No!" Erin cried out, covering his body with hers. "I know what he did, but he's still my brother! Please!"

Eva yanked her hair and pried her off of him. Donovan jumped forward to pull his sister back. Without missing a beat, Eva slid forward and grabbed the weapon near his feet, pressing it into the back of his neck before he could fully stand.

"Eva, what are you doing?!" Mercedes cried. "It's over. He's letting us go."

"If you all don't have the balls to kill him, then I will," she threatened.

"No, please!" Erin begged, gripping her arm tightly. "I know what he did to you. Believe me, I understand how much you must hate him. The same thing happened to me. But please, for me, don't kill him! Have mercy!"

"Mercy?" Eva laughed at the idea. "Like he gave my brother? Did he grant him any mercy? Not a chance in hell." She scowled at Donovan. "I should have never let you meet him. He would still be alive and you'd be the one six feet under, catching your sister's tears at your grave site."

"Introduced? I thought your brother met Donovan on his own?" Mercedes asked. Eva remained silent, letting the accusation loom between them. "You said that you and Donovan grew up together. Exactly how long did you stay friends?"

"You gonna kill me, baby?" Donovan said lowly. "You're gonna let me die without finishing the whole story? Why not just tell the truth? Tell them how you're not as innocent as everyone thinks you are."

"Shut up, Donovan. I'm warning you." she threatened slowly to make every word sink in. "I will shoot you. My truth _is_ the truth."

"You think I'm afraid? I'm not afraid to die. Hell, I've been waiting for someone to put me out of this misery of a life," he said.

"Donnie, stop talking like that." pleaded Erin.

Donovan ignored her pleas. "But, if you think killing me is gonna ease your guilty conscience, then you're dead wrong. What you did will always haunt you, until the day you die."

"Shut up! Shut the hell up!" Eva screamed. "Shut your mouth! It was your fault!"

"Oh, stop playing innocent, Evie!" yelled Donovan. "You sent him with me! You were in on all of this long before Derrick came into the picture. I mean really, strangers? We were far more than that, babe."

"What's he talking about, Eva?" asked one of the girls. "What does he mean?"

Donovan answered before Eva could reply. "Eva was my best friend and my _girlfriend_. She was the one that used to sneak off and hang with us. Derrick would follow behind and trail us, wondering what she was up to."

"Shut up! Stop lying!" Eva yelled, her hands trembling around the gun handle.

"Truth time, baby! Truth time!" he screamed. "You were there when I planned out the whole fire. It was your idea to get the kerosene from your dad's house. She hated his guts, told us that we could throw in the containers and frame him for the murder. She said we could kill two birds with one stone."

"No! Stop talking! Stop talking!"

Donovan stood, meeting her eye to eye. "It's the truth! And you _knew _Derrick had asthma, but you sent him in your place anyway! You were my best friend. You were supposed to be there! You punked out and sent him and he couldn't handle the smoke!"

"I didn't think! I forgot! I—I freaked out, okay? I couldn't go through with it! It's not my fault!" Eva rebutted. "He wasn't supposed to go in! You were supposed to go in with Larry! That was the plan! He was supposed to stand outside and keep guard!"

"He was the one that insisted! He wanted to prove that he could do it, that he deserved to be one of us." He jabbed her chest. "He wouldn't have gone in if it wasn't for you and your fucking teasing. You were calling him _precious cargo_, _fragile white boy _and other shit."

Eva trembled and bit her lip; she kept biting until it bled. "Well, you fucked your own sister! It's why you're so screwed up! Did you tell them?" She pointed to the group of his victims, huddled in the corner. "Did you tell them why _else _you singled them out?" She marched over to them, pointing out each girl one by one. "Every one of you, every last one of you are _Ana clones_. He picked her eyes or hair or build out of all of you and chose you so he could screw his sister one more time!"

"You don't know, Eva!" he yelled, charging toward her and clamping her mouth. "You don't know anything about what we had! We made love, you hear? We made love! And she would have come back by now if it wasn't' for you!"

"Made love? Come back?" Erin asked behind him. "Ana's alive?!"

Donovan barely looked back at her. He shoved Eva off to the side in his anger. "Yeah, sunshine. She works in Kentucky now. She is a big country music star, married and everything. She did everything mama said she would do with her voice."

"Then...why didn't she come back for us?" Donovan shared a pained look with his sister. Eva rose to her feet, working her sore jaw in the corner.

"She wants to forget us, Erin. She wants to forget me," he answered.

"No." Erin shook her head. "No, that's not true. She would never leave us behind in that house. She loved us. She always said that..."

"Love isn't fucking enough sometimes, Erin!" Donovan yelled. She stared at him, frightened by his outburst. He hugged her close to console her. "I went to see her, Rin. Remember when I told you I was going to get us help? I saw her on TV one day and heard she was in Kentucky. Her voice still sounds like a choir of angels," he reminisced, in a soft voice. "I ran to her, Erin, to beg her to come back and help us. I stole money and took a bus and trekked all across that place until I found her. She was outside this little café, surrounded by security and paparazzi. I called her name-her real name—and she turned around and looked me dead in the eye. I know that she knew it was me, Rinny. She looked so sad, like she missed me as much as I missed her. But you know what? She got up and walked away. She left with her crew and her fancy clothes and new, haughty image and _walked away_...from _me, _Erin! From us!"

"No! It's not true." Erin cried.

"Yes it is! Yes it is! You have to believe me, Rin." He insisted, shaking her shoulders. Blood trickled down his palm, soaking the sleeve of her shirt. "Shit."

Erin ripped off the arm of his long sleeved button down and tied the material tightly over his wound. "You're okay. I'm gonna take care of you, Donnie."

"Will you stay?" he asked quietly. "You won't leave, right? You'll stay?"

"I promise," she replied. "I won't leave you."

"You won't have to keep that promise for long," Eva said behind them, aiming for Donovan's heart.

"Eva, I have to offer you the same warning. The officers will just as easily take you down." Bee urged quietly. "Please, stop and think about the consequences of your actions."

Officers began to discreetly escort the rest of the New Directions and the girls from the sister circle offstage, through the unlocked exit door behind them. Only Mercedes and Sam remained, sitting on the steps.

"Did he think? Did he think when my brother was dying, screaming for help? No, I'm done giving chances." Eva replied. "First, he takes my family, then my innocence..."

"Oh, you deviant little LIAR!" roared Donovan. "I didn't take anything you didn't give me! You made up that rape garbage because you were pissed off at me for what you thought I did to Derrick. And you know, for a while, I thought I deserved it. I've apologized to you for what happened to him more times that I can count, but it was never enough! I never forced you, Eva. Lying won't bring him back!"

"Eva, is this true?" Bee asked, piecing it all together. "Did you lie when you said that Donovan raped you?"

Eva remained silent, looking guilty as ever. "Eva?"

"He was my only brother. Do you know what that's like? To lose someone so precious to you? To know that you could have prevented it somehow?" she asked angrily, hot tears flowing down her face. "I should have kept him out of all of this. I should have never let him join."

"Please Eva, put the gun down and tell me what happened. I know what it's like to lose someone you love, watching them die, wishing you could have said or done something to stop them. Let me tell you, the answer to violent death is _never _more death. It only makes things worse," urged Bee. "I really want to help you, Eva."

She shook her head, tears streaming. "I'm beyond help."

"No one is beyond help, honey," Bee insisted. "Please."

After a moment, Eva slowly lowered her arm, letting the weapon fall away from her hands. Bee quickly picked it up and handed it to the officers in the corner. Once the firearm was in their possession, the rest of the police crew lowered their weapons.

"They called my mother the black hole. Do you know why? Because she had the audacity, in this backward southern town, to have _one _biracial child out of wedlock. Do you have any idea what that did to our family?" Eva spat. "There are only six black families in this hell hole of place, and my mother was the lowest of the low. How dare she be as dark as she was, have this white looking child, and raise him _here_? We used to get beat up every day after school. They lynched dolls in class, threatening to do the same to us after class was over. This was kindergarten! We used to have to take the long way home because they would always threaten to beat my brother until the color drained out of him. And you think it was just at school. Adults! Grown folk wanted us dead, chased us down with bats like we were animals." Eva began to tear. "We begged my mom to move us, and she'd always ask us why, but we'd never tell her. We knew she only wanted to stay because of _him. _We hated Derrick's dad, whoever the hell he was, for letting us suffer like that, letting the woman he supposedly loved get dragged through the mud like she was lower than dirt. And my mother took it all, like she was atoning for some sin! Sin of her skin? Was she really whoring herself? I always wondered. Gossip always makes you wonder. I swore I'd never be weak like her. I was gonna be a fighter. No bullshit."

"Then, I met the boys and...they understood, you know? I felt like we all had something to battle, and we felt invincible when we were together. Derrick begged and begged to roll with us, but I kept shrugging him off. He was my kid brother. But, he kept on and kept on until he got his way. The day of the fire..." Eva began to cry. "I was supposed to go, but I got scared. It was the biggest thing we'd ever done. What if something went wrong? Derrick said he'd go in my place, but I thought he was joking. I waved him off and gave him my blessing, but I didn't think that he would take it seriously! I told him never to do that!" she cried. "He was trying to prove that he belonged, you know? I didn't know where he'd gone until I heard the police sirens. I followed the sound to Donovan's, and that's when I knew. He was gone. He would have run back home and bragged about it by then. He always wanted to do everything so much better than me." She chuckled humorlessly. "Then I saw Donovan walk out without a scratch, strolling through like nothing happened. I thought, it couldn't be, right? Don wouldn't just let him die and not try everything to save him? He said he would do anything for me, for us. I believed that."

"I did do everything, Evie!" Donovan cried.

"It wasn't enough, Donnie!" she yelled back. "I thought you loved us! I thought you loved me! You were supposed to protect him!"

"I did love you! But, you wouldn't let me explain anything; you just made up your mind about what happened. You never even asked me what happened!" Donovan said.

Eva grew quiet, angrily wiping her face. "You don't ask the guilty how they got blood on their hands. You already know. I knew you were wicked, Don, but this...this was unforgivable."

Donovan kept shaking his head, over and over, until he cried in his hands.

"Oh, stop being a bitch about it. Man the hell up." Eva said harshly. "There's no sympathy here."

"Why lie, Eva?" Bee asked. "Was your brother dying worth accusing someone of such a heinous act? Why rape?"

Eva smiled evilly. "Mcmann arrived on the scene afterward, crying and shit, weeping into Derrick's ashes. I saw his face and knew, right then, that he was the bastard that caused my family so much pain. Derrick had his features and everything. He mourned for about a minute, probably to get rid of his guilt, and got up, ready to leave. Then, I saw Donovan start talking to him...whispering and sharing something...and next thing I know McMann scoops him up, packs him in his limo and drives off with him!" she yelled indignantly. "And I was thinking, that was the little turd's plan all along! He wanted a new, rich daddy for himself! But not just any daddy...oh, no. He wanted my _brother's _daddy. But new daddy wouldn't want him if he still had a son wandering around. Why would he want another? There wasn't any void to fill. So he had to make one. You killed my brother so you could get your family!"

"No! Eva, that's not true!" Donovan yelled. "I would never do that to you or to Derrick! McMann took me away and told me he would protect me. And yeah, it felt nice to have someone care, so I let him! But I never planned it, I swear to you! I never did!"

"Liar!" She screamed, charging him and slamming him into the ground. She pressed her knee into his groin, holding him in place. Erin tried to pull her off, but she bit her arm and shoved her away.

"And then, your new rich daddy covers it all up, tucking Derrick's memory away like it never happened!" She slammed his head against the theatre floor. "And that's just what you wanted, isn't it?" She slammed his head a few more times for good measure. "And I lure you in and set up everything, so no one could argue what happened!" she said contemptuously, as she continued to slam his head. "My mother _saw _you on top of me! It was flawless!" She slapped his face. "But you think it was enough? You think they believed me? No! Because your new rich daddy covered that shit up, too! It would have worked! You should be put away!"

Bee and the police tried with all of their might to pry them apart. Bee finally caught hold around her waist, pulling her flailing, kicking body upright. She dragged her, screaming, to the corner of the auditorium. Sam and Mercedes watched on in silent horror, trying to make sense of all they'd seen and heard.

"I stopped trying," Donovan shrugged, wiping his bloody lip as the officers stood him up and cuffed him. "I stopped trying to be good, because no one believed me. And you know what? Bad felt like a relief. It felt so much better. So thank you, Eva. Without you, I would have still held on to the horseshit they call hope."

"Donovan McMann, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney..." The young officer continued to read him his rights, walking him down the theatre steps.

"Sam, Mercedes?" The couple looked up to the smiling older cop, stretching out his hand. "You've been through hell and back. Let's get you kids out of here safe and sound, hmm?"

The couple mutely nodded, and Mercedes helped a pale looking Sam to his feet. She wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and slowly, they made their way to the exit.

"Don't let go," he said hoarsely, crooking a small smile at her.

"I won't." she replied, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady. "I promise."

"Sinclair, take them outside to the ambulance would you? And have paramedics take a look at the boy's head. We don't want any cranial bleeds," he said to another cop, a tall, svelte brunette.

"On it, boss," she said, ushering them outside gently. "C'mon, let's go."

Sinclair took Sam's other arm, supporting his left side as they hobbled down the steps. Mercedes stopped them.

"Wait. We forgot Erin."

"Officer Johnson went to go get her. Don't worry, she's in good hands." Officer Sinclair assured her. Mercedes looked back, nodding when she saw Officer Johnson talking to a crying Erin, sitting on the floor.

"Will she be okay?" Mercedes asked.

Officer Sinclair shrugged. "Honestly, it's hard to say. We're gonna try to get her help and hope for the best. It's a tough situation."

"Hope..." Sam chuckled. "Been hearing a lot of hope lately."

"Let's not lose it, baby. It's all we've got to hold on to today. C'mon." They started to walk down the last of the steps, heading toward the door, when the entrance to the auditorium burst open, and a frantic, well dressed figure ran down the aisle.

"Stop right there, officer. I'm D.A. McMann and I will be overseeing this investigation." McMann walked over, pushing the officer aside, as he reached for his keys and un-cuffed his son. "Are you alright, Don? Did they hurt you?"

"No, Sir. They were gonna take me down to the precinct," Donovan answered, flexing his wrists once he was free. "I deserve it."

"What are you talking about, huh?" McMann lovingly patted his cheeks, looking him in the eyes. "I haven't been doing this father thing right so far, but from now on, it's gonna be you and me in this together, alright? No more lying or covering up. We're gonna do this honestly and get you the help you deserve." He held his hands. "You are my son, no matter what. And I love you always."

Eva heard the whole exchange and ripped away from Bee's hold, enraged. Before anyone could react, Eva reached into Officer Johnson's holster and took out his gun, while his back was turned.

"Johnson! Weapon engaged!" yelled Officer Sinclair, whipping out her pistol. She released Sam and tried to aim, but it was too late. Her bullet hit Eva's shoulder seconds after Eva's bullets pierced Donovan's back and McMann's side, knocking them to the floor. Officers were on post right away, cuffing Eva as she fell to her knees. Eva looked on with an extremely wicked grin, watching the two objects of her rage squirm and writhe in pain on the floor.

"I hope they die slowly," she growled, letting the officers handle her and walk her down without a fuss. "I hope he suffers like Derrick suffered."

"I can't feel my body! I can't feel my body!" Donovan screamed, jerking his head around. The rest of him remained still, trembling in a small pool of his own blood. McMann was unresponsive, lying on his side with terrible rivers of crimson running down his white suit jacket. Officers called for paramedics on the scene, and immediately stretchers came in and scooped them up, carrying them to the ambulance outside. It was the last thing Mercedes saw before her and Sam were shoved through the exit. That, and a trembling, screaming Erin sprawled out on the theatre floor.

**O-O**

The quiet of the hospital room was unusually welcome, considering the emotionally and physically taxing day they'd had. After paramedics assessed them, Sam was whisked away to New York Presbyterian for an immediate CAT scan, just to make sure he didn't have any minor brain bleeds or latent concussion symptoms. After the medical staff called his parents and told them all that had happened, it was agreed that they would keep him overnight for observation, just to be on the safe side. Mr. and Mrs. Jones had already come and gone, bringing soup, a warm change of clothes, and loads of concerned hugs for the couple. Once they were sure that they were alright, the Joneses booked a hotel room for the night to stay close by, promising the Evans' continuous updates on his condition until they could come down from Kentucky. Mercedes opted to stay with Sam. She couldn't rest well if she wasn't by his side, and her parents allowed her the alone time without protest.

Sam fell asleep less than an hour after they'd gone, and Mercedes lay beside him in bed, resting on his chest and humming a song as she watched the steady drip of his IV fluid. She was on the second verse of _I will always love you_ when he began to stir. She propped herself up on her elbow, smiling when he opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, in a groggy voice.

"Hey, sexy," she replied, gently pushing his bangs back to touch his bandage. "How's your head doing?"

"Pounding...heavy...but I'm pretty sure it's still attached," he joked, wincing when his chuckle sent a sharp pain through his skull.

"Shhh, don't do too much. Remember the doctor said you need to take it easy while you recover." Mercedes reminded him softly. "Just because they didn't find anything on the CAT scan doesn't mean you might not have a concussion."

"Thank you, Dr. Jones. I appreciate your medical advice," he smiled. When he saw the set frown on her face, he reached up to cup her cheek, frowning with her when he caught one of her tears on his thumb.

"I'm okay, Mercy. Please stop worrying." he assured her.

"I know." She sniffled. "But we were so close. It could have been so different right now."

"But it's not," he reminded her.

"But it could have been." She retorted, swiping her thumb over his pale pink lips. He had just started to regain his coloring. "You were so brave today."

"So were you," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. Mercedes bent down and kissed him lips, savoring the warm swirl of feelings it brought within her.

"I love you," she whispered, raising her bright eyes to his as she rested her lips under his chin.

"I love you too." He smiled, bopping her nose. She scrunched her face and shook her head, playfully swatting him away.

"Sam!"

"What? It's adorable," he argued, lovingly rubbing the round tip. His fingers traveled, spanning the breadth of her cheek. "You're adorable."

She sighed, resting on his chest. She took his hand, kissing the string around his wedding finger. "And you're...irreplaceable," she said quietly. He laced their fingers together, resting them on his chest.

"So are you." He replied. They laid quietly for a moment, letting the possibilities of today and all that could have happened work themselves out in their minds.

"Favor?" Sam asked suddenly. She raised her head, silently nodding at him.

"What?"

"I know superheroes don't really get days off, but...do you think you can hang up your cape for a little while? Crime fighting is wearing me out."

Mercedes scoffed and laughed, brightening at his joke. "No more crime fighting for a long, _long _time, Sam," she promised. "From now on, I'm just Mercy Jones, and I'm all yours."

"That's fine by me." He said, kissing her forehead and hugging her close. "That's perfect." Mercedes nodded in agreement. Sam's long yawn triggered her own, and she suddenly became aware of how heavy her eyes felt. They both snuggled under the Superman blanket Burt had sent over and closed their eyes, drifted off into a deep sleep. They rested like they hadn't had rest in years.

It would be the first of many peaceful nights of slumber, worry-free and content in each other's arms. And the worn couple wouldn't dream it any other way.

**O-**

**So, in summary:**

**Donovan and his sister, Ana, had a twisted, incestuous sexual experience that permanently scarred him. (Which, fyi, is considered rape. The fact that Ava was a teenager and a victim of chronic sexual assault and rape by an immediate family member herself does not change that fact, nor does it matter that he is male and his attacker was female. Rape isn't always violent or committed by men. There are tons of male victims who do not identify themselves as such, but exhibit a lot of the signs that we associate with victims of rape and sexual assault.)**

**All of his victims (with the slight exception of Mercedes) physically reminded him of his sister and the love they shared, coupled with the ultimate rejection he faced when he went to find her years later. It explains the violent, yet invested, relationship he's had with each of his victims.**

**He also chose them because they were, in some way or another, "leaving the nest." And, as we've read, Donovan has serious issues with separation, especially within families (for obvious reasons.)**

**Derrick's death was, in fact, an accident, but Donovan did blame himself for what happened. His only intention was to kill his father.**

**Eva, Derrick's sister, was actually Donovan's best friend and first girlfriend who, as she admitted, believed that he purposefully killed her brother to gain the fatherly affections of McMann and bank in on the McMann name. To shame him and get payback for her brother's death, she set him up and falsely accused him of raping her. And, though the accusation was eventually covered up, the label stayed with Donovan, since she was someone he loved and trusted. The successive rapes were Donovan's way of relenting to his tarnished image, a revenge tactic if you will on everyone who ever accused him of being evil and bad. If they wanted it, he'd give it to them. It is the perfect example of how much power the spoken word has over a person's life.**

**And, though it wasn't said outright, Mercedes was chosen because she represented all of these things; the sister who gave him his first sexual experience and left him behind to pursue her passion for music, the best friend she resembled that betrayed him by attacking his name, and the true love he always wanted but would never get. Mercedes was everything he'd desired, but had been denied. She was all that was taken from him, in one way or another.**

**Hope that helps you wrap it all up in your mind. Leave some other questions you might have in a review! Tell me what you think, how the chapter made you feel...even share how certain parts may have personally touched you. I love to hear of readers that identify with a character or storyline in my fiction.**


	26. Chapter 25 Acceptance (1 of 3)

**I'm back!**

**Sorry for the delay. A special thanks to my beta for making my chapter flawless, even while she wasn't feeling well. **

**Another big thanks to my readers for sticking with me on this ride. I love every PM, Review, and tumblr message you send me. I save them all and read them often.**

**NOTE: This chapter may cause cavities, due to the obscene sugary sweet fluff contained within. The author is not responsible for any sugar induced comas, severe bouts of feels, or doctor bills associated with depression/angst over not having a relationship as flawless as our OTP couple. You have been warned.**

**ENJOY!**

**O-O**

"Well folks, it looks like everything's on the up and up!" Dr. Taylor declared, tucking his pen light in the breast pocket of his lab coat. "Everything seems to be in order. Sam's eye exam looked normal. There are no visible signs of nerve damage or sight impairment, and the MRI showed no signs of cranial bleeding or deep fractures. With plenty of fluids and rest, you should be ready to go!"

Sam turned his head and smiled at his girlfriend, sitting behind him on the hospital bed. Mercedes beamed at him, rubbing his shoulder in congratulations. Their parents were equally as elated to hear the news.

"So, does that mean I can go home today?" Sam asked, letting the nurse finish the dressing on his stitches. He rubbed the arms of his wheelchair. "And do I get to keep the wheels?"

"As soon as discharge time rolls around, you're free to go young man! And sadly, the wheels do not come with the visit. It's just to get you downstairs and out the door without any spills." the cheery doctor joked. "If you can hold on for a couple more minutes, you'll be free as a bird! I'll have nurse Sharon get the discharge papers ready."

"Thank you for all you've done for our son," Victoria said to the doctor and nurse, reaching out to shake their hands. "We don't know what we would've done if we'd lost him."

"Oh, no! Not a chance Mrs. Evans!" The doctor assured, pointing at Sam. "This one is a fighter! I've seen the news reports on what happened. He's a brave young man for doing what he did."

"I fight for what matters to me, Sir," Sam answered humbly. He reached back to guide Mercedes' arms around him. She hugged him close and leaned over to kiss his temple.

"My hero," she said in a light voice, resting her head against his as she looked toward the doctor. "Thank you for taking care of my boyfriend, Dr. Taylor. He means the world to me."

Sam smiled big. _Boyfriend. _He'd never get tired of hearing her call him that.

"Is there anything we should be checking for? Any warning signs?" Mr. Evans asked, still a bit wary about Sam's condition. "Are you sure he's okay to go home?"

"I'd bet my medical career on it!" the doctor replied.

"And, exactly_ how _long have you been practicing?" Victoria smacked her husband's chest, urging him to shut up. He'd been this way about Sam ever since he was eight weeks old, when he came down with his first cold and struggled to breathe. It was the scariest emergency visit he'd ever had to go through alone, and since then, hospital visits involving his eldest gave him the worst case of PTSD.

"If there are any complaints of dizziness, sudden fainting spells, or any bouts of vomiting or intense nausea, give me a call." The doctor replied, handing him his personal business card. "I'll try to link him up with one of my partners in Lima, just in case."

"Thank you doctor. Appreciate it." Mr. Evans sheepishly replied, tucking the card in his back pocket.

"Are there any medications that he should avoid? Has his medication list been reconciled to include his new pain prescription?" asked Mr. Jones, using his doctor tone.

Dr. Taylor smiled knowingly. "Pediatrician?"

"Dentist." He answered. "But I've done my fair share of peds in my third year of residency. Trust me, I picked the right profession." Mr. Jones smiled, resting his hand on Mercedes' shoulder. "Besides, I deal with meds on a regular basis. I'm used to it."

"Oh, I imagine! Especially with all those heavy extractions. I tell you, I do not envy your job." said Dr. Taylor.

"Well, I'll tell you what we say in the field. There are two kinds of patients, the _no _patient and the _Novocain_ patient!"

The doctors shared a hearty laugh at the field humor. "How true, sir! How true!" Dr. Taylor chuckled.

"Doctor?" The nurse walked in and handed him a clipboard with a host of forms. "The discharge sheets for Mr. Evans."

"Oh, thank you." Dr. Taylor took it and flipped through the sheets as she left, throwing on his squared reading glasses to look them over. "Well, everything seems to be in order...and to answer your question Dr. Jones, Mr. Evans is clear for all meds listed except aspirin. One of his prescribed meds already has blood thinning properties, just in case there are any remaining traces of blood clots. It shouldn't hurt him in theory since we don't expect him to be on his meds for long, but we still want to err on the side of caution," the doctor explained. Sam nodded in comprehension. "Now, who am I handing these off to?"

"Me, I guess. I mean, I'm technically eighteen now, as of Wednesday." Dr. Taylor handed him the clipboard and pen, pointing out the first set of lines he needed to sign.

Sam dramatically sighed, bigger and louder as he read and signed each form. "Great. I'm an adult for less than a week and I already have paperwork. This sucks!"

"Welcome to the real world, son." Mr. Evans said with a laugh. "Soon, it will be bills and loans and car payments. Then you and Mercedes will be watching your own children sign paperwork when they crack their heads."

Mercedes and Sam shared a warm look at the mention of children. Mercedes bashfully ducked her head, sucking in her lips. Sam bit away a smile, looking off to the side.

"But, that won't be for a long, long, _long_ time. Right?" Mr. Jones reached over and patted his hand, painfully crushing his fingers on the arm of the wheelchair. Sam got the hint, nodding emphatically.

"Where's mama?" Mercedes asked, suddenly noticing her mother's absence. "Is she still at the hotel?"

"She's downstairs with Stevie and Stacie. They're still too young to come on the floor. She agreed to watch them while I checked on Sammy." Victoria answered. She quickly glanced at her watch and tapped a fingernail on the glass, checking the hour. "Speaking of the rugrats, I'd better head on downstairs and buy them some lunch. They haven't eaten a thing since they found out what happened to you two. Get this...Stacie declared a hunger strike when I got the call from the hospital. She wouldn't even sip water or be _near _food until the doctor came down and told her that you guys were alright. Can you believe her? What seven year old knows about hunger strikes?"

"I told you she watches entirely too much Discovery Channel." chuckled Mr. Evans. "Of course, once Stevie heard that Mercedes was involved, he jumped in right away and joined the madness."

Sam good naturedly rolled his eyes. "Figures. Mercedes would be the only reason an Evans' man gave up food. That kid stays tryna steal my girl."

"Well, he is pretty charming," Mercedes sighed, resting her chin on his warm shoulder. "And cute. I mean, every time I see that adorable gap in his teeth when he smiles, I just swoon."

Sam finished the last of his signing and handed his dad the clipboard to review the forms. Victoria ran to meet Patrice and the children downstairs. The men huddled together in the corner of the room, discussing politics and gadgets and the like. Sam pouted, turning to face her with bulging pink lips. "I can be adorable, too," he whined.

Mercedes chuckled at his silliness. She couldn't resist rubbing her own plump pout against his. "Is that right?" she said in the same voice, stealing a peck. "Well, not as cute as your little brother. I think you're way too big to be on Stevie's level of adorable, baby."

Sam looked over to make sure the adults weren't paying attention, before returning his girlfriend's gaze with a wolfish smile.

"I can show you better than I can tell you, Ms. Jones." He said quietly, tilting his head back to softly kiss her neck. Mercedes gripped his hair and shuddered.

"That's not what adorable means. I'd...I'd hardly call that adorable," she replied, fighting to keep her voice neutral. Sam slowly licked and nipped his way to her jaw.

"Really?" He kissed along her chin, teasing her soft flesh gently between his teeth until he reached the shell of her ear. "I think I'm downright innocent and precocious, love. What would you call me, then?"

Mercedes tried her best to hide her moan in a soft clear of her throat. "I'd call you frustrating as hell." She growled, gasping when the tip of his tongue rapidly flicked over the sensitive dip behind her ear. "Sam, that's not fair. That's my spot. You know that's my spot, baby. Stop it."

He continued, cupping her neck to pull her closer. Despite her protests, Mercedes didn't move away. Her head lolled against his mouth, rubbing against his lips as he loved on her skin. From Joseph and William's perspective, their children's exchange looked entirely innocent. They had no idea that their little boy's naughty kisses were making their little girl's thighs quiver, or how her whimpers were making their little boy horny as hell.

"Baby, _please._" Mercedes quietly begged, conscious of the crowd close by. "My daddy's right over there."

"And you like that, don't you? You like that he might come and stop us at any moment. You like the thrill. My little freak." he whispered back a smile, drawing her lobe between his lips. "I love the way you sound when you beg me. It's so sexy. Say it again for me, baby. Say please stop sucking on me, Sammy. Please, you're making my pussy so wet."

Mercedes released a needier whine at his words, quickly covering her mistake with a hand to her mouth. The last thing they needed was her father's attention. But Sam felt so good, kissing and loving on her, that she dared to continue.

"I'm not begging you again, Sam." she whispered, giggling when the rough pad of his tongue tickled her behind her ear. "The only person I've ever begged was my daddy, and that was a long time ago," She smiled and pulled back to stare at his lips.

"You gonna call me daddy, then?" He quietly murmured , leaning against her hot mouth as he spoke. "Because I can assure you, Ms. Jones, I _will_ get you to beg me again if it's the last thing I do." Sam confidently closed the space between them and cupped her cheeks, wrapping his tongue around hers until her moans vibrated down his throat. "Say please, big daddy." He eagerly begged, wetting her lower lip with soft licks."Please stop fucking me with your mouth, big daddy."

Her eyes narrowed, small slits of fiery, determined, espresso brown. "No." She declared, though the break in her voice made her demand less convincing. Sam smiled at the challenge, leaning back in to suck and please her neck to his heart's content. "Sam...My daddy is..." She sagged against him, softly sighing and licking her lips as he snaked his tongue up and down her pulse point. "Oh...S-sam, we...you just hit your h.-" She hissed, grabbing and mussing his hair with greedy fingers. "Oh, _my fu..._Oh, _Daddy..."_

"Yes?" The couple jumped apart at the voice . A curious Dr. Jones walked toward them, missing the entire scene. "What's the matter, baby girl? What do you need?"

"Nothing, Dad!" Mercedes squeaked.

"But, you called for me. You said daddy."

"Not you." She quickly replied, hurriedly wiping away any traces of Sam from her neck. She'd hoped, for her sanity, that he would drop the subject.

"But, I'm pretty sure you only have one daddy. If you weren't calling me, who were you calling?"

Sam struggled to hold his laugh in as he watched Mercedes struggle to explain. "I...uh...I was just..."

"Look who we snuck up here to see you!" Victoria joyfully cheered from the doorway, moving aside to let Patrice and the kids in.

"Mommy!" Mercedes sprang up to hug her mom, grateful for the much needed interruption. Four small arms and legs wrap themselves around her from the sides. "Babies!"

"Hi, Mahcedes!" Stacie said in an adorable giggle, reaching to be picked up. Stevie stepped back, sucking his thumb as he watched Mercedes lift his sister in her arms.

"Hi, darling! Did you come to see your big brother?" she asked, kissing her cheeks. Stacie wildly nodded her blond head, smiling to expose the adorable space where her front teeth used to be.

"And we came to see you too!" she said happily. The little one suddenly grew sad, looking up at Mercedes with the widest blue eyes. "I'm sorry you got hurted, Mahcedes. Mommy told us that Donoban hurted you and Sammy."

"It's hurt, sweetheart, not hurted. And I hope you don't mind, Mercy-mine." Victoria said, picking up Stevie and holding him against her hip. "They're seven and super curious. I didn't go into detail, but I thought that it would be educational to fill them in on some of what happened. There's been so much school violence these days..."

"I understand. It's good to talk about it." Mercedes rubbed noses with Stacie, smiling all the while. "But, I'm okay now. And your brother's okay, and we're all gonna be fine, alright?" she assured her.

Stacie smiled brightly, visibly relieved at the older girl's words. "Alright, Mahcedes." She peeked over Mercedes's shoulder and bounced excitedly in her arms, wiggling around to get to her feet. "Sammy!"

Mercedes laughed at her easily diverted attention, letting the girl down so she could hop in her brother's lap. Stevie took the same opportunity, climbing out of his mother's arms to walk to Mercedes.

"Steven Anthony Evans, you take that finger out of your mouth right now before I chop it off and feed it to the rats!" Mrs. Evans warned him.

He defiantly continued to suck, side eyeing his mother's threat. Stevie reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of white paper. With a slight blush, he handed it to Mercedes.

"For you." He said in a garbled voice, shuffling away to join Stacie on his big brother's lap. Mercedes looked to Victoria for a clue, but she simply waved her hand, quietly urging her to open it.

Mercedes smiled as she unfolded it, eager to read. At the very top, in red and blue crayon, a child's handwriting wrote the words "_SORRY YOU GOT HURTED_" in all capital letters. Below the words was a picture of two hearts with Stacie and Stevie's names scribbled in the middle. Mercedes chuckled when she noticed Stevie's effort to make his heart nearly twice as big as his sister's. And below the hearts, each member of the Jones' and Evans' family were drawn in stick figure, brown, round faces mixed with beige, triangular ones, wearing big smiles and wrapping their arms around each other. A blue circle below the feet of the two figures in the middle—figures she assumed were her and Sam, since the round brown face and triangle beige face were holding hands—had the words LOVE in bright green crayon. The female figure wore one of her signature hats and the male one had a Captain America style shirt on. At the very bottom, appropriately so, the words MY FAMILY lay underneath all of their feet in red, with pink and purple stars drawn around it. Mercedes could hear their little hearts in every part of their card. Victoria and Patrice were touched by the beginnings of her tears, letting a few escape them as well as they watched her. They had already seen the card and knew that it would be the perfect balm to soothe her weary heart. Joseph and William snuck a peek over her shoulder, smiling when they read it.

"Well I'll be damned." Will said softly, awed by his children's handiwork. "I guess they understood it all better than I thought they did."

"What does it say, babe?" Sam asked. Mercedes turned to him, still smiling as she wiped the happy tears away. "What did you give her to make her cry, stink bug?" Sam asked his brother, tickling him.

"Nothing!" Stevie howled and kicked, squirming around in his brother's arms. Sam snuck an arm around Stacie's waist as well, tickling her sides until she screamed with laughter.

"We didn't do nothing! We didn't do nothing!" They cried between giggles and shrieks, until they lost their breath. Sam laughed with them. He loved the sounds of their laughter. Stacie managed to wiggle her way out, and she ran to hide behind Mercedes before her tickle monster big brother could catch her. The little one pressed her face against Mercedes's side in an attempt to hide, holding on to her waist with all of her might.

"Save us, Macedes! Save us from the Sam monster!" she cried. Mercedes crossed her arms and shook her head at her.

"I don't think I can do that, love." She replied.  
>"Why not?" Stacie questioned, frowning at the answer.<p>

"Because-THIS!" Mercedes lifted her up and held her face down, tickling her belly. Stacie screamed louder, wiggling and kicking the air. Stevie ran over to join the fun, stretching his hands for Mercedes to pick him up and tickle him like his sister.

"Okay, you two. That's quite enough. Mercedes only has two hands and you two are getting heavy!" William said, reaching for Stevie's hand.

"Awwww!" The disappointed twins walked to their father, pouting as they took his hands. "No fair!"

"Yeah, we never get to play with Sammy and Mahcedes anymore, daddy!" Stacie said to her father.

Stevie rolled his eyes. "It's _Mer_cedes, not _Mah_cedes, Stacie." He sassed, in the most matter of fact way. "Say her name right, stupid."

Stacie grew heated from embarrassment."Stop sucking your thumb like a poopy diaper baby, stupid!" she sassed back, hand on hip.

"Alright, enough!" William said firmly, parting them before a full-fledged fight broke out. Stacie stubbornly stuck her tongue out at Stevie behind their father's back, satisfied that she'd gotten the last word. Stevie gave Mercedes a proud smile, happy that she had seen him correct his sister about her name. He'd done something impressive, and that was all that mattered to him.

"I swear, I don't know what spell you have over them, but they _never _fight over anyone like this!" William laughed, struggling to hold the squabbling twins apart.

"Not even me," Sam said, shaking his head as they tried to hit each other behind his father's back. "Hey!" With a clap, he caught their attention. "Guys! Injured big brother over here! I don't get any love?"

The twins stopped fighting and ran over to their brother. "Sorry, Sammy." They said, hugging his shoulders and kissing each of his cheeks.

"Room for a couple more?" A yellow and purple rose bouquet suddenly popped up between Victoria and Patrice at the doorway, startling them. Kurt's head sprang up above it soon after, grinning like a cheeky elf.

"Kurt!" Mercedes and Sam exclaimed. Patrice and Victoria parted, giving him way to run into his friends' arms. The rest of New Directions flooded in behind him, kissing the mothers' cheeks as they passed to greet their friends. Quinn stopped to give Patrice a lingering hug, talking with her and linking fingers like they did when she had lived with the Joneses. Stevie ran to Finn, jumping into his outstretched arms. Finn threw him on his shoulders, seating him around his neck. His larger arms held out his smaller ones as they spun, with Finn making the silliest, whirring noise that Stevie had ever heard. Stacie skipped over to Brittany, and they greeted each other with a kiss on the finger and a touch on the nose. It was a secret handshake of sorts that they'd created when they met. Stacie felt a strange kinship with her that she hadn't felt with any other older girl. It was almost like Brittany was more her friend than Sam's.

Sugar and Santana bombarded Mercedes with hugs and kisses, tumbling over as a unit on the hospital bed. A concerned Kurt, Blaine and Joe inspected Sam's head wound, while Puck punched his arm and cheered him for his bravery. Rachel looked around, trying her best to look inconspicuous as she snuck a piece of fried fish from Sam's hospital tray. Her eyes rolled back in delight when she had her first taste of the crispy golden treat, and she shamelessly uncovered the plate to devour the rest. Tina and Mike came in shortly after all of them, walking in with tons of get well balloons. Tina also had two teddy bears in her left hand, with their hands magnetically linked .One was brown with a purple and blue polka dot bow on the ear and the other was white, wearing a blue bowtie to match his partner. The entire room was alive with excited chatter and well wishes.

Dr. Taylor walked in the room with the nurse, ready to discharge Sam. The two medical officials froze when they caught sight of the sudden crowd. He checked the clock on the wall, just to make sure that it had only been fifteen minutes since they'd left the room. How had they missed all of these people coming in?!

The doctor blew a loud whistle, quieting the noisy room in an instant.

"Mr. Evans, it you'd like, you're free to go. Your nurse is here to escort you and your—um, _crowd _downstairs to your...car?" he questioned, eyeing a rough estimate of fifteen people. "Boy, you have a whole entourage!"

The New Directions laughed.

"Yeah, . We're lucky folks." Sam said, grabbing Mercedes' hand. "C'mon, crew. Let's roll outta here."

**O-O**

The nurse wheeled Sam through the double doors of the emergency room exit, setting his brakes near the parked van on the curb. Mercedes following close behind, with their parents and the New Directions fanning around them.

"Mom? Dad? Is it okay if I ride with my friends back to Lima? The doctor said it would be fine." Stevie and Stacie hopped off of Sam's lap and raced to the van. William clicked the automatic door open just in time on the rental, letting them inside before they crashed into hard metal. He and his wife shared a pensive look.

"I don't know, bud. You up for it? The ride might be really bumpy. It could flare up your headaches." Mr. Evans warned him.

"Yeah, and there won't be any one there to remind you to take your medicine or put the ointment on your stitches or make sure that you get enough rest. I don't know, Sam." Mrs. Evans said warily.

"Mom, I'm pretty sure I could handle all of those things on my own. Besides, I have to start learning, right? You're not going to be around to keep track of me forever."

"Says who?" sassed Victoria, hand on hip. "Boy, eighteen or eighty, I'm still gonna be your mama. I'm gonna stick on you like peanut butter to the roof of your mouth on a hot summer day until the good lord sees right and fit to end me. Trust and believe."

"I know, Mom." Sam laughed. "But I'm not a baby anymore. I'll have to learn how to handle things on my own."

"You've been handling things, Son. We don't want you to have to do that again." said Mr. Evans.

"But we're not talking about long night shifts doing jobs I hate, dad. I'm talking about taking responsibility for myself and doing what's best for me. I may have started earlier than most, but now it's on my terms." Sam told his father. "Besides, it's just a couple of hours. We've all had a pretty difficult couple of days and...I really need to spend some time with them."

Mr. Evans nodded in understanding.

"And I'll be there, Mama Vic. I'll help him remember everything," Mercedes added, nodding assuredly as she rubbed her boyfriend's shoulder. "I'll time it and put the new bandages on myself if he needs it. You know I'm good for it."

"We'll all be there to help." Finn added, pulling Rachel and Puck close beside him. "Right guys?" Everyone nodded, voicing their commitments to help.

Victoria's eyes shone over her son. She rubbed his cheek lovingly, admiring the new sense of self that shone in his eyes. "When did you stop crawling around and toppling over my furniture and start becoming a man?"

Sam shrugged, wearing his adorable crooked grin. "Somewhere around puberty, I think." he joked. Sam looked to Mercedes, cupping her hand over his shoulder. "And I met a good woman who challenged me to be better, mama. She changed everything about life."

Mercedes smiled at him, mouthing "I love you."

Rachel scowled, smacking Finn in the stomach. "Ow! Rachel, what the hell?"

"Why don't you make sweet speeches to your parents about how I've influenced your life?" she angrily asked.

"Uhhh..." Finn thought up a quick answer, cowering under the looming sense of dread that washed over him whenever Rachel started tapping her foot. "Because the impact you've had on my life needs no words?"

Rachel's face brightened. "Really? Aww, Finny Bear!" She bounced up on the balls of her feet and kissed his cheek. Finn smiled dumbly, happy that she bought it.

"So, where are we dropping Mr. Evans? Is he traveling with his friends or going into the van with you?" the nurse asked, checking her watch. "I don't mean to rush you, but we have a heavy load on the floor and I'm nowhere near done with my documentation."

Sam looked to his parents. "Well? Is it alright?"

The adult Evans' nodded. "We'll drive you over to the bus. C'mon, let's get you inside."

"C'mon, Sammy! C'mon!" The twins cheered, winding down the window to listen in. Stevie slid the door open, a bit too roughly for Mr. Evans liking.

"Sorry, daddy!" Stevie said hurriedly, before he could get the verbal tongue lashing due to him. "I'm just excited!"

"Let's go, New Directions! We have a bus to catch!" Rachel cheered, leading the group to the buses on the other side of the parking lot.

**O-O**

The drive wasn't long at all. With stop signs and slow speed limits considered, it only took them five minutes to get to the west lot. The yellow buses were parked around the corner, bright and clear as day against the gray, drab slot of concrete.

"Sam, before you leave, we need to talk about something important."

Sam paused, hand on the door handle. "Yes, Dad? What's up?"

Mrs. Evans looked back to check on the twins. They were sound asleep in their booster seats, tuckered out from the long and eventful weekend.

"First of all, we have to tell you how glad we are that you're alive and well. God knows you walkin' and talkin' right now is nothing short of fervent prayer answered. You and Mercedes have gone through the wringer," Mrs. Evans said.

"I know. I'm just grateful to get out in one piece." Sam replied with a short laugh. "Everything else is like an extra blessing. The whole experience was pretty surreal. Kind of trippy, really."

"I'll bet." Mr. Evans replied, chuckling with his son. "You two were brave. And whether you realize it or not, this weekend will change your lives forever. Things like this tend to either make or break people. You two seem to be coping just fine, and I'm happy to see that."

"I am, too. With a little more therapy, I should be fine, right?" Sam smiled, pulling the door open. Mrs. Evans reached back behind her chair to halt his hand.

"Which brings us to what we really want to talk about, Samuel." She said gravely. "You and Mercedes have endured a lot of pain and lasted through it, probably for the long haul, and we need to know what your intentions are with her."

"My intentions?" Sam questioned, yanking the sliding van door closed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Son, we know you. You're a feeling led kind of guy. You have a tendency to rush into things before you're ready for them. You see the whole picture and move without inspecting the details. Now, you've popped the question to other girls in the past...

"Mercedes isn't another girl. She's the one." Sam insisted, sitting up straighter.

Mrs. Evans smiled at his stern reflection in the rearview mirror. "We know that, dear. We never said she wasn't." He was so much like his father at that age, when he'd sat down in front of her dad and fought for their right to get married. "We just don't want you to do something crazy, like run the girl off to Vegas and get hitched without us knowing. We love her, and we love you both together, but now may not be the right time to make such an important decision."

Sam leaned back, a bit stunned. "I don't know. I guess I haven't really thought about what would happen after." Unbeknownst to his parents, he had already acted on his impulse before the incident. Her left hand already held the placeholder until he could afford the ring. "To be honest, I feel like I could marry her tomorrow. What's the big deal?"

"That's what we mean, Son. Marriage is a serious institution." warned Mr. Evans. "It's not ever something that you should enter into on a whim or a feeling. It's a life-long commitment. Your mother and I made that mistake when we were your age, and while we don't regret it now, it took a lot of work to get us to where we are now. I picked the right woman, but chose the wrong time. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Son?"

"I think so, sir," Sam said forlornly, staring at the silver string around his wedding finger. It had frayed a bit more, but still held every ounce of its original meaning. "How would I know when it's the right time, then?"

"When everything settles, and you have time to stop and think, the answer will come to you. It won't be sudden and passionate. It won't come in a heated kiss or a loving stare. It will be a conscious choice. Most times, wisdom will tell you _not yet._ But soon, that _ready _will come, and you'll have full faith in it." Mr. Evans replied, patting his son's cheek.

"Now, are we saying that you're too young to get married right now? Not at all. It may very well be okay for you. Are we saying that you shouldn't marry Mercedes?" Both turned to him, squinting their eyes in warning. "You better marry that girl, Samuel. That's the best thing to ever come along now. Don't be dumb."

"Okay, mom!" Sam laughed. Mr. Evans motioned to his eyes in an 'I'm watching you' motion. "I get it! Jeez, you guys are subtle."

His parents smirked at him. "We just want you to use your head and your heart together, Son. That's all." Mr. Evans assured him. "And when you're both seriously ready, we'll rejoice with you. Just...don't let the excitement of this weekend speed everything up. Give yourself time to think straight. Alright?"

"Yes, sir." Sam nodded. "I promise I'll think it out."

"My boy." Mr. Evans said proudly. "Now, get out of here before you start sprouting roots in our chair. You have a bus load of people waiting for you, including your lil' lady." The bus horn blared soon after, with Puck waving at them from the driver's seat. Mr. Schue ran up and shooed him away, pointing him to the back of the bus as he took his rightful place behind the wheel.

Sam kissed his brother and sister's sleeping foreheads, then his parents' cheeks, before preparing to leave.

"Oh, and Samuel?"

"Yes, Mom?" he answered.

She smiled and handed him a small grey velvet box. "When it happens, make sure you give her this. You have our blessing."

Sam curiously opened the box. Inside was a lovely white gold ring, with amethyst and diamonds littered throughout the band. The sparking jewels gradually grew larger in size as they met toward the open oval center, marrying around the largest diamond Sam had ever seen in his lifetime nestled in the middle. The gems around it looped and curled together in a never ending ring of infinity symbols, dazzling the eyes as well as the heart. Sam took it out and felt around the inside band. He gasped when the tell-tale Evans inscription graced his fingers, in elegant cursive.

"This was grammy's ring," he said in awe. "The one she used to talk about. The one you told me about."

Mr. Evans nodded, growing teary eyed. "Couldn't find it in me to pawn it. It was too special. I knew that she would have wanted you to have it someday." He sniffed and cleared his throat. "Only put it on one finger, Son. And never take it off, no matter what happens. You hear?"

"Yes, sir," Sam answered, still staring at the lovely ring. Mr. Evans had been denied the opportunity to give the heirloom to his wife. They were young and strong-willed, and had rushed through their nuptials without their family and friends. It wasn't until his mother passed that he'd even discovered the ring in his inheritance, and he knew that Sam would be the one to give it to his special lady when the time came.

Mercedes arrived sooner than all of them had expected, but Mr. Evans recognized the inevitable. He had taken the liberty of getting the ring resized for its new future owner.

"Thank you." Sam whispered to his parents, holding the sparkler to the sunlight. "Thank you so much."

**O-O**

Sam put the ring back in its rightful place and tucked the box in his pants pocket. As he made his way toward the bus, Puck ran out and met him halfway, wrapping Sam's arm around his shoulders to offer support.

"Dude, I'm fine. I can walk on my own," Sam insisted.

"Not my choice, man. Orders from your woman." Puck told him, patting his back as they walked. "You know, for someone so little, Mercedes is intimidating as hell."

"I heard that, Puck," Mercedes called out from the bus steps, hopping down to greet her boyfriend with a kiss. "How are you feeling? Dizzy? Lightheaded?"

"A little smothered, honestly!" Sam laughed, untangling himself from his friend and girlfriend. "Guys, relax! It's no big deal."

Mercedes scoffed. "No big _deal?_! Aren't you the same guy that almost got shot and just came out of the hospital for a head injury?" she sassily asked, hand on hip.

"Well, yes. But..."

"And, didn't this same guy just get stitches and pain meds to fix the pistol whipping he got only _yesterday?_" Puck asked Mercedes, talking around him like he wasn't there.

"Yup, he sure did, Puck." She nodded, staring right at Sam. "He must not understand how serious it all was, or how freaked out we were about possibly losing him. _Permanently..._"

"Okay, guys! I get it." Sam said, quieting them. "Thank you for caring about me. I just...I don't like to think about it. It makes me feel weird."

"Are you scared?" Mercedes asked. He didn't answer. "Baby, what's the matter? Is this what that scene in the hospital was about? I felt it." She softened when he looked away. "It's okay if you're scared, baby. It's perfectly normal. I'm still nervous about going back home. Everything's changed."

Sam still didn't answer. He simply patted Puck on the back and ushered him toward the bus doors. "I'm good, man. You can go inside."

"You sure?" Puck asked, looking back and forth between them.

Mercedes recognized the shimmer in Sam's eyes and nodded. "He's sure. You can go, Puck. I've got it from here."

Puck accepted it with a shrug. He recognized a dismissal when he heard one. Besides, they obviously needed to talk about something emotional, and he _hated_ being in the crossfire when people were expressing their feelings. "Call me if you need me, then."

Mercedes followed Puck with her eyes, watching until she was sure he was all the way inside. The bus doors closed, and Mercedes marched forward and forcefully pulled Sam into a tight hug.

"It's okay," she said quietly, kissing his cheek as she held him.

Sam's jaw clenched repeatedly. He looked off behind her, fighting the urge to break with all of his might. "I know it's okay, Mercedes. I'm still standing. You don't have to tell me that."

"Sam, please shut up and stop being stubborn." She leaned up to his ear and spoke gently, a soft caress of reason in his ear. "We made a promise to be honest to each other, even if the truth isn't pretty. Right now, I know you're standing terrified, because your arms are shaking so hard that we're both trembling. I also know that you don't want to tell me, because you refuse to let go of the stupid voice in your head that tells you you're wrong for being afraid. You're trying to be strong for me, but I'm giving you permission to let go and let me hold you, baby. I won't think less of you, Sam. I could never think less of you. Stop fighting."

Sam felt his face grow hot. The tremors intensified, and an involuntary groan left him when the first tear slipped down his left cheek. Mercedes leaned back to cup his face in her hands. Softly, she rubbed their noses together. It had become a thing with them, ever since Sam left her to go to Kentucky. When that small part of their bodies touched, it was a simple reminder of the other's presence. In times of anguish, it reminded them to focus less on the problems around them and more on the loving solution standing in front of them. Each brick of his emotional wall slid and tumbled over one by one under the intensity of her gaze.

"It's _okay." _She assured him. "Do you trust me? It's okay here. It's okay." she repeated. "Let it go."

She would kiss him with every silent tear that fell down his cheek until, finally, he allowed himself to succumb and fell into her shoulder.

She wrapped her arms even tighter around him, rewarding his jaw and neck with kisses as she squeezed with all of her might. He weakly hugged her back, growing slack in her embrace as he cried.

It was embarrassing for him to think about how he looked in that moment. Sam could feel the curious eyes on them from the bus windows and knew, without a doubt, that his face was probably red as beet. But he couldn't stop letting go if he tried. Once one knew freedom, how could they ever willingly return to the prison that held them captive? It felt so good to have someone recognize his pain when he couldn't, to trust someone enough to unburden everything on and know that they would keep it all in confidence. Mercedes loved him even when he wasn't strong. She loved him more for the reality of him. It was liberating...and frightening. Every underlying fear and anxiety he'd harbored bubbled to the surface. Thoughts he didn't realize were haunting him came to light once she gave him permission to acknowledge them.

"I could have died, Mercy," he cried, snuggling deeper into her neck. "I could have been gone yesterday. I could have lost everything. I could have lost you, baby."

Mercedes looked to the heavens, silently thanking God for his grace as her chin quivered. "I know," she replied, her voice breaking. "I think about that all the time."

He sniffled, tightly squeezing her waist. "I wouldn't have seen you again."

Mercedes shuddered, tucking her face into the shelter of their embrace. That reminder of how quickly everything could have changed brought up some unresolved fears of her own. "I don't know what I would have done. Sam, I don't know how I would've gone on if I had to watch him kill you."

"But I'm not dead. I'm right here." He kissed her shoulder, pulling her sweater aside to reach her bare skin.. "I'm alive and right here and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

"You better not, Sam." She warned. "You better stay right here with me."

He nodded, squeezing her once more before he pulled back to wipe her eyes. "And I am going to fuss and obsess and occasionally smother you, but it's only because I care about you more than anything and it's the only way I know how to stay sane."

Sam laughed, drying his face in his sleeve. "In that case, I promise not to complain too much."

"You better not complain at all." She demanded, tenderly touching his cheek. "I nearly collapsed in that theater. I had to count the panic attack away in my head. It was the only thing that kept me standing. That, and the fact that you were still breathing." She stared at him for a while, and slowly, the tiniest bits of humor drained from her face. She stepped forward and combed back his bangs with her fingers. Her thumb grazed his wound and lingered, running back and forth over the bumps of sewn skin concealed by the bandage. "I guess we have another scar to add to the collection, huh?" she asked softly.

Sam nodded. "I guess so. A pretty huge one at that." He'd caught on quickly to the fact they weren't talking about stitches at all. "It'll heal soon, though."

Mercedes sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned into his forehead. "How long will it take, you think?"

"Not long," he whispered, pulling her in to rest his chin atop her head. "Not nearly as long as we think it will."

Her eyes opened, and she smirked at the unconscious paring of his shirt with her nail polish. It was the exact same shade of jade green and they hadn't even planned it. "I believe that," she said, tapping her adorned wedding finger against his shoulder. "I have to believe that."

They stood quietly in each other's arms for a while, reflecting on everything and nothing in particular, before Mercedes interrupted the silence.

"Hey."

Sam leaned back, meeting her eyes. "Yeah?"

She sucked in her top lip, anxiously nibbling, before she replied. "Daily reminder that I love you."

And in that instant, Sam wondered if God himself had inspired the conversation his parents had with him mere minutes ago. His heart felt full to bursting for the woman in front of him. The words _marry me_ blared in the forefront of his mind, loud and boisterous as ever. The ring box suddenly felt too heavy for his pocket. He could hijack the bus and drive them to the nearest chapel right now to make her his. He could cut away the promise on her hand and replace it with something solid and precious and permanent. Right now, right this second, she could be his Mrs. Evans.

"I love you too, Mercedes Jones." he replied, and the entire near death experience made him realize how selfless that love truly was. For the first time in his life, he had someone that loved him just as fiercely and insanely as he loved them. Sam never once had to worry that she'd disappear. Her dedication was extreme. She was willing to take a bullet for him, to _die _with him, without hesitation. He could sit with Mercedes and envision their future together, and she saw it all as clearly as he did. It was never an _if _with her. It was always a _when._

"_Wait."_ said the quiet voice guiding his mind and heart. "_Wait."_

His proposal could wait. He wouldn't be selfish with her. He would give her the courtesy of a well thought out proposal, with wine and candles and all the works. He'd get her daddy's blessing. Her mama would be their first call, and she'd cry on the phone because she too had waited a long time for their moment. He'd give her a story to tell her friends, and their children, and children's children for years to come. Because Mercedes wasn't just anybody. She was the true and indisputable keeper of his heart. The real ring could wait until they were both ready.

Love—_real_ love— never fails, dear ones. It scars and wears thin and grows old, as many precious things do, but it never fails.

O-O

An unfamiliar set of arms wrapped around their waists, startling them. Mercedes craned her neck to find a tear-ridden Sugar resting against her back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I just..." She let go and stepped back, looking to the floor in embarrassment. "I was scared, too."

Sam and Mercedes looked at her, then each other, and opened their arms to let her in without hesitation. She jumped in eagerly, happily wiggling in their embrace. Santana came down and stood in front of the steps, awkwardly watching the scene.

"Is there any room left or..."

Mercedes smiled, beckoning her over with her finger. "There's always room for you, Tana. C'mon, girl. "

Santana walked into the little circle, kissing her friend's cheek. "Talk about a close call, huh? We'll be telling our kids about this one." She reached over, playfully punching Sam's shoulder. "Wouldn't have been the same without you, Trouty."

He smiled. "Tell me about it. Who else could you use those awesome Lisa Rinna jokes on?" He gently punched her back. "I'm glad that I'm still here to hear them."

Tina and the rest of new directions climbed down the bus steps, watching by the doors. "Ahem."

The circle of heads turned to face her. Sam rolled his eyes, chuckling at the eagerness on his friend's faces. They looked like happy puppies.

"Bring it in, you dopes." He laughed, letting go of Sugar's hand to let them in. Everyone rushed in all at once, bombarding them with embracing arms. Mr. Schue and Mike brought Artie down and set up his wheelchair, placing him in the center of all the love.

"I hope we're still cool?" Artie asked Mercedes, clearly uncertain. "I'm sorry about everything before. I can't imagine losing you guys and never getting the chance to apologize. Too scary."

"It's forgiven." she answered. "And I can't imagine losing any of you period."

"We've came pretty close, though." Tina added.

"When I saw that gun, I thought for sure that one of us was going to get a bullet. A near loss like that really puts things into perspective, you know?" said Rachel, leaning on Puck's shoulder.

"How so, my Yiddish compadre?" Puck asked.

"It brought back every mean thing that I've ever said or done. When he pointed it at me, I didn't see_ my_ life flash before my eyes. I saw the lives I'd affected instead." Rachel eyed each of her friends sadly. "I've been horrible, haven't I?"

"_Well,_ since you brought it up..."

"We've _all _done stuff we're not proud of, Santana." Finn quickly replied, dodging Santana's harsh rant. "Especially to each other. We've been the best of friends and the worst of enemies, all in the same week."

"Week?" scoffed Kurt. "Try day."

"Try hour." Blaine added. "Glee club must be one of those ironic names."

The crew chuckled.

"But really guys, for the record." Rachel said seriously. "If we leave out today and crash into some fiery inferno or die of some rapidly spreading incurable mutant virus..."

"No more Explorer channel for Rachel," muttered Finn, wrapping an arm around a giggling Brittany.

"I want you all to know how sorry I am for all the stuff I've said that I didn't mean. I'm sorry if you ever thought for a second that I didn't care about you or that I would push our friendship aside to pursue my own selfish ambitions. Dinner theatre or Broadway, I always want you guys by my side. I want you to be there for my shows and have you invite me to sing at your weddings. I want our kids to grow up together and ask us why they call us uncle and aunt when we're not related. I want to share embarrassing stories and pictures with them from days like this. Our highlight years," Rachel said sincerely. "And I want to be able to talk about you and smile during my E true Hollywood story, when they ask me about the people that changed my life. It's here. It's right now. It's you guys."

Everyone smiled, with a few sniffles and cleared throats chorusing throughout.

"You mean you could have gotten all of this before if someone just held a gun to your face? Why the hell didn't we think of that?"

"TINA!" laughed Mercedes, pushing her away. Everyone laughed.

"No, I joke. Ditto to all of that. I want all of those things, too."

"Me too." added Sugar.

"Why don't we make a pact?" Finn suggested.

"Great idea, Finn. A commitment pact to each other," interjected Mr. Schue. "No matter where we are or what happens we'll always find a way to come back together. You kids have been the highlight of my career, and I hope that someday you'll come to think of me as more than your teacher."

"What, you want that job of being the creepy loser that lurks in the shadows during class reunions? Because I'm pretty sure either you or Figgins already has that position in the bag," sassed Santana.

"No, Santana. I hope to be your friend," he laughed. "I hope to see all of you grow up and make something of yourselves. I want to see you all enjoy life and become successful."

"Yeah, and then we could have kids and send them to your class to learn how to sing and dance. Then, we could get them their own TV show, build a cult following, and get hoards and hoards of geeky teens and pedophiles to follow them on twitter," suggested Brittany. "Wait...do they have a twitter in the future?"

"You know what cult means?" Joe asked seriously.

"You want pedophiles following our kids?" asked Santana.

"Britt, no disrespect, but I highly doubt America would be interested in watching a bunch of kids doing our lame Glee performances." replied a doubtful Sam.

"Why not?" asked Mercedes. "They already have performance shows like that. I'm sure our kids would be just as talented."

"Even more talented!" added Rachel.

"Yeah, but who in their right mind would forego dancing celebrities and hot crime dramas to watch a bunch of high schoolers sprout acne and make out?" asked Kurt. "I mean, aside from being adorable, what would they do? Brood and sing their every emotion down crowded hallways when no one's paying attention? Form committed relationships one week, then break up and not speak to each other with absolutely no explanation at all? Give has-been guest stars crappy one liners and empty story lines to boost ratings? It would be a train wreck!"

Brittany thought about it, and then laughed at her own logic. "Yeah, I guess that was pretty stupid, even for me. But we could still put them in a band and they could win the 40th season of X-factor."

"Hey guys, I've got a better idea. How about we pray about it?" Joe suggested, redirecting the conversation. "The pact I mean, not...not the X-factor part. That is, if everyone is cool with it."

"I'm good." Kurt replied, surprising the rest. "What? I may not believe in the big guy, but I know that something or someone got us away from Donovan, alive and in one piece. I think we owe the universe a favor to commit to this as formally as possible. Let's do it."

Everyone shrugged and joined hands. At Joe's nod, every head bowed and eye closed, ready for prayer.

"Father God, we..."

Joe paused mid-sentence. Mercedes raised her head, curious about the interruption. Wordlessly, their eyes met and he gestured over his shoulder. Mercedes followed his gaze to the sunset, where a fiery, wavy mass of hair glowed in the cast of golden light.

Sam felt his girlfriend's energy change and opened his eyes as well. When he looked where she looked, he anticipated the worst.

"Hold off on the prayer, guys," he announced to the group.. "We have company."

One by one, each member looked up, watching a terrified Erin walk from her parents' car toward them. She took slow steps, one careful foot after another, until she was just short of reaching them. If she had reached out, she would've been able to rest her hand on Mercedes's shoulder. It was a safe distance away. Mercedes was still untouchable.

"I wrote you letters." She said quickly, eager to fill the silence. "I sat for hours everyday, trying to find the right words to say how truly sorry I am. I wrote how much your friendship changed my life, and how stupid I was for ever thinking that you didn't value it. I reminded you of the talks we'd had and all I'd shared with you, and I could smack myself for acting the way I did. You had never betrayed my trust before. You never thought to use anything I'd told you against me. You could have, but you didn't. You're my friend. You care about me. I see that now." she told her. " And I begged you...in this letter...to come out with me for ice cream, like old times. I want the chance to apologize properly. I'd even get you three scoops instead two this time. Because, good things always come in threes, right?"

Mercedes merely blinked at the failed attempt of a joke.

" To be honest, I anticipated the day that you'd fail me. I know it's wrong and I shouldn't have, but I'm not used to having good things last. Good things—good people—they're not supposed to find someone like me. Finding out about my brother was...it was the failure I was looking for." Erin moved to continue, but faltered, hugging herself as she thought. "I've lost a lot of people that I care about in my life. I realize now that I should cherish the good things when they happen. You're a good thing, Mercedes. I can't afford to lose you. And even though I don't think that I deserve your friendship, I have to try and get it back. I can't let it go when I know that I have the power to fix it. So...this is me, attempting."

Mercedes's eyebrows rose. She stepped forward, away from the circle, and joined her. "And you explained all of this...in a letter?"

"Well, I tried to, but I ran out of paper." Erin awkwardly laughed. "The words wouldn't come out right. Then I thought, '_Erin, you should probably just say them in person_'. So, here I am. I know I usually talk a lot, so words failing me is, like, _rare_, but I kept trying and trying to organize my thoughts so they would make sense and ironically it all makes perfect sense now that I'm standing here talking to you with sweaty palms and a heart ready to beat out of my chest, so I guess nerves is what I needed to..."

"Erin, please stop talking. You're rambling," Mercedes calmly ordered. Her mouth shut immediately. "How did you find out that I knew who your brother was?"

Erin's gaze fell to the floor. "You called him Donovan. I've never told you his full name, not once. I've only called him Donnie since I was little. I didn't even remember his whole name until I showed you his picture and you said it. Then, you had this strange look on your face, like you'd seen a ghost or something. I knew it was weird, but the dots didn't really connect until I decided to do some research. I saw the story on the news and read it on the internet and...put two and two together." She answered. "If I didn't do that, I would've had no idea. I guess that's what made me so mad. My brother would have been alive and well, the entire world would have known about it, and I would've had no idea."

"Did the police call you to come up here?" Mercedes asked.

Erin nodded. "A little after I found out, they showed up at our door. They offered to fly me up to New York on a chopper. They said that my brother needed me. I'd just found out he was alive, and all of a sudden I needed to be his sister again. It was all so overwhelming. My parents flew down with me. We got here in less than two hours." She pointed to the running engine parked behind her. "They're waiting by in the rental to drive me back home, but I told them I had to stop here first. We just came from seeing Don—I mean, my brother." She wiped away the tears as quickly as they ran down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry for what he did to you, Mercedes. And you must hate looking at me because of how he hurt you, but...I had to try to fix it between us. You're the best friend I've ever had. I had to give it a shot."

Mercedes nodded slowly, taking in all she said. Her expression gave Erin no answers. Sam and Artie couldn't even interpret a thing from her face, and they knew her well.

"Well, you did come and tell me, so there's that." she answered in a neutral tone. "I'm glad you came and told me."

Growing fearful, Erin anxiously ran up to hug her, crying hysterically in her shoulder. "Please. I'm not him, Mercedes. I'm so sorry for what I did...for what my family did to you. I didn't mean any of it, I swear! Please don't be mad!"

"Please let go, Erin. I never said that I was mad." Mercedes said calmly. Erin stepped back, holding herself together as best she could under the circumstances.

"Joseph, could you come here?" Joe pointed to himself, surprised to hear his whole name, before running over to Mercedes.

"Yes?"

"Before Erin came, what were we doing?" She asked, as if the answer escaped her.

"Um...we were about to pray?" he answered, frowning. "You know that."

"What for?" she said coolly, turning to face him.

"For us," he slowly replied. " That we would stick together, no matter what happens. We'll honor our friendship with the loyalty it deserves."

"Exactly. _Loyalty." _she replied, turning back to Erin. "Friendship requires a great deal of commitment."

"Mercedes, what are you doing?" Sam whispered to her, touching her shoulder and watching Erin slowly come undone at her words. Artie wheeled between her and Joe, patting her right thigh.

"C'mon, baby girl. Don't do Erin dirty like that. Have a heart." he begged softly. He hurt for her.

Mercedes silenced them with a wave of her hand. "What was that quote you shared with us again? That quote about friends and sticking by them?" She asked Joe.

"Oh, um..." he wracked his brain for the exact wording. "Friendship isn't about who you've known the longest, it's about who came and never left your side."

"Hmm," she nodded. "What an appropriate quote for today."

"I didn't, Mercedes! I was always your friend!" Erin tearfully insisted, grabbing her hand. "Always!"

Mercedes nodded again, squinting as she observed her. "I've learned alot about friendship these past couple of months, Erin. A real friend doesn't bow out when things get difficult. They don't leave because their feelings were hurt. Friendship takes work, lots of effort, and plenty of communication. You understand?"

"I do." Erin nodded desperately. "I do understand."

"And friends who give up on you...well, they're not worthwhile friends at all, are they?" Mercedes asked her.

Erin's eyes grew wide with hurt. Her lips trembled, blood red from her efforts to bite back her cries. "This is goodbye, isn't it?" she asked solemnly. "Is this goodbye?"

"Goodbye?" Mercedes scoffed. "After all we've been through? After all you've done for me? You think one little misunderstanding and not talking to me for three days is gonna get rid of that?"

Erin frowned, completely puzzled. "What?"

"Guys, do you think we could make a little more room for Erin in the circle?" Mercedes yelled back. "I really think that she should be a part of this."

"You're not mad at me?" Erin asked, hoping. Mercedes simply walked her over to the circle, lacing their fingers together.

"I told you. Worthwhile friends don't give up on you." She smiled. "And, we're friends, aren't we?"

Erin squealed and jumped in her arms, holding her shorter friend tight. "For as long as you'll have me!" she said.

Mercedes laughed, returning her hug. "How about we start with fifty years, and then renegotiate our terms? I should have told you the truth. I'm sorry, too. I just couldn't bear to take away the happy memories you had of your brother. You always brightened so much when you talked about him. I couldn't figure out how to tell you that he'd hurt me. i knew it would hurt you far worse. I'm so sorry you had to find out that way, Erin. I can't imagine..."

Erin nodded in her shoulder. For a while, she simply rocked in her embrace. Then, they grew still, and Mercedes felt the droplets on her shoulder before the group could hear the psob.

"It's okay, Erin." Tina said lowly, rubbing her back. "It's okay."

"We all make mistakes, honey," Santana assured her, smoothing her hair. "But friends understand that. We stick by you."

Artie wheeled up and held her hand. "We're gonna be right here. What happened was not your fault, Erin."

The irony of Artie's words struck Mercedes right away. A few months ago, she had been Erin, crying in her mother's arms as she told her the same thing. Back then, she couldn't believe her. How could something so terrible _not _be her fault? How could something that happened to her own body be outside of her control? It was too difficult to comprehend, let alone accept as truth.

Then, Bee happened. And Sam happened. Then God and her friends happened. And here she was, standing in a circle of her closest confidantes, comforting the sister of her attacker and calling her friend.

She was the one healing a hurt.

Isn't it funny how life comes full circle that way? She should have been a walking tragedy. She and Sam shouldn't have worked out the way they did. Her friends should have left her once they knew, or even once Donovan decided to sabotage the rehearsal room. She should be huddled in her room now like she was then, depressed and hurting, trying to cover up her pain and fake a smile so she could continue life.

Instead, she was _living. _Her boyfriend declared his undying love, stood by her, and adamantly claimed her hand in marriage the moment she said she was ready. Her friends fought for her (literally) and dedicated an entire performance to sexual abuse because it was something that mattered to _her_. She found Bee and the girls and spoke about her issues. She dealt with her pain instead of burying it, and came out a better person than she was before all of this happened. Her life was a testimony. The very fact that she was standing today is nothing short of a blessing. And the One who controlled everything—the One who saw the attack happen, watched her break down and gather the fragmented pieces of herself after Donovan had hurt her—loved her enough to give her back everything she'd lost and then some. Everything she thought he'd taken from her, God had returned, tenfold and stronger than ever.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," she said softly, closing her eyes. "It's not your fault. It was never, ever your fault."

The darkness had lifted.

_Hallelujah._

**O-O**

Joe beckoned everyone else over. They all joined hands and bowed their heads, surrounding a sniffling Erin resting in Mercedes's embrace. She began to hum _This Little Light of Mine _softly in her ear, knowing it would bring her comfort.

"You remembered," Erin whispered, smiling.

The steady, soulful sound created the perfect atmosphere for their commune with God.

"Father...Daddy...Abba...We love you so much," Joe began, "We ask that you look down upon us this day and smile. We've been through so much as a group, suffering from the hand of the enemy in more ways than one. But Lord, I'm grateful that we're standing. I'm grateful for the strength you've placed in each of us to endure until the end. We were each other's support when foundations shook, each other's backbone when our bodies grew weary and lifeless, and breaths of fresh air in times when our worlds were clouded with filth. Father, I pray that we never lose that. I pray that we always seek to uplift and support one another. Let us never lose the fight in our spirits. Help us to recognize the attacks on our friendships for what they are, mere attempts to make us weak. Together we are strong, and I pray that we will always recognize the strength of our union. Continue to help us, Abba, in times when we don't know. Be our eyes in the darkness of this world. Help us to be lights, illuminating the way for others. Most of all, help us to always remember that we are more than just friends. We are family. And in the heart of this family, may we always find you. In the Savior's name we pray, amen."

"Amen," chorused the group, reaching out to join in the embrace.

**O-O**

The New Directions silently boarded the bus one after the other, reflecting on the promise laid out in prayer. The still, loving mood lasted well into the trip home. Seating arrangements had changed, and the changes were understood and respected without discussion. Friends that haven't spoken in a while huddled together in groups of twos and threes to reconnect, mending any broken bridges between them. Joe even had the presence of mind to call Rory and check in on him. He may have left the group out of fear, but Joe still considered him to be one of their friends. He put the Irishman on speaker when he answered, letting everyone on the bus voice their greetings and fill him in on all that happened.

Six hours into the trip, everyone fell asleep in their new seats, huddled together under blankets. Tina sat sandwiched between a snoring Kurt and Blaine, with Mike sitting between Quinn and Finn in the seat across from them. Santana and Rachel shared a blanket and pillow, leaning against each other's heads as they noisily snored. Erin decided to forego the trip back with her parents in favor of riding with her new buddies. She rested in Artie's embrace, sleeping against his left shoulder. A droopy headed Brittany slept on his right.

Joe and Sugar looked quite comfortable nestled against the window-perhaps a bit more comfortable that most were used to seeing them. Mercedes noted the way his arms wrapped around Sugar's shoulders, and how contently the brunette smiled as she snuggled against his chest. It was exactly how she and Sam slept on long car rides. The sleepy, unconscious kiss Joe gave Sugar's forehead confirmed her suspicions.

She internally cheered, bursting to share the good news of their coupledom. Unfortunately, her seat in the back made gossip difficult. Her girls were too far to reach, the boys wouldn't care or understand, and she didn't want to call anyone to wake them up. That would be highly inconsiderate.

"Sam! Psst...Sam!" she shook her sleeping boyfriend, slapping his shoulder. Mercedes pouted when he didn't respond . She grabbed her pillow and swung, hitting him in the chest.

"Sam!" she whispered again. Still no answer. Growing frustrated, she threw the pillow in his face, hoping to startle him awake. Her slumbering boyfriend barely budged. The pillow pathetically bounced off his forehead, rolled down his chest, and landed in his lap.

"Log head." She grumbled. Mercedes slid closer to him, changing her tactic with a tickle to his neck. Still nothing.

"Sam?" Mercedes suddenly remembered everything the doctor told them about latent coma symptoms and warning signs. "Sam, wake up." She grew anxious when she shook him harder and he still didn't open his eyes. "Sam? Baby, please wake up."

Sam began to stir, moaning as he stretched and twisted about. Mercedes sighed in relief when his bleary eyes opened.

"Infuriating woman." He yawned, too sleepy to sound truly upset. "Why won't you let me sleep? I only got about two hours off and on in the hospital."

"I tried to wake you to tell you something, but you didn't wake up." she replied. "Then, your breathing sounded weird and I remembered what the doctor said about your head and I..."

"Mercedes." he deadpanned. "I am fine. I'm just tired." He sighed wearily, turning on his side to go back to sleep. "Leave me alone and let me rest."

She rolled her eyes, annoyed with his attitude. "I was just trying to make sure that you were okay. I wanted to share something with you. Excuse me for caring,"

Sam's eye popped open to check on her. The anger was false, but he could tell that her concern and worry were very real. With a long-suffering huff, he wrapped his fingers around her forearm, gently tugging her toward him. She stubbornly stayed put.

"Mercedes." He said lowly, giving her a look.

She side-eyed him. "What? Is my presence disturbing you too? Should I move?" she sassed.

"C'mon, babe." He pouted, tugging her to his chest. "Don't be that way."

"You're mean when you're tired." She pouted back, lying against him. "I don't think that I deserved that."

"No, you didn't. And I'm sorry." he replied, kissing her forehead. "What was so important?"

Mercedes looked up, stubbornly refusing to reply. Sam smiled and hugged her shoulders, kissing her all over.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, pressing his lips against her cheeks, chin and nose. She finally smiled when he kissed her lips, and she cupped her hand around his head to deepen his affections.

"Mmmm...forgiven." she moaned, licking her lips. She reached for the Superman blanket underneath her, lifting the corner and making room for herself underneath. Sam took the liberty of tucking her in, making an obvious effort to linger on the curve of her hip.

"I'm listening." he said smoothly.

Mercedes nodded toward the couple across from them. "Look at Joe and Sugar. What do you see?"

Sam halfheartedly gave the pair a once over. "A guy and a girl sleeping because they're tired. We should follow their example."

Mercedes sucked her teeth, resting her lips on his stubbly chin. "Be serious. Look."

He wearily raised his eyebrows. "All I see is you, baby." He smiled. Another, even larger yawn escaped him.

She yanked his chin down, physically prying his eyelid open with her fingers. "LOOK, Sam! What do you see? Don't they look extra close?"

He squinted his eyes at the huddled pair, pretending to intensely study them. He gave up trying to find whatever his girlfriend wanted him to look for. "I guess." He shrugged. "No closer than two good friends should be." He yawned again, his largest one yet, and asked, "What do you see Mercedes?"

"The obvious!" she whispered emphatically. Sam waited patiently for the punch line. "They've obviously started dating, Sam! I mean, look at Joe's arms. Don't you see how he's holding her? And the way Sugar is resting on his chest?"

"There's a _way _a girl can rest on a guy's chest? I thought resting was resting." He replied, closing his eyes. "Not that I would know proper resting from personal experience."

"_Lovingly_, Sam! She's snuggling into him. She's practically buried in his chest! I'm telling you, they're dating." She said surely.

"Awesome." Sam mumbled, turning his face into the cushion of the seat. "We'll bake them a cake and throw a party. Put their names on banners and have a parade."

"The real question is, why are they keeping it a secret?" Mercedes wondered aloud, completely missing Sam's weary sarcasm. "Why didn't they tell anybody?"

"Probably the same reason we didn't tell anybody when we first got together." Sam sighed, tucking the corners of his comforter tighter around them. "Too new. Too soon. Good things need to be protected."

She hummed in agreement. A brief lull drifted into their conversation. Sam's breathing started to even as he drifted off into a slumber.

"Sam?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, only half awake.

She raised her head to look up at his sleeping face. "Would you have preferred if we kept our relationship a secret? Y'know, for longer than we did? Do you regret telling people sometimes?"

Sam shook his head, moaning at the soft rub of her lips against his chin. "I wanted everyone to know. Still want that."

She smiled. "I want that, too."

"S'good," he replied with a slur, rubbing her arm. "We want the same things. Now sleep."

Mercedes sighed, lying back against his chest as her mind wandered. Sam started to lightly snore.

"Sam?"

"Woman!" he grumbled. "What is it?"

"Do people give you a hard time because you're dating me?"

His eyes popped open. "What do you mean?"

"Because I'm a big girl...because I'm black," she replied. "We never really talked about it. Does anyone say anything to you about it? Does it bother you?"

"Of course it doesn't bother me, Mercedes. You know that. No one's said anything to me." he assured her, sitting up. "Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know...I just thought about Derrick and the way Donovan and Eva said he died," she replied. "He just wanted to know who he was, you know? He only knew part of himself, and all he wanted was to find the other. Here, if you're black, you're black. If you're white, you're white. What was he? What would our kids be? How do people see us?"

Sam frowned. "I never really thought about it."

"And what about how we look? I'm short and fat. You're tall and athletic. We're not supposed to be together."

Sam grew defensive. "Says who? Did someone give _you_ a hard time about us?"

She felt him tense and rubbed his chest. "No, Sam. Relax," she said calmly. "I was just thinking."

"Oh." He visibly calmed, idly stroking her curls with his thumb. "Well, I don't care if anybody has a problem with it. It's our world. It's you and me."

"But it's not just you and me, Sam," she explained. "I've seen the ugly in this town. People who smile in your face will spit at me behind your back and you wouldn't even know it. You've never had someone put you down because of your color, Sam. I have. How are we gonna deal with those people? How are we gonna defend our relationship? Our marriage?How will our children grow up? What's their identity?"

"Whoa, you're throwing this at me all at once, darlin'!" he cried. "Ease up a second. Can I think?"

Mercedes nodded, lying back down as she waited for his answer. Unknowingly, she held her breath until he spoke.

"Well, like I said, I hadn't thought much about it." he answered. "To me, you've never been a color. I mean sure, I know you're black, but that's only been part of you. I love who you are, and your race is part of you, but it's not all of you, you know?"

"Mmhmm." She hummed, still resting against him.

"But, you're right. People won't see that. They won't see the love between us. They'll just see our differences. And if that's all that they see, then they're not people that we want to associate ourselves with, are they?" he replied.

"But that could be a lot of people, Sam." She told him, sitting up to look at him. "It might be people that surprise you. It could even be family."

"Someone in my family say somethin'?!" he cried, balling his fists.

"No, Sam!" Mercedes couldn't help but chuckle at his reddened face. "And you can't beat up everyone who doesn't love me like you do! We've got to deal with this, babe."

He sighed. "I didn't know it would be that hard."

She reached up to rake his hair back. "I know. But we can't pretend that it's gonna be simple, either." Just then, her phone alarm beeped. She took it out and unlocked her screen, shutting off the blaring horns.

"Time for ointment and a new bandage!" she sing-songed. Sam groaned, hiding under his covers. "Now c'mon, don't be that way. It won't hurt. Besides, I promised Mama Vic that I would take care of you."

Sam reluctantly handed her the tube from his pocket, coupled with fresh Q-tips and a sterile square bandage. "Now hold still, baby. I'm gonna peel the old one off."

Sam cringed, then hissed, as she peeled the sticky bandage back, exposing his stitches. He yelped when the tail end of the tape tugged on his wound.

"Ah! God!" he cried.

"Hold on. I'm sorry." She hushed him. "Hold still. This should help."

She took the Q-tip and squeezed a dime sized amount of ointment on its tip. With a soft blow to the angry flesh, she smoothed the medicine on, nice and slow. Sam sighed in relief.

"That feels so good." He moaned happily.

Mercedes amusedly chuckled. "And I only used a Q-tip. Imagine what I can do with my hands."

Sam laughed loudly, forgetting the sleeping patrons around him. "Oh, I bet!" he complimented. His voice fell to a whisper. "I _remember._"

"And remember that time we drove up to that new comic book store in Columbus and you _insisted_ that we christen the bathroom near the back of the store?" she reminded him, analyzing the skin around his wound for any pus or reddening.

"Oh, that one that was the employee bathroom? I told you to block the door with the trashcan!" Sam laughed. "That's what they do in all the movies!"

"And I told you to make sure it was a public bathroom! I knew there was something wrong with the door having a key. You shouldn't have to jump the counter to open the public restroom, Sam!" she laughed, laying down his fresh bandage. "If it wasn't for my hands, you would have been showing manager Bill a lot more than your lack of decorum!"

"If it weren't for your hands, we wouldn't have been in that mess." Sam's green eyes shone on her. "We're banned for life anyway, so it doesn't matter." His heart swelled, seeing the focus in her eyes as she dressed his wound. "You weren't even mad. You just found the next store in your GPS and drove us there."

"Where we found that limited first-edition Hawk-Eye that you went _crazy _over." she said with a roll of her eyes, smoothing the bandage over with her thumb. "I didn't get it at all, but you loved it so..."

Mercedes leaned back and sighed, smiling at her handiwork. "All done! And it didn't even hurt, did it?"

"Nope." he said softly, watching her as she packed everything away in his backpack on the floor. "It was easy."

As she sat up, he reached for her hands, lacing their fingers together.

"What are you doing?" she laughed, eyeing the curious expression on his face.

"This is what we are." He explained lifting their hands. "This is what I see. But the world, they see..." he laid their hands palm to palm, matching their fingers as best as he could. "This. They see our differences. They see us on opposite sides. But, when I'm with you, I can't see that. You're so perfect for me. We match in every way that matters. And everything different about you just makes being with you interesting. So, yeah. I know that there's black and white. I know there's tall and short. I know there's big and thin. But, when it's us, Mercedes." He laced their fingers together again. "We're just one hand. All I see is one hand. I thought my grip was perfect, until you slid into the spaces between my fingers and showed me what holding on truly meant."

Her eyes watered as she looked between their hands and his eyes. "That's beautiful, Sam," she whispered.

"And, if people around me can't see that and they give you a hard time, let me know. If they give me a hard time, I'll share it with you. And no, I can't promise that my first instinct won't be to knock them out, but I can promise you that I will consult you before I move. Whatever we do, whoever we fight, we've got to do it together Mercedes. I don't have all the answers now, but I do know that we have to figure it out together."

She smiled and released him, reaching up to cup his cheeks instead. "I'm very blessed." She told him.

"Why? Because of me?" he chuckled. "No sweetheart, you've got it wrong. I'm the lucky one, Mercedes."

Her smile faltered, and she leaned in to kiss him with all the passion and feeling she could muster. He hugged her shoulders and pulled her deeper, parting her lips to flick his tongue against hers. They both smiled.

"And our kids are gonna be so lucky, because they'll have a little bit of me and a little bit of you inside them." he whispered against her lips.

"Best of both worlds." She grinned.

"Best of both worlds." He nodded, leaning in for another kiss. "And that's what I'll tell them. We'll say that they're lucky enough to be birthed from love. We'll tell them that some people won't understand it, but that doesn't make it any less valid. I want them to love themselves for being both, not try to figure out if they're one or the other."

"Because they are both, and that's beautiful." Mercedes replied. She scrunched her face and giggled when Sam licked the tip of her nose.

"You're beautiful." He told her. He stared at her for a while, taking in every part of her expression. She was breathtaking. He counted the little lashes on the corners of her eyes, touched every mole on the sides of her neck until he'd felt them all. His thumbs gently stroked her eyebrows, loving the way her soft hairs feathered and curved to frame her face. The corner of his palm grazed on the corner of her mouth, sensing the exact moment when the skin around her mouth wrinkled as she smiled. Sam could feel her dimples sink and pucker on her cheeks. He was enamored with her.

"What are you thinking?" she asked him sweetly, kissing his wrist. "What's on your mind?"

He answered honestly. "I'm thinking...someday, I want us to have a daughter that looks exactly like you."

"Sam, stop..." Her face grew warm.

"No, I'm serious!" he insisted. "I told you that the day after the...when we made love that day. You were sleeping, but I told you and I swore I would tell you again when you woke up. Just give me one daughter with your eyes and your lips and your sweet spirit, and I'll be the luckiest man in the world. Screw the twenty kids. I'd be happy with one, as long as it's with you."

"You've gotta stop doing that, Sam." She blushed, looking down.

"What?"

"This! Making me feel so..." she struggled to find words to explain it. "I feel like I'm gonna burst with you. Like I'm gonna float out of my skin and drift away. It's such a weird feeling."

"Is it bad?" He asked.

"No, it's just...unusual." Mercedes explained. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you."

"I'm certain I've never met anyone like you." He chuckled. "I think I would remember."

Mercedes broke their gaze, looking anywhere but his eyes. They burned right through her, to the very marrow and bone. She fiddled with his shirt instead, twisting the taut material around her fingers.

"Can you sing for me, Sam?" she asked quietly.

"What do you want to hear?"

"Something? Anything?" She answered. "Anything you want me to hear. Something you want to tell me. I want to hear what your heart's saying now. Please?"

Sam nodded. "Why now, though?"

She ran her fingers up and down his chest. "I want this to be real. All my good memories have a song with them. I want to think of a song and always have you. If something happens to you...or to us..."

"On one condition." He cupped her chin, bringing her head up. "You have to look at me the entire time. No looking away. Agreed?"

"Okay," she answered feebly, already feeling herself sink into him. "I can do that."

Sam watched her, testing her, until he was sure her gaze would stay. Then he studied her, taking the moment in, until a song came to mind.

**When I look into your eyes**

**It's like watching the night sky**

**Or a beautiful sunrise**

**There's so much they hold**

Mercedes already felt like looking away, but the pull was too great. She let herself fall, allowed the sinking feeling in her stomach to envelop her.

**And just like them old stars**

**I see that you've come so far**

**To be right where you are**

**How old is your soul?**

And strangely enough, the fall wasn't frightening. In fact, it felt much like the roller coaster at the carnival, when the cars neared the edge and slowly toppled over into the first drop. The feeling thrilled her, made her heart work overtime in the most insane and exciting way. Sam's voice was calm and steady, but each word he sung to her left her soaring.

Joe started to stir in the background, waking from sleep. The couple hardly noticed him, far too focused on their moment with each other. He smiled at the familiar tune, then at the sleeping form leaning against him, and decided to join in the romantic spirit. He pulled out his guitar and started to play along.

**Well I won't give up on us**

**Even if the skies get rough**

Sam smiled when he heard the music play around them, catching Joe's strumming out of the corner of his eye. But he never looked away from his lady, not for a second. He wanted her to always remember what they have now. He wanted her to hear his promise to her, for now and the rest of their lives.

**I'm giving you all my love**

**I'm still looking up**

Sugar yawned and stretched, opening her eyes to Joe's nimble fingers plucking each beautiful note. Joe grinned at her and began to sing, joining Sam's voice in harmony as he serenaded the newly birthed affections between them.

**And when you're needing your space**

**To do some navigating**

The rest of New Directions had woken up when the music started. Finn knelt in his seat and signaled the rest to join in on the next verse. They nodded, spying over their seats as they waited for their turn. Quinn and Tina silently awed over the tender scene. Santana merely smiled. They all knew firsthand how difficult it was for Mercedes in the beginning. They were just happy to see a genuine smile on her face again.

**I'll be here patiently waiting**

**To see what you find**

Finn surprised them all by bellowing the next line. The rest of the crew loudly joined him. Even Will smiled and crooned behind the driver's seat, watching them from the rearview mirror. It probably wasn't the safest idea to have them all out of their seats like they were, but who cared? Love was sacrifice sometimes, wasn't it?

**'Cause even the stars they burn  
>Some even fall to the earth<br>We've got a lot to learn  
>God knows we're worth it<strong>

Sam sat silent and let them sing his thoughts. Without breaking their gaze, he took Mercedes' hand and kissed it, singing the next line solo.**  
>No, I won't give up<strong>

The loving notes played on. Mercedes took a moment to look at Sam and let her mind wander. It wasn't his song to her that took her aback. They had sung to each other plenty of times. It was the song itself, the words he'd chosen and the power behind them. It was the same boy she fell in love with over summer, yet he had somehow wholly changed. She supposed he had seen the same change in her, judging by the way he studied her.

This was her _man. _She was somebody's _woman. _And she wanted to give every part of herself to this man, to have him hold her and love her like a man does his woman. She wanted to be his, in every sense of the word.

**I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily  
>I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make<br>Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use  
>The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake<br>And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend  
>For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn<br>We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in  
>I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not, and who I am.<strong>

Sam felt a fire stirring in the very depths of him. Every word he sang to her held his passion. He meant everything. He wanted her to know that he wasn't going to leave when something difficult tried to come between them. He wanted her to understand that she was and always would be the one who held his heart. He wanted her to trust him with everything.

She _was_ his everything.

**I won't give up on us  
>Even if the skies get rough<br>I'm giving you all my love  
>I'm still looking up, still looking up.<strong>

Their friends swayed back and forth, accompanying Sam's tune with their delightful melody of voices.

**I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)  
>God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)<br>We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)  
>God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)<strong>

Sam hushed them with a flick of his hand. He had to sing the ending alone. This was about them. He wanted Mercedes to know that the world would always quiet around them if they wanted it to. No one would interfere with what they had.

**I won't give up on us  
>Even if the <strong>**skies**** get rough**

**I'm giving you all my love  
>I'm still looking up<strong>

Their eyes remained open as Sam leaned in and pressed their lips together. Mercedes refused to blink or look away. She simply melted into him, pulling in his shoulders and pressing herself against him. When they parted, he remained close, waiting for her response.

"Well?" he asked, nervously nibbling the corner of his mouth.

She took a breath, staring at his lips. "I…" She felt the eyes around them and turned her head. "Go away, nosy people!"

The New Directions playfully grumbled and complained, slowly lowering in their seats with mutters of "_Excuusse me!" _and "_Sorry for caring!"_

"They're dopes." Mercedes giggled.

"Yeah, they are." He cupped her chin, turning her back to him. "They just want us to work. I meant all I said, Mercedes. I don't plan on leaving you anytime soon."

"I know." She sighed, looking down. "And..."

"And?" he repeated, tapping her chin. She looked up and smiled, catching his thumb between her teeth and slowly dragging it through.

"And...what if I told you that I'm ready now?" she quietly replied. His eyes widened.

"Ready? Like, ready for...?" Mercedes nodded, lifting up to suck on his lip. Her tongue laved the soft flesh, delighting in its warmth.

"Ready for you." she replied. "Are you ready for me?"

His mouth gaped, struggling to form words. "I—I mean..." his breath caught. "Now, right?"

"Yes!" she giggled. "Is that so surprising?"

"No! I mean, kind of. I just...I wasn't expecting you to say that." He honestly answered. "That's awesome, baby. I'm glad you're ready."

Mercedes squinted, sensing his hesitation. "But?"

"But...I want this to be right. I want to do this right." He told her. "I want a bed, and candles, and soft music playing for you. I want to draw you a bath and take my time with you. I want you to remember."

"I will." she said softly. "It'll be perfect because I'm with you, Sam. I don't need all of that to make it special. It's right because it's you."

"I don't want you to hate me after." he said. He chuckled at her confusion. "I don't want regrets. I don't want us to look at that day ten years later and say, 'I wish we did this differently.' I want to plan this out."

"Okay." Mercedes nodded. "Would prom be enough time for you to plan this flawless date for us?"

"Should be." He smiled. "When I'm done with that Howard-Johnson hotel room, you're gonna think you stepped into paradise."

She hummed in contentment, leaning into his chest. "I can't wait."

Sam leaned back and held her, quietly thinking over his plans for their special day.

"Mercedes?"

"Yeah?" she asked, lovingly rubbing her cheek against his chest.

"...I can't sleep now."

It took both hands to hide her snorting laughter.

**O-O**

Near the tail end of their trip, Mercedes woke up, bright and fresh from her nap. The welcome sign for Lima sped past her sight as she opened her eyes. She snuggled deeper into Sam's chest, feeling utterly relaxed.

Sam didn't have the same luck in the sleep department. Since her confession, all he could think about was what scent body scrub to put in the bathroom for her bath or what body oil he wanted to massage into her skin. He thought about the sheets and what material they should be. Silk is sexier, but cotton is warm and lighter for summer. Should he light candles? What color rose petals and how many? Should he scatter them all over the bed, or would that be too cliché?

The small room they'd reserved no longer seemed big enough to hold all of his plans.

He felt her stir and stroked her hair, twirling a barrel curl around his pinky.

"So, just so we're clear." He began, catching her full attention. "When you say ready, you mean ready as in..."

"I mean ready as in I want you _inside _me, Mr. Evans." She quietly answered, stealing a kiss. "Can you handle that? Are you sure you're ready for me?"

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "Am I sure I'm ready for her, she says..." He cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him, nuzzling her chin. She purred happily in his arms, reveling in the attention.

"I've been ready for you, Ms. Jones, since Moses himself walked Egypt and split the sea." He said. The vibration of her giggles tickled his nose. "I've been ready for you my entire life. I just didn't know it until we finally got to meet." He kissed all the way up to her ear. "And I promise you, I will always be ready..." His tongue flicked the curve of her earlobe. "Anytime you want me."

"Anytime?" her eyes closed when he blew against the wet flesh. She shivered, feeling the rush of flame in her core from the cooling of his breath.

"In any way, on any surface, in any position..." He kissed the shell of her ear and said in the softest of voices. "However fast you want...however slow you want...until you've had your fill of me."

"Promises, promises." She whispered back, rubbing her cheek against his stubble.

"Them's guarantees, for your information." He corrected. "You should really be asking yourself if you're really ready for me, because if you are, I'm gonna need at least a day to make up for lost time."

"An entire day? And you'll be satisfied? That's not the Sammy I remember." She teased. "And what makes you think I'll be done with you in a day, Evans? You're lucky if you remember how to walk a week after I have my way with you."

His eyes flickered to hers, darkening in desire. "Is that a challenge, love? You know how I like a good challenge."

"Them's guarantees, for your information." She fired back. He shuddered against her, thinking of all that meant.

"Damn, Mercy. You can't keep doing these things to me in public. It's so rude to get me all worked up when I can't...relieve the tension." He groaned when her knee slid up his thigh, nudging the hardening between his legs.

"I thought you liked audiences, daddy." She retorted, sliding her fingers up and down his bare arm. "I thought you liked it when I teased you."

"Oh, that's low, Mercedes." Sam growled, hissing and scooting his hips away from her. "That's just cold. You're gonna use the daddy on me?"

"I'm gonna make you cry, Mr. Evans." She sung, pulling his chin lower and lower until he rested against her cleavage and could smell her perfume. "And you're gonna love every minute of it. I swear it, daddy." Mercedes dragged him back up to her mouth, and took the liberties of licking and kissing the corners of his pout. "You're gonna forget every month you've had to wait for it."

Without thinking, Sam pulled her into his lap and ground her hips against his. She gasped when he began to softly thrust, holding her tightly around her waist as he nipped her lip.

"Woman." He growled, just before snaking his tongue down her throat. It wasn't until they heard someone clear their throat that they remembered where they were. Mercedes slid off of Sam's lap and straightened her clothes. Sam pulled at the collar of his shirt, letting some air in to cool down. Both were still too overwhelmed to look at each other, but their smiles were shameless.

Santana slow clapped the performance. "Bravo. I saw the sex tape, but the live version is epic." She said, tongue in cheek. "Now, I would never stop a good show, but…..I think you're scaring the virgins."

Santana pointed out the wide-eyed Joe and shocked Sugar watching beside them. When they realized that they had been spotted, the two perused their bags for any books they could find and stuffed their noses in them as quickly as possible.

"Sorry, guys." Mercedes said, feeling slightly embarrassed that they had been caught by their friends. "We didn't mean for you to see that."

Sam shrugged, leaning back against his arm. "Oh, well. Maybe they learned something."

"Sam!" Mercedes swatted his chest, falling into him as she laughed. "So rude!"

"Hey, it's the truth! If I feel like lovin' on you and they happen to be there, well…..education." He casually replied. "Besides, we're sexy."

Santana rolled her eyes, sinking back into her seat. Sugar and Joe maintained their cover with steely focus. Their eyes never left their books for a second.

After a quiet moment, Sam's smile fell away as he replayed Santana's words in his mind. "What sex tape is she talking about, Mercy?"

"The choir room, babe." She scandalously whispered. "Santana destroyed all the evidence, but I should have known filthy mcnasty would have taken a peek first." She slapped the seat in front of them. Santana waved a hand above her seat.

"Sorry, I'm not sorry!" she cried.

Mercedes wrapped both of Sam's arms around her. "We've been caught on candid camera, baby." She chuckled. "Don't worry. If she has any copies, I'll wrestle them from her later. No one will ever know that they existed."

Sam nodded and closed his eyes, pulling her close. After a beat, his eyes popped open again, frown returning.

"So, Santana….can we get a copy of that on dvd? Or post it somewhere?"

"SAM!"

"Well, Jorge did want to try his hand at adult films." Santana replied, considering the possibilities."You're eighteen now, right Sam? Legal?"

"SANTANA!"

**O-O**

**LOL, right? This was so much fun to write.**

**For my readers who follow me on Tumblr, I will post a special sneak peek of next chapter, to make up for the long wait. For those that have read my note on my tumblr page, I am setting a goal of updating the 24****th**** of each month. It will give me a deadline, give you an expected publish date, and keep everyone happy. If I finish earlier, I will update earlier. If I'm ever running late (and I'll try my best not to), I will let you know on my page. **

**Tell me what you think about the update in your reviews! Your words are my sunshine. **

**Tumblr Name: Ez2luvme**

**Song credit: "I won't give up" by Jason Mraz**


	27. Chapter 26 Acceptance (2 of 3)

**A/N: Thank you guys for your patience and constant love. Life got in the way, and I couldn't find inspiration anywhere. **

**But, by the grace of God, I've finished what I've set out to finish, and I really invested all of my heart into this chapter. I hope you like it! **

**The remainder of prom and the promised "sensual" chapter will be in the next update. I'm sure you'll be satisfied with what I've included in this one. **

**O-O**

_**Two weeks later...**_

_(Four days before prom)_

"Guys, what do you think about this one for prom?"

Mercedes, Tina, Santana, and Kurt's eyes widened when they saw the yellow peacock eyesore Brittany pranced out in, complete with feathered tail and multicolor hat.

"Um..."

"Brittany, babe..."

"I don't think that's the right...look?"

"What the girls are trying to say without saying it is that the dress is a fashion travesty. You might as well be wearing a rotting meat dress," Kurt critiqued, circumventing the bullshit. "You look like a peacock fucked a rainbow and slaughtered their lovechild all over cheap polyester."

"Is that bad?" asked Brittany. Their answering looks made her plop to the floor. "This is like the millionth dress I've tried on, guys! I'll never find the perfect prom dress by this weekend. And then the students are gonna riot because of my poor fashion choices and they'll kick me out of office and I won't get to keep my cool parking spot in front of the dumpsters," she said forlornly.

"Babe, don't give up. We'll find something for you." Santana encouraged, meeting her on the floor in the glittering, blood red, off the shoulder number she had chosen as her dress. "Maybe we should try that other place up the street?"

"Don't even bother. All of their good dresses are sold out." Rachel yelled from the dressing room. She stood on her toes and peeked over the door. "The lady there told me that girls had their dresses reserved months in advance."

"Aw, I knew it! This is the only place I have left! If I can't find it here, I'm not going!" Brittany fell back with a flourish, tossing her full skirt in the air until it fanned around her. "Prom sucks already."

"Why didn't you just come with us last month when we went to the city?" Mercedes asked, sitting between Tina and Kurt in the waiting chairs across from them. "There were so many dresses to choose from. We could have found one there for you without a problem."

"Yeah, we all found ours in one trip," added Tina. "Kurt and Blaine found their tuxes there, and _Quinn _even found something she liked. You know how near impossible that is."

"I couldn't come then. The last _Felines Anonymous _meeting is mandatory!" she cried.

Tina squinted at her. "What exactly do you _do _at a Felines Anonymous meeting?"

"Tina, you know I can't tell you that. It's anonymous! Duh!"

"Of course it is." Tina muttered, rolling her eyes. Tired, she sighed and twirled the rope handles of her shopping bags, ready for this day to be over. They had really come out to buy their accessories and jewelry for prom, but once Brittany mentioned that she hadn't gone shopping because prom wasn't until _next_ month, their accessory trip turned into a shopping emergency. How this woman was president of prom committee and didn't know when prom _was _still baffled Tina. "Why don't you try on that aquamarine one again, Brit? The clingy backless one with the crystals?"

"Yeah, I liked that one!" Kurt chimed in, eager to leave himself. "It really made your eyes pop!"

Brittany dropped back, staring at her pathetic expression upside down in the vanity mirror. "I can't wear that one." She sighed, eyeing her pout from every reflective angle. "It was way too short for me. And the crystals were too showy. That's not me at all."

"But it is most _definitely _me!" Rachel ran out in the aforementioned number, gleefully twirling and smoothing over her hips as she admired her reflection. "I mean, look at my ass in this! I actually _have _an ass in this!" she sang, clapping like mad.

As loathe as they were to admit it, the fabric fit her like a second skin. And the new pescatarian diet did show its merits on her backside. Not that anyone would be stupid enough to point that out to her out loud, lest her head swell to inhuman proportions.

"You look hot." Brittany sighed, poking Rachel's exposed calf. "And I'm gonna go bury my head in the sand and not come out until fall."

"Oh come on, Brit. Don't be so dramatic." Santana said softly. She reached over to cradle her girlfriend's head in her lap. "You're going to prom. It wouldn't be any fun if you weren't there! Besides, it doesn't matter what you wear. You could wear a paper bag with a ribbon tied around you and I'd still be proud to be your date. You're my best girl, and always will be. "

Brittany smiled and leaned up to kiss her, grateful for her vote of confidence. After a moment of thought, she looked into Santana's eyes and added, "What color ribbon do you think would make my eyes pop?"

"Hey! Easy on the dress handlin', ladies!" The owner of the boutique, a grotesquely underdressed man named Lenny, stomped toward them. "You're gonna get your girly hair gunk all over my money! If I see any grease spots, you're paying for the dress. No exceptions."

"I'll go change." Santana growled, rolling her eyes. She had to resist her natural urge to twist the idiot's balls. "Help me unzip, Brit?"

Brittany followed her girlfriend into the changing room, unzipping the back of her dress as she closed the door. Lenny raised his eyebrows expectantly at Rachel, who was too busy cupping and squeezing her behind to notice him.

Their eyes met in mirror, and he daintily wiggled his fingers in a wave.

"Hi." He said sweetly, voice chock full of sarcasm. "When you're done feelin' yourself up in my merchandise, do you think that you can hang up my dress and put it back? I don't think that you can afford to wear that one."

"What do you mean? I'm well within my budget." She flipped her tag over, re-reading the reasonable figure with a nod.

"No, I meant you can't afford to wear something so short with those pointy ostrich knees." He smiled. "And don't get me started on the oily forehead and the sequins..."

Rachel covered her forehead and knees with a shrill shriek, hobbling over to the adjacent dressing room and slamming the door closed.

"I thought we had rights as shoppers." Mercedes said to him, crossing her arms.

"Hey, I don't make the rules, I just enforce them. Pops is too sick to run the place, so I'm the best you got. Besides, I did your bird friend over there a favor." He jabbed his thumb in Rachel's direction. "Consider that piece of fashion advice on the house!"

His eyes shifted above them, focused on the television behind the counter. "Hey, Johnny, turn that up. They're talking about that McMann case again."

The three friends sat straighter, sharing curious looks.

"McMann case?" Tina questioned, feigning ignorance. "As in Judge McMann?"

"Yeah. Apparently, some broad stepped forward and called out the D.A.'s son for raping her. She got a bunch of her girls or somethin' to come up and say the same thing. At first, I called BS, ya know? Thought they were just after that dough. McMann has old and new money, and that's rare as hell. But, it wise like sixteen girls or some crazy number like that. Some of them knew the McMann kid since he was little! I mean, what are the odds of that, right? Maybe they're telling the truth! Plus, that would mean splitting the wealth sixteen ways, and I don't know many broads who are willing to share." He chuckled, pulling out a mint toothpick to chew on."

"Money?" Mercedes asked, turning to watch in her chair. Mel never said anything to her about that.

"Yeah, you don't know how these things go? There's always settlement money," he answered. "Johnny, turn it up! It's like listenin' to mice ova here!"

"What have they said?" Kurt asked, eyes glued to the quiet screen.

"Well, last I heard, the D.A's son went crazy and followed them all the way to New York to shoot 'em up. It was crazy as hell, I tell ya." Lenny balled up a pair of discarded knee-highs from the floor and threw it at the slumbering boy leaning against the wall. "Johnny, I said turn it up, you yutz!"

The teen jumped when the stinky garment hit his nose and opened his eyes. He blindly reached for the remote behind him and raised the volume, until his big brother was satisfied and the brunette reporter's words rang loud and clear.

"—_Evangeline Miller, the female shooter, is now in custody. According to police reports, Donovan McMann arrived at the scene wielding a '45 he'd found from his father's collection. Donovan was able to enter under the radar, dressed as a stagehand working on the show. Sources say he snuck in, orchestrated a complicated ruse to clear backstage of people, and cornered his targets inconspicuously. _

_Sources also say that after Donovan's declared love for one of the victims was not reciprocated, he became unstable and fired two shots into the air. No shots hit any of the victims. _

_In an ironic twist of fate, only the gun holder and the shooter were affected. Donovan McMann has been transferred to Lima General, under strict police watch and in critical condition. Doctors report that the damage to his spine, liver, and intestine may cause him to spend the rest of his life wheelchair bound or paraplegic. He is still being observed for signs of positive change, but the outcome seems dismal._

_And D.A. McMann, beloved district attorney and strict activist for the restraint of Lima's gun control, was pronounced dead at the scene on Sunday afternoon, shortly after paramedics arrived on the scene. His body is being flown back to Lima, under the care of his estate until funeral plans can be made. All of the victims that were present have asked to remain anonymous until the case pending in court is over." _

"Well, ain't that a bitch." Lenny uttered under his breath. "The bastards got what was coming to them."

Mercedes swallowed the large lump in her throat as she listened on. _He was dead. Donovan might never walk again. _It was too surreal for words.

"You okay?" Kurt quietly asked her. She mutely nodded. Tina reached out to rub her back.

"_Our news crew captured earlier footage from two of Donovan's friends, Lawrence Dudley from the affluent Dudley estate and Edward Sullivan, from the long lineage of Sullivan and Co. car services. Both boys have been with Donovan since the start of his attacks and were willing to testify against him in exchange for promise of probation without jail time. The extent of their involvement is uncertain, but their eye witness accounts will be just the edge the defense needs to put away this rapist for good."_

All three of them rolled their eyes when a solemn Larry and Eddie appeared on the screen. They looked guilty and shamed, like two boys caught eating cookies before dinnertime. If Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina didn't know them from personal interaction, they might have been led to believe that they were blindly dragged into this entire mess. But the friends knew better than to trust their faces. They were expert liars.

"_Boys, could you tell us your experiences with Donovan_?" the reporter asked.

Larry sniffled, rubbing his eyes. "_He's always been a little off. I don't know why we didn't notice it before._" He squeaked. _"He was always a little more aggressive, you know?"_

"_He was crazy. He was always chasing after another girl, always demanding that we follow him to help him hurt another victim. It was like he had this pull over us. We didn't know how to say no to him."_ Eddie added.

"Bullshit," spat Kurt. "No one can force you to do that crap. I call bullshit."

"_He's always been...like our boss. Don always had a way of getting you to do things and think that you weren't doing something wrong." _

"_You didn't know what he was doing? Didn't you know he was forcing himself on those girls, Edward?"_ the reporter asked in surprise.

"_We did. But...I don't know. It's like, we blocked it all out. We got numb to it,"_ Eddie answered.

"_We've been helping him since we were ten. We didn't know any different."_ Larry answered, voice trembling. Two tears fell down his cheeks. _"We didn't realize."_

"_So why now? Why come forward? Is it because you were caught? Is it because Donovan is being punished for his actions?" _The brunette reporter leaned in. _"Were you scared that you would get jail time as well if you didn't speak up?"_

The boys looked taken aback for a moment, eyes wide, before Larry found the bearings to speak.

"_We just wanted to do what was right, for the first time in our lives."_ Larry sighed, dabbing his cheeks. _"We didn't want to look like the bad guys. We aren't bad." _

"_We just got caught up in the wrong crowd." Eddie added, slicking back his hair. "And trust me, it won't happen again." _

The screen froze, holding their bewildered faces.

"_Shortly after this interview, the attorneys representing Lawrence and Edward have declined having any future interviews without representation present. As of now, the two boys remain students of McKinley, where most of the victims go to school. The Superintendent reported that the boys pose no direct threat to victims or any other female students and should have the same right to a formal, proper education as any other teenager. _

_But who is the real responsible party in all of this? Have all involved justly paid for their actions? Should we blame these teens who have been groomed into a life of crime and punish them? Or should we take a look at ourselves as a community and ask...what could we have done? How could we have changed what happened here? And most importantly, how can we prevent it from happening again? I'm Rebecca Orijo, Channel Five news." _

"Well, that was morbid." The greasy owner swiped the snot from his nose and clicked the television off. "Back to work!"

A sleepy Johnny looked behind him, searching for any other employees that his brother might've been addressing. Seeing no one else, He shrugged, sat back down, and went right back to his midday nap.

"Hey all! Sorry I'm late!" Erin bustled in, carrying bags of Chinese food in her hands. She wore the most adorable brown knit cap with tiny smiling pandas embroidered around the rim. The warm winter accessory didn't quite match the shorts and tank top she wore, but Erin wasn't known for being weather appropriate.

Besides, the food smelled heavenly. The fashion critics could forgive such a faux pas if she came bearing gifts.

"The food took longer than I thought. I got it after I went to go see Don—I mean, after I went to the hospital." Erin corrected, setting the food down on a side table.

Mercedes was still processing all she'd heard on the news, so Kurt took the reins on the conversation. "Everything going...well?" he asked, forcing a smile for Erin's sake.

"Progress." She cryptically answered. "Prognosis is good. Better than the doctors expected. Anyway..." She pulled out a small Styrofoam container from the bag of takeout. "Who wants wontons? They're crab rangoon and SUPER delicious."

Tina reached out to link her pinky with Mercedes, hoping to get her attention. The small gesture pulled her from her thoughts.

"How are Donovan's legs doing?" she blurted out. Everyone stopped with food in hand.

"You want to know? You don't mind me talking about him?" Erin asked, utterly frightened by her question. "But.."

"I know what he is to me, Erin. That doesn't mean I can't put that aside to care about your brother's well-being. I'm asking because he matters to you, because he's your brother. That's all he is right now. That's all I can handle." Mercedes told her. "So how is he?"

"Well..." Erin put away her food and took an empty seat. "There's still no movement in his legs. He's been in therapy, but he can't walk or move them on his own. The entire lower half of his body is immobile. He has some movement in his arms, though. He can wiggle the fingers of his left arm and has full range of motion on his right. That's what the nurse told me, anyway. He's been feeding himself."

Mercedes smiled for her friend. "That's wonderful, Erin. I'm so glad that you got to spend time with him."

"Me too." Grinned Erin, happy that she could share. "So, what did I miss over here?"

"Well, your brother dearest was just on the news." Kurt replied, crunching on a mini egg roll. "Apparently, the media caught word of his recovery before you could deliver the message."

"How'd they find out so soon? I just found out this morning." Erin asked in shock. "Seriously?"

"The power of the media, honey. Next to fashion, it is the second best non-chemical weapon of mass destruction." Kurt told her, wiping his face and fingers with a napkin. "We also heard about his dad. I'm...sorry for your family's loss, Erin." Unlike Mercedes, Kurt struggled with putting aside his hatred for Donovan.

"It's more his loss than mine, but I appreciate your condolences." Erin nodded, patting his hand. Her eyes drifted over to Mercedes, who seemed lost in her thoughts again. "You okay, bestie? Your mind seems a million miles away."

"I'm here." She answered quietly, though her eyes remained distant. "I think it just hit me that this might actually be all over. I can be myself and not have to worry or look over my shoulder."

"Then, why do you look so sad?" asked Erin.

Mercedes eyes' refocused, roaming over her concerned friends' faces. Santana, Brittany and Rachel walked out of the dressing rooms in their regular clothes and took seats by her feet.

"I just...I thought I would feel differently, you know? I thought it would all fade away like a bad memory and I could overcome and get on with my life. I thought it would just...go away." She explained. A chilling thought gripped her heart. "But, I'm never gonna forget this, am I?"

Tina reached out and hugged her friend's shoulders. "I thought it would be like the movies or something...the ending credits would run, and you'd know that it's time to leave the theater because the experience is over. The dream world you paid for had ended. But, it isn't like that at all. It will always be somewhere behind me, playing its haunting score behind everything I do, won't it?"

Kurt and Erin joined in Tina's embrace, crowding around her. They searched their minds for some soothing words, but couldn't find any that would heal her unique hurt. The girls on the floor stroked her hands and rubbed her knees in comfort, but they too were at loss for words.

Sadly, Mercedes was right. These frightful months would always stay with her. And in their moment of silent contemplation, the glee kids realized that their friend's sexual assault would haunt them as well, horrifically lurking in the shadows of their adolescence like a ghost from their nightmares.

The fight had ended, but the war would never be over.

**O-O**

_**Two days before prom...**_

As far as Sam was concerned, adult life could kiss his ass.

His guidance counselor told him that his grades had drastically improved, but his SAT scores were a little above average. His college dreams weren't shot to hell, but his chances of getting into a prestigious school like UCLA seemed dismal. His next option would be to retest, and Sam wasted no time pulling every SAT prep book from the library and investing the effort.

There were eleven books total, all thick and heavy, toppling out of his hands. He had to beg the librarian to let him stay after to study. The library was far removed from all the graduation talk and joyful college acceptance squeals at Finn and Kurt's house. He couldn't focus around that much positive energy.

That should have been him right now. He should have been graduating with his class and making his parents proud. Instead, he had to struggle all summer in hopes to make it to college by spring. And, if that wasn't enough, he had to do it all while pulling a summer job to help with the extra costs of summer school and tutoring. This SAT news was the last thing he needed to hear. He felt like such a useless idiot.

_Lord, give me strength. Let me know that I can do this._

Two fingers tapped his left shoulder and caught his attention. He turned around, but there was no one behind him. When he turned back, two smiling brown eyes and a flash of a purple flower in dark hair appeared out of thin air.

"Crap, Mercedes!" he cried, nearly dropping his books. "How the hell?"

"You're not the only one that has afterschool library connections. They love me here. I used to help restock the bookshelves every now and then and bring brownies for the staff. Scared you, huh?" She smiled, taking some of the books off his hands and resting them on the floor. He followed her lead, stacking his pile atop hers. "It's not so funny when it's you on the other side of that tap."

"Near heart attack aside, I'm really glad to see you," he told her, hugging her waist and kissing her cheek. "Today was absolutely killer. I could use a little sunshine. You look beautiful in your color, babe."

"You like it?" She swished her long skirt around, showing off the gorgeous floral print of her long summer dress. The straps twisted around her neck, halter style, and formed an X down her back. The broad purple flower nestled on the side of her messy top bun brightened her in a new way. It was like her flawless face blossomed without all of the layers of hair in the way. She looked like springtime.

"Today was such a hot day, so I decided to pull this out of my closet. It's really long, but super airy. Besides, I wanted to look pretty for you today." She smiled, kissing his lips and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I haven't seen you since this morning."

"Man, has it been that long? No wonder I felt off today. I was missing my other half." He smiled back. "And you look pretty every day, baby. You don't even need to try."

"Oh trust me, I do. The fact that it looks effortless means I've done it right." She laughed. Her sandaled foot kicked the side of the high pile of books. "What's with all of the extra reading all of a sudden? Test or something?"

He picked up the book on the top, holding up the cover as his answer. "SAT prep? But I thought you already took your SATs."

"I did. I got my scores today." He frowned.

His forlorn face made her sad. "That bad, huh?" she asked gently. "Well, this was your first time testing, right? You can take it again and improve your scores."

"I know, it's just..." He looked over to the large book pile, overwhelmed by its size. "I feel like I just keep trying and trying and going nowhere, you know?"

His answer confused her. "Says who? You were most improved in your class and well on your way to finishing up senior year with a near whole point GPA improvement. I don't understand what you mean by going _nowhere_." She replied. "Who are you comparing yourself to, Sam?"

"Mike...Finn...you." he told her. "Everyone in our class that's packing their boxes up to go away and start their lives..."

"See, stop right there. That's your problem. Look at me." He lifted his head, hesitant to look into her eyes. She moved her head and made him look. "You are smart, Sam Evans. You are one of the smartest people I've ever met. When you give something your all, you're brilliant at what you do. What you have to realize is that you've been dealing with a reading issue alone all of this time, and it put you at a disadvantage in the classroom. You did the right thing and got help when you needed it. But you only started a couple of months ago! Forgive yourself for waiting to take care of it and give yourself time to catch up and learn. So what if you have to go to college a different way? What's the big deal if it takes you a little longer than the rest of us? You're _going_. That's what matters."

"I feel like I've let my family down. I don't want my brother and sister to look up to me and see a..."

"What? What, Sam? What will they see?" she demanded. "That their big brother is doing his best? Striving for his dreams? That he never gives up? God _forbid_ they follow your example and work hard against all odds. Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds, baby?"

He chuckled humorlessly, kissing her forehead. He finally found the courage to focus on her. "We promised we were gonna be honest with each other, right? Even if it's painful to hear or sounds silly?"

"Yep." She nodded. "That was one of our rules. Why?"

He sighed, deciding to go for broke. "I don't want you to go off to college and be ashamed of having a boyfriend that's still in high school."

Her eyes widened at the ludicrous suggestion. "Seriously, Sam?! That's what's really bothering you?"

He cringed and nodded. "I know it sounds petty and kind of vain..."

"And utterly ridiculous! Sam, do you understand how committed I am to this? Do you realize how proud I am to call you mine? Everything you see as a flaw is what I admire most about you!" she insisted, cupping his cheek. "Baby, I am never letting you go. And I'm gonna have tons of pictures of us framed around my dorm room, all over my dresser and shelves and computer. And when my roommates ask me if you're my man, I'm gonna tell say yes and I'm gonna say it with pride. Do you want to know what I'll tell them about you?"

He shook his head, shuffling back and forth on his feet. Exposing his fears was still a bit intimidating. "What?"

"I'm gonna tell them that he was the one that saw me better than I saw myself. He was the one who inspired me to reach for my dreams and never let go of them. He's that second still, small voice in my head, agreeing with god on everything that he says I am. He saved my life—literally and figuratively." She chuckled. "And he took my heart and gave me his in return. My boyfriend Sam is my inspiration." She stroked his cheek, rubbing the bristling hairs on his chin. "And he's hella sexy."

Sam laughed once, looking away. He brightened at her words. "You're gonna say all of that?"

"Every time." she swore, vowing with a hand over her heart. "That's what I'm gonna say."

"And what if they ask you what college campus he's on?" He asked her, watching her face.

"I'll tell them he's set for UCLA, same as me. Graphic design and illustration major in the spring. So you better study up and let me help you, because we have somewhere to be next semester." She smiled. "You can do this, I know you can. If you don't believe it, then I'm gonna have to believe enough for the both of us, alright?"

He grinned, pressing his lips against the bridge of her nose. He happily inhaled, reveling in her sweet scent. "You came just when I needed you. I swear it. I just prayed for confidence and encouragement, and you appear out of nowhere, right between me and my future," he said, nodding toward the bookshelves behind her. "Thank you."

"Anytime," she said softly, smoothing over his wild eyebrows with her thumbs. "I'm also here for another reason."

"Oh? Is that so?" he asked, intrigued. "Did I win a lottery and they sent you to tell me?"

"Well, Tina, Kurt and I did here this weird thing about the case and money, but I'll tell you that later." She said, dismissing the thought with her hand. "Do you know where we are right now?"

"The library?" he said slowly, trying to follow.

"And do you know what this exact spot meant for us exactly one year ago?" she asked, biting her lip.

The answer didn't register at all in his eyes. "I'll give you a hint. I was right here, looking for a book." She turned around, breaking out of his embrace to climb the library ladder next to them. "And I found it, but dropped it to the floor, like this." She took a red covered text from the shelves, letting it slip to the floor. "And you came from over there toward me..." she pointed behind her to the end of the row, currently blocked by a shorter, rolling bookcase, "and picked it up for me."

His grin grew slowly, remembering the very day she spoke of. "And I handed it to you and said..."

"This is why short people shouldn't climb ladders unattended. They destroy everything." they said in unison, laughing at the memory.

"It was the first day I worked up the nerve to speak to you alone, and I blew it with a stupid intro line like that." He laughed. "So suave."

"And what else happened that day, Sammy?" she asked him, climbing down. He stopped her mid step and rested his hand on her back. She giggled when he kissed her bare shoulder and pulled her to his chest.

"It was the day after prom, when I asked you out. It was the day we planned our first date." he quietly answered.

"And our lives were never the same." She slowly turned around in his arms, remaining two steps above the floor. They were the same height, standing face to face. "Happy libra-versary, baby. I'm so glad you found the courage to ask me."

"Libra-versary? You're a bigger dork than me for that one." They laughed together at the absurd word. "But, happy libra-versary right back. Thank you for saying yes." They leaned in and joined in a kiss, resting against the wooden framing of the ladder's steps. It creaked and moaned as Sam leaned them backward. Her hands explored his hair and his hands trailed up her thigh, lifting her dress higher with each inch of movement.

"I love you," she whispered in a needy sigh.  
>"I love you too," he replied, just as feverishly. Their mouths slammed back together, open and moving with tongues wrestling for dominance It was only when Mercedes felt Sam's hand touching her bare inner thigh that she broke them apart, panting for air.<p>

"Sam, we can't. It's the library and you need to study." She panted, though she trapped his hand between her thigh muscles and ground her core against his fingers. "Mmmm...We shouldn't, should we?"

"Mercedes, you're asking me to think logically when my hand is between your legs. It doesn't work that way. " he told her, pushing her right thigh aside to worm his fingers past her underwear. She gasped and whined so prettily when he entered her, that Sam had to kiss the throat that produced such gorgeous sounds. "Should I stop? Is this too far?"

"God, no." she sighed, closing her eyes. "Sam...We..." she bounced harder against his fingers, rubbing her sensitive breasts against his chest with every movement. "God, your fingers are long."

He chuckled lowly, licking her parted lips. "You're noticing this now? I thought my fingers and your pussy were MUCH better acquainted." He pulled out and turned her around, kissing her backside as his fingers slid into her from behind. "Fuck, you're so sexy to me."

She hummed and grew slack against the steps, groaning in pleasure with every thrust of his hand and kiss of his lips. "I forgot why this was wrong. This is wrong...right?" She bit her arm to stifle a cry when he reached his other hand around to rub her clit.

"All I'm saying is, you're lucky we're here after hours. The whole student body would have heard us," he growled, kissing the side of her cheek. "Will you come for me? Do I have permission to make you cum, baby?"

She nodded eagerly. "But, the librarian..."

"Is blind as a bat with hearing three times as bad. We've just got to remember the rules." He pressed himself against her behind, careful not to startle her. "Quiet while studying."

"W-w-were not...mmm!" He kissed her back and lifted her left leg to the third step, spreading her open even more. His fingers sped up, both over her clit and in her pussy, pulling her closer to the brink of climax. "We're not studying, baby!" she squeaked, clawing splinters of wood off of the steps. One hand reached through in her passion and knocked over five books from the shelves, making a brief clatter in the quiet room.

"Says who? I've got an anatomy test tomorrow," he replied as he pleasured her, rubbing his crotch against her soft bottom. "Think I'll pass, baby?"

"Fuck yes!" she cried. "God, I'm gonna cum! Sam, I need to cum!"

"Is everything alright over here? I thought I heard a commotion." Mrs. Livingston, filling in for the usual librarian, limped over to the frisky couple, blissfully unaware of what they were doing. "Sam? Is that still you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Livingston, it's still me!" She squinted hard and walked closer, lifting her glasses to get a better view of the blonde hair and bright smile that distinguished him. She was legally blind, but had the memory of an elephant. "Mercedes just came to visit me. She was just helping me relax."

"Oh, Mercedes! Of course, that's you!" the elderly librarian smiled, stopping short of the short bookcase that blocked her way. "How are you, dear? Hold on, let me move this out of the way so I can hug you."

"No!" the couple cried, still very much involved in their sexual activities.

"I'll...umm..." she shuddered, feeling the first wave of orgasm wash over her body. "I'll come to you."

"Or to me," Sam whispered, smiling as she struggled to catch her breath. He held her steady as she trembled, violently shaking from her orgasm's intensity.

"Fuck, Sam..." she whispered with eyes closed, craning her neck to kiss his lips as she calmed. "Fuck."

"Well? I don't have all day!" Mrs. Livingston hands remained outstretched, waiting for the embrace promised to her. "Where's my hug from my favorite student?"

Sam patted her ass and stepped back to help her down. When she faced him, he sucked his soaked fingers in his mouth and moaned in pleasure.

"You should go and hug the librarian." Sam smiled, winking at her and tucking two wavy tendrils back into her bun. "Wouldn't want her to think that you were too busy."

"I hate you," she whispered harshly, swatting away his hand with a smile as she sauntered away. He watched his petite love run into the older woman's arms, swaying her plump form back and forth as they hugged.

"Love you too, woman." he quietly answered, smiling at the familiar way the women greeted each other.

"Mercedes! Why, you are even more lovely than I remember! Don't you look beautiful!" Mrs. Livingston kissed her cheeks, adjusting her large frames. Suddenly, she leaned in, sniffing Mercedes' neck. "Just one note, dear. I'd suggest investing in a perfume that was a little less ...musky. It smells like you rubbed a sweaty man all over you!"

Sam and Mercedes shared a knowing look, and she rolled her eyes at his proud smile. He gave her a thumbs up for good measure, and Mercedes had to chuckle at his adorable inappropriateness.

Sam always managed to get her in the strangest predicaments, but she wasn't complaining in the least. Perhaps their dynamic is what scholars described as love making one do strange things.

**O-O**

Making Mercedes come around his fingers always left Sam in better spirits.

While the librarian kept Mercedes occupied with her angry rants about the school's budget cuts on book shipments, Sam actually got some reading and practice work done. Before he knew it, two hours had passed, and he had managed to finish an entire section of math and start a practice essay. It was a near miraculous accomplishment, considering the fact that his mind was still on a blissful high from their rendezvous between the bookcases.

Sam tried texting Mercedes before he headed out, but she didn't reply. After several minutes had passed, he figured that she was probably busy or on her way home. It was growing dark, and it was still considered a school night. Hanging out and finishing what they started might have to wait until they weren't so busy.

_Shame, _he thought_. _When he sent her his good night text tonight, he'd mourn the missed opportunity, in explicit detail. She'd love that.

This little game they'd woven together had all been a part of their plan to build the excitement for prom night. They were both huge advocates of foreplay, and Mercedes had read that it was helpful for survivors to slowly build to sexual intercourse over the span of several days. Not only was it enjoyable, but taking baby steps to the big event also helped relax tensions and mentally prepare the couple for physical intimacy. Nervous energy usually led to awkward fumbling and sour mistakes that could be potential triggers. Fooling around made sex fun and non-threatening. So far, the adventure really seemed to help Mercedes relax.

After the gun incident, there were occasions when she'd regress and experience panic attacks. Sam snuck up and surprised her one day at her lockers, and it took a good thirty minutes for her to control her breathing. Sometimes, when they were really bad, he wasn't allowed to even touch her until she collected herself. It had only happened three times, but it was enough to show them that they needed to approach their intimacy a different way.

Research advised them to start with light, common forms of contact, like holding hands or hugs. Then, they built up to slow kisses and lingering caresses, soft stares across rooms that communicated their affection louder than their words ever could.

It felt a lot like starting over for them, but the past few days held promise. She let him press against her and hold her without any prompting or extra coaxing. She didn't even use her safe word when he turned her around. Facing away from him during their sexual romps had been one of their taboos. The lack of control unnerved her.

_Mercedes really let go of the reins today, _he thought, smiling to himself. Her progress always amazed him.

Bladder suddenly making itself known, Sam made his way to the men's bathroom near the showers. There was probably a closer one somewhere in the halls, but Sam always went to the locker room bathroom out of habit from swim practice. Besides, the janitor cleaned it twice as often as the others, and the thought of a less germy toilet seat on his ass gave him an unusual sense of calm. And whatever cleaner Mr. Jacob used would always leave such a pleasing scent behind. It was exactly how his house in Kentucky would smell whenever his mom went on one of her Saturday cleaning sprees.

In a strange way, the small public room was his mini sanctuary.

Sure enough, Janitor Jacob came out as soon as he arrived, finishing up the last scheduled cleaning for the day.

"All fresh and ready for you, Trouty!" the older man smiled, greeting Sam by his swimmer name. "And good news—there's no crowd!"

"Thanks Mr. Jacob. You know how I like it." Sam smiled back, high fiving him as they crossed ways. "You're awesome, like always."

"Hey, all in a day's work!" he replied. With a small nod, the janitor wheeled his cleaning cart out of the locker room, whistling a chipper tune as he sauntered away.

Sam stepped in and took a satisfied whiff of the room, allowing the nostalgic thoughts of his family to wash over him. Unusual as the practice was, the small moment made him less homesick than usual. Aside from Mercedes, they were the ones who steadied his ground when life got too crazy. After the insanity with Donovan, Sam found himself clinging to the familiar.

After a brief tinkle, Sam made his way to the sink to wash his hands, whistling the same contagious tune Mr. Jacob had gotten stuck in his brain. He knew the tune, but couldn't quite place the words...

He hadn't noticed the door swing open and shut. The clicking pump of the soap dispenser and rush of pipe water cloaked the sound. However, his new visitor did introduce a new scent into the already fragrant room and it caught his attention.

Sam smiled without looking away from his task, lost in the vanilla and brown sugar smell that had become his new familiar. "You do know that this is a men's room, right sweetheart?"

Mercedes crossed her arms and leaned against the far wall, shamelessly devouring his form with her gaze as he dried his hands. "I'm your stalker. You gonna call the cops on me?"

"Nope. I'm actually flattered. I've never had a stalker before." Their eyes met in the mirror, communicating the same electric desire that buzzed through them in the library. "Problem is I don't know why you'd stalk me of all people. I'm not famous, and unless you count my kickass impressions and epic hip thrusts, I don't have any talent worth the attention of someone so gorgeous."

"Really?" She released her bun, freeing her waves to ripple down her bare shoulders. Sam gulped when she licked her lips and sauntered forward. "I wholeheartedly disagree. The talents you possess are worthy of a following." She slid between his body and the sink, pressing her chest against his. Her nimble fingers worked her way under his belt and yanked, until he tumbled forward and toppled over her. The sink stopped them from falling backward, and their lips brushed together as he steadied himself.

"Do tell," he replied with a smile, broadening to a grin when she started to unbuckle him. Sam really liked wherever this was going.

Mercedes graced him with a whisper of a kiss as she reached back to turn off the faucet. "Go to the stall right across from us and have a seat. I'm gonna show you exactly why I followed you here."

Sam nodded dumbly, too excited to properly respond. Every ounce of blood in his body had rushed to his center, engorging and lengthening him in preparation for what she had in store.

When he didn't move, Mercedes bumped him away with her chest, freeing herself from the trappings of his hard body. She took the lead and pulled him by his belt, guiding him into the stall with a flirty wink.

Sam eagerly locked the door and sat down. "I didn't get to dry my hands, baby," he told her, wiggling his dripping fingers in the air. Mercedes took his right hand and licked away each droplet that beaded on his middle finger, looking into his eyes as she did so.

"There's no need," she said sweetly, turning around to lower herself onto his lap. She slid his hands up her dress, across her bare thighs and in between them, until his fingers brushed against her panty covered clit. The throbbing flesh pressed through the satin and made its presence known. "You're gonna get them wet again."

"Oh, fuck..." He rolled her clit between his fingers, loving how the smooth material around it grew progressively damp. It had only been a couple of hours, but Sam already hungered for the feel her body and thirst for her tongue wrapped around his. Even now, the slow roll of her hips on his lap made his vision blur. Literally, for several minutes, Sam saw two of everything. "Mercedes..."

"The way you touched me in the library made me feel like there was a promise of good dick to follow." Mercedes purred, leaning back to slowly kiss his jaw. "Yet, there I was, standing alone...dripping for you...open for you..." She tilted her hips forward to unbutton his jeans and unzip him. Mercedes bunched the back of her dress between them, until her bare bottom rubbed against the swelling of his boxers. Her beautiful moan of pleasure made Sam brush her hair away to kiss her shoulder in gratitude. "And you left me empty, baby. Does that sound fair?"

She slowly wound his belt around her knuckles, in the same maddening pace that she chose to rock her hips against his hardening cock.

"No. It's not fair at all." Sam breathed, panting harder when she slid his hand underneath the crotch of her underwear and allowed him to touch her bare sex. Sam took the opportunity to explore, spreading her lips apart until her sensitive button stood as taut as a guitar string between his fingers. Nimbly, he plucked the slippery flesh, curious of the sound his love would produce when he strummed her.

"Ah!" Sure enough, his baby hit a pitch perfect high C. He expected no less from her.

"I'm sorry, baby. Can I make it up to you?" He reached down his boxers with his free hand and fished out his hard cock, slapping the swollen crimson head against his moving fingers. "Is that better, darling?"

"Mmhmm!" He spanked her clit with his cock again, groaning in pleasure with her. "Oh yes, Sam. I like that. I like that so much." She panted and reached down to touch the hand on his penis. Mercedes took the reins and stroked him, alternating squeezes and gentle fingers up and down his shaft until he was rock solid. On a whim, she slid his cockhead underneath the crotch of her underwear and nestled him against her wetness. Slowly, she started to bounce in his lap, cupping and massaging his balls as she moved. The unusual friction had Sam ready to blow in seconds.

"God, Mercy!" he gasped, reaching up to grab a jiggling breast. He moved to unhook her bra, but stopped himself midway. "Can I? Please?"

Mercedes paused and deftly reached down her cleavage to unhook her bra. The wire frame slackened in his palm and fell away from the full weight of her breasts. "Yes. Touch me," she urged. Sam went under the material and cupped her, moaning in pleasure at the feel of her stiffened nipple springing back and forth against his roaming thumb. Her breasts were as full and warm as the rest of her, flesh spilling its abundance over the sides and between every crevice of his fingers. Mercedes resumed her fondling, bouncing more eagerly when Sam started to pull and twist both of her sensitive nubs.

"Ah, god!" She couldn't take it anymore. In a fit of passion, she shifted and positioned him directly over her entrance. Slowly, she pushed down, easing him into her.

"Mercedes...baby, we can't. What are you doing?" He pulled his cock away before she could push him past her lips. "I'm not wearing anything."

"I know, but I just..." Mercedes took him again and rubbed him against her slippery entrance. "You're right _there_, Sammy. It's right there. Just push inside me. I need you so bad, it hurts."

Sam groaned in aching need, biting his frustrations away on her shoulder. He could feel her clenching. She was dripping all over his skin. Her heat was so close and available to him. She was begging him to fill her, to take what she was offering, and all he could think about was bending her at the waist and giving them both what was overdue.

"C'mon, baby." She nudged him centimeters deeper, whining and gasping with need. "Just take it. My pussy's right there. Take it, I want you to. Just pull out before you come..."

"I don't know...Mercedes, I..."She tilted her head to run her tongue over the fullness of his lips, top to bottom and over every curve and ridge of his mouth, before sealing her attentions with a searing kiss. "God, you taste good," he sighed, leaning back in to kiss her again. "Fuck, you feel tight too."

"I am, baby." She moaned, desperate for relief. "I'm so ready for you. Take me? Please?"

"No...baby, I can't." he hugged her waist to still her movements on his lap. Her grinding was driving him insane. "I'm not taking anything from you. You're gonna give it to me, when we're both ready, okay? It will be in a room, on a proper bed, when we have protection and time...Hey, look at me." He kissed away her frown, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "I'm not rejecting you. But I'm not taking anything you're not ready to give, okay? And I can't really deliver right now."

"I know. I'm just really, really horny, Sam," she whined, gripping the base of his dick. "And I'm frustrated and tired of waiting. I just want to come properly."

His breathing grew shallow when her fist began to move around him. "I'm about to come right now, baby."

Mercedes gasped when he increased the speed on her clit. " Me too." She cried. "I'm right there, I just need more. Give me more, Sam."

Sam sloppily coated three of his fingers with saliva and gently eased inside of her, spreading his fingers apart into a w-shape to give her a bit of a stretch. It would have to be enough for now.

"Uh! Oh, fuck yes." Mercedes twisted her fist around his cock head as she jerked him, moving faster and tightening her grip as she approached her orgasm. "You gonna cum with me? C'mon, Sam."

He collapsed into her neck and gripped her waist, leaning slightly forward with her as his balls tightened. "God, I'm cumming." He groaned, kissing her neck. He quickened the pumping of his fingers, eager to get her where he was. "I'm right behind you, sweetheart."

"Mmm...this is my dick, Sam. MINE," she growled possessively, squeezing him in her hands. "Say it. Say it's my dick, baby."

"It's your dick, baby. Do what you wanna do," he told her, thrusting eagerly into her hand. "You own it. It's yours."

"Baby isn't enough. What's my name?" she panted. "Say my name. Who owns this dick?" She licked his swollen, gaping mouth. "Say it for me, daddy."

"Mercedes Jones! Mercedes fucking Jones owns this dick!" he croaked, in a strangled and desperate voice.

"Yes! You sound so sexy when you scream for me." He inserted a fourth finger inside of her, and she spread her thighs wider to accommodate him. The tightening in her stomach started to build, and her head fell back, exposing her throat. Sam sucked on her neck, humming into her skin.

"Yes, Sam. Just like that. Right there, babe." Mercedes pulled her dress straps down, letting her breasts free into the cool air. Her free hand toyed with them to her heart's content. "That's the spot right there, don't stop. I love it when you kiss me, you know that? Kiss me all over. Hold me close..."

"Shit!...SHIT! WOMAN!" Sam quickly flipped over the front of her dress, just in time to watch her pretty little hand get laced with ropes of his thick cum. She continued to stroke until he had emptied all over her knuckle, and his essence dripped over her dark thighs. Sam took her arms, sperm coated and all, and wrapped both of them around his neck. Before she could question him, he lifted her left calf, tossed her sandal aside, and rested her bare foot against his knee.

"Sam?" He answered her by pushing aside her right thigh and spreading her wide open across his lap. One hand toyed with the tips of her nipples, alternating back and forth between each to give them equal attention. The other hand pumped her pussy until the squishing of her fluids around his hand were audible.

"Oh, SHIT!" Her right leg kicked up and rested on the metal bar attached to the stall wall. Using full hip power, she humped his fingers, thrusting in the air, until her climax came with a screeching howl. "SAM!"

Their bodies grew slack and fell backward, panting and sweaty from their efforts. Ever the gentleman, Sam wrapped an arm around her chest to cover her.

"So...about this sexual frustration thing?" Sam said, catching his breath.

"Yeah? What about it?" she asked, struggling to do the same.

"Prom isn't until this weekend." Their eyes found each other. "That's two days away."

"48 hours?" he nodded. "Two whole days?!"

"And prom doesn't end until midnight," he informed her. "That's not a problem if we want to leave early, but..."

Mercedes laughed. "Sam, until then I think we need a hobby. A really good, really satisfying, non-sexual hobby."

He nodded, agreeing completely. "Yeah. If we don't, I just might get you pregnant. Then we _really _wouldn't enjoy prom, because your dad wouldn't let me ten feet near you." laughed Sam.

"Hey...random question but, what song were you humming before I came in here? It sounds so familiar," she asked him as she refastened her bra and fixed her clothes.

Sam grabbed a couple of tissues and cleaned her hands, then himself. "I don't remember." He answered, zipping his jeans. "Where's my belt, Mercy?"

Mercedes looked around until she saw it near her feet, next to her strewn sandal. "Must've dropped it," she shrugged, smiling and handing it to him. He refastened his belt.

As they stood, Sam's face suddenly grew pink. "Oh, god..."

"What?" She rubbed his cheek. "What is it? What's that face?" Mercedes chuckled.

"That song, I just realized what song it was," he answered, slapping his forehead.

"Is it that bad?" Mercedes laughed, fluffing her head.

"Worse," he groaned. He struggled to fight his blush, but failed miserably. "It's Marvin Gaye's _Sexual Healing __."_

Mercedes snorted and turned her head to laugh, shoulders shaking in mirth. "Of course it was, Sam." she said, kissing his cheek as they exited the stall. "How appropriate."

**O-O**

_**Prom night...**_

Sam nervously adjusted his necktie in the window, making sure he looked as presentable as possible before he entered the Jones' residence. According to the dapper reflection staring back at him, he looked as good as he possibly could after hours of agonizing touch-ups. He appeared calm and sophisticated, a fitting date for the queen waiting inside for him.

But inside, he was a cowering, nervous, little man. Tonight was the night. Prom night had come far sooner than he'd expected. Mercedes was probably somewhere upstairs sliding on her shimmering gown, fixing her hair in those soft rippling waves he loved so much. Mama Jones was probably taking lots of pictures, showering her with compliments of how gorgeous and captivating she looked. And Sam knew that every word of it would be true. He expected to be dumbstruck at the sight of her in gold, and envisioned several possibilities of styles she would've chosen. Would it be tight and clingy, hugging each curve of her like a second skin? Or would her choice be more traditional, flowing loose and glamorous? Would it stop at the knee? Show off her flawless calves? Maybe shorter than that?

He could only imagine, since she refused to let him sneak a peek. "Not until prom," she told him. She claimed it would ruin the drama of her entrance. The only reason he'd even gotten the color was so he could match his cummerbund appropriately. She would never let him live down the wrong shade of gold. Apparently, there were several _thousand _possible variations to choose from, and heaven forbid they step out as a couple wearing clashing shades of the metallic color spectrum. The joys and pains of dating a diva, he supposed. He was just happy that he found clean socks that matched.

Of course, if he could find the courage to go inside, he could see her dress for himself. Trouble was he couldn't get his hands to stop shaking long enough to hone in on the doorbell. He'd never had trouble before, so why was it so difficult now?

Oh, right. Tonight was sex night.

_Shit. _

_Just breathe, Sam, _he told himself, jogging in place to gather his bearings. _Give her your best tonight. She'll love it. She'll love you._

Never mind the fact that he could hardly afford a third of the things he envisioned for their special night. He was a creative romantic with a limited budget, and unfortunately, his dreams stretched farther than his wallet. His bros chipped in as much as they could for the cause, but it was just enough to afford the flowers and the sparkling cider. He tried asking his dad for a loan to cover the rest until his check came in next week (leaving out the details, of course), but his father was tapped out after the car rental and drive out to New York. Shame wouldn't allow him to ask anyone else.

Telling his parents the truth was completely out of the question. As cool as they were about him and Mercedes being together, he knew that they would impale him on a spit and roast him over an open fire if he ever told them of his plans to deflower the Jones' daughter. They didn't even know that he'd already spread open her petals a couple times before. The last thing he needed, antsy as he was, was a lecture on southern propriety and a woman's virtue.

Besides, it wasn't just about the sex. Mercedes had gone through something terribly awful. He was almost killed trying to protect her. The last time they'd tried to make love ended in bitter tears and heartache. Tonight was about taking back the moments that were stolen from them. They deserved to be intimate without feeling guilty or shameful about it. She deserved to love her body, and trust him enough to let him express his devotion over every inch of her skin. There was more at stake, more riding on this night being wonderful than there ever was before. _Getting some _wasn't the goal. It was about sharing all of each other, being naked physically and emotionally in the same bed for the second time after all they'd suffered. Their evening couldn't be anything less than great.

No, even better than great. Tonight had to be the best. Even greater still. It had to be _perfect._ Anything less would be unacceptable.

"Boy, come inside this house and stop mumbling to yourself! The neighbors are gonna think I'm harboring crazy people!"

Mr. Jones booming voice and the opening of the front door startled Sam out of his thoughts.

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Sorry, sir," he replied nervously. "I was gonna ring the doorbell, but I..."

"You what? You lost your way? Did you forget how doorbells work, son?" laughed Mr. Jones. Sam just shoved his fidgeting hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do with all of his anxious energy.

"Hey, it's okay," Mr. Jones said sympathetically, patting his back. "I think I remember what you're going through. I was young and in love once myself."

"I don't think that we're going through the exact same things, Mr. Jones." Sam nervously chuckled, rocking back and forth on his heels as he thought of their hotel room.

"Well, perhaps our circumstances are not _exactly_ the same, but some things never change." Mr. Jones perused his awkward posture. "Like right now, you're probably worried out of your mind. You probably agonized over what cologne to wear or how to style your hair for hours before you came here, wondering which shoes go best with which suit and praying to God that Mercedes likes your choices, am I right?"

"Yeah," Sam hesitantly replied, never quite meeting the older man's eyes. "How'd you know?"

"Because I've been there, Samuel! Did you forget that I was young once?" Mr. Jones hugged his shoulders, rubbing away the tension. "Relax, my boy! There's nothing to fear here!"

"Right, I know." Sam smiled, relaxing a bit. "It's just...I really want to impress Mercedes tonight."

"Oh, I'm sure you will. And as her father, let me just say that your intentions already please me. She deserves to be impressed. She deserves your effort, the very best of you, tonight and beyond. You understand?"

"I sure do, sir." Sam nodded. Mr. Jones seemed pleased with his answer.

"Step inside the kitchen with me for a moment, Sam. I want to have a little heart to heart with you."

Sam obediently followed, taking a seat around the round wooden dining table. The small chandelier above them added a warmth to the evening glow of the setting sun's light. The small corner almost held a magical air about it, like they were set to expect someone grand at any moment.

_How fitting, _thought Sam. His queen should descend the steps in the hall and come to greet him any minute now.

"What did you want to talk about, Sir?" Mr. Jones took the seat across from him, setting a bowl full of an assortment of apples in the middle of the table.

"You like apples, son?" he asked, taking a smaller Granny Smith one and a larger red and delicious one from the top of the pile.

"Sure, I guess." Sam shrugged, eyeing the fruit curiously. "No more or less than any other fruit."

"My father used to sit all of my sister's dates down and have a talk with them using these apples. It was an effective communication tool then, and now that I've become a father myself, I find that the message still comes across so well using this illustration. May I?"

"Sure?" Sam gulped when Mr. Jones pulled out a folded paper from his back pocket. He straightened out the paper and laid it flat in between them.

"Do you know what this is, Sam?"

Sam cautiously leaned over to read. His hands shook all over again when he realized what it was.

"I, um...i-it looks like a bank statement, sir."

"But, not just anyone's bank statement. Look at the name."

Sam looked up at him. "It's Mercedes's credit card statement, sir."

Mr. Jones nodded, and then pointed to a highlighted section of print. "And her most recent charge is what I wanted to discuss with you."

Sam leaned back and looked down at his lap, fiddling with his cufflinks. "It's charged to a Howard-Johnson hotel room, sir," he answered, sighing.

Mr. Jones slid the two apples in front of him, placing them near either end of the table. "Now, I'm a fair man. You know that. I'm never one to jump to conclusions. But, you can see how, as her father that causes me some alarm. And when it concerns my daughter's well-being, I try to get to the bottom of it. Seeing as you and my daughter are so close…" Sam cringed at the implications in his tone. "I thought you might be able to help me answer some questions."

"Yes, sir." Sam answered quietly, slowly accepting the fact that their evening may end before it starts. "What would you like to know?"

"Did you know anything about this purchase prior to our conversation tonight?"

Sam nodded, going for broke. "Yes, sir. She told me about it on our way to Nationals." Mr. Jones slid the two apples closer.

"And, what exactly did she tell you were her _plans _for said hotel room?"

"She...well, I...It was for us." He relented. "She told me that she rented the room for us."

Mr. Jones moved the apples closer still, toward the center of the table. "And when you say rent for _us_...what exactly were you two planning to _do_ in this hotel room, by yourselves?"

"We...we were..." Sam looked behind him, panicking. "Shouldn't Mercedes be here for this talk, sir?"

"Oh believe me, I will ask Mercedes all the questions I need to ask her when she comes down. My question to you is, what were your intentions with _my_ daughter in this hotel room that _she_ purchased with the emergency credit_ I_ gave her?" Mr. Jones asked, pressing the two apples together. "And I would STRONGLY advise you to answer me honestly."

Sam straightened up in his seat and looked into Mr. Jones's eyes, facing him head on. "We were planning on making love in that hotel room, Sir. But please, before you get angry and tear me limb from limb, I'd like the chance to speak my piece."

Mr. Jones leaned back and smirked, folding his hands. "Go on."

Sam sighed, grateful for the opportunity. "I know you look at me and see just another boy eager to figure out a way to take advantage of your daughter. And believe me; I fully understand your concerns. After all, your daughter is very beautiful, with a very sexy body..." Mr. Jones cleared his throat, clearly NOT amused. "I'm sorry if that offended you. Please don't count that against me."

Mr. Jones considered him for a moment, and then silently nodded, permitting him to continue.

"But, I'm not like the rest, Mr. Jones. Mercedes has never been just a body to me. I see every sparkling, shimmering part of her. She lights up my life like no one else has. Your daughter saved my life, Mr. Jones, whether she meant to or not."

His comment peaked Mr. Jones's interest. "How so?"

"Well..." _Make this good, Sam. Tell him how you really feel about her. _"She has this way about her that just inspires you to be better, you know? She doesn't pressure you or make you feel terrible about who you are. She just makes you want to be your very best. There's this light in her eyes when she talks about music and her dreams...it's so beautiful. It makes you want to have something to sparkle about, too. And she has such a big heart. I swear everyone at McKinley has been touched by her in some way. All the janitors and lunch ladies say hi to her every morning and she remembers all of their names. And she's so brave, Mr. Jones! She can conquer anything. Anything and everything you throw at her, she knocks it out of the park and across the countryside. I call her my superhero, even though she hates it. She thinks it makes her seem superhuman or something, and Mercedes swears that she's just like the rest of us." Sam chuckled. "But she's not, sir. She's one in a million. And I remember that every day and count myself blessed to have known her, much less call her my girlfriend."

"And what exactly does this have to do with you defiling my daughter?" Mr. Jones asked, sliding a small paring knife across the table in between the red and green fruit.

Sam watched the sharp blade in the larger man's hands, tapping away on the sensitive flesh of the granny smith apple that he assumed represented him. "It means that I respect your daughter, sir. Anything and anything she shares with me...I don't consider it something that I've earned for being the right kind of boyfriend. It's an honor. Every time she trusts me enough to share a part of herself, I consider it an honor. I would never force your daughter to do anything she wasn't ready to do, and you know that about me, sir."

Mr. Jones nodded, twisting the stem off the top of his apple. "I do. I can say that much about you, Sam."

"And sir, with your blessing..." _Go for broke, Sam. You can do this. Be brave. "_I plan to make her my wife someday."

Mr. Jones coolly cut into the fruit. "That's pretty ambitious, son."

"She's my world, sir." Sam answered. "And I know you want to protect her. Believe me, I want to keep her safe from harm as much as you do. I'd stay away if I ever thought that I was the one hurting her."

The man's eyebrows rose, cutting another slice into the fruit. "Is that right? You'd stay away."

Sam slowly nodded. "But I'd fix whatever needs fixin' in me and try again. I may be a lot of things, sir, but I'm no fool. Pretty perhaps, maybe a klutz at times, but no one can ever say that Sam Evans is an idiot. Letting someone like Mercedes go without a fight would be the stupidest thing a man could ever do, sir."

Mr. Jones chuckled slightly, more than impressed. "I couldn't agree more. She deserves that kind of devotion."

Sam smiled, proud of his answer. "So, are you still mad at us for what we did?"

"No son, I'm not mad. Disturbed and slightly annoyed perhaps, but not mad." He answered, sticking the knife into the crisp body of the apple as a place holder. "I'll give you three reasons why."

"Okay?" Sam watched him rise from his seat and walk toward him. He jerked a bit when his large hand slapped his bony shoulder.

"The first reason is your honesty. That says a lot about you, Sam. I've seen you stick by my daughter through some pretty tough times and your actions alone speak volumes about your character. To tell the truth, I don't think I could've handled it at your age. It takes a real man at heart to step up to such challenges in a young relationship."

"Thank you, sir." Sam blew out a breath he didn't know he was holding and smiled.

"The second reason is this bank statement." He picked up the sheet and waved it in the air. "Now, if I know my strong-willed, independent daughter like I think I do, then I know for a fact that she went and purchased that room without any coaxing from you. She made this decision on her own and came to you about it afterward, am I right?"

Sam nodded. "But, I didn't protest."

"You didn't have to, Son. She's her mama's blood, too." Mr. Jones chuckled. "There's no changing her mind."

"You knew that she bought it by herself the entire time?" Sam asked, genuinely shocked. "So, why did you question me? Why the apples and the knife and the tone of voice?"

"That, my boy, brings me to reason three." Mr. Jones picked up both apples, holding it in front of Sam's face. "You see this one? The red one? This here's my daughter. Shiny, bright, ripe from harvest. Here's you, the green one." He wiggled the green apple in his hands, slightly bruised and browning around the edges where he'd cut. "It's gone through some things, been bruised and cut a few times, but it's still good. If you look cut away the outside, the inside is still pretty sweet and tender."

"Oh." Sam gave an awkward laugh, unsure of how to respond to his compliment.

Mr. Jones leaned in close, holding the apple between his mouth and Sam's ear. "But boy, if you ever hurt my daughter. If you ever make her cry or break her heart in anyway...if I even see one tear leave her eye after tonight is through..." Mr. Jones took a hearty bite of the fruit, crunching loudly in Sam's ear. With a fearful side glance, Sam could tell that nearly half of the apple had disappeared in his mouth. "Are we clear, Samuel?"

"Y-yes, sir." Sam nodded.

"Excellent!" Mr. Jones tenderly placed the red delicious apple on top of the pile, bringing the bowl to the kitchen counter. As he crossed, he idly stepped on the garbage pedal and tossed the devoured fruit over his shoulder, slam dunking it in the trash without a backwards glance. Sam swallowed hard. He got the message loud and clear.

"Oh, and Sam?"

Sam rose from his seat. "Sir?"

Mr. Jones turned to face him. He cracked a smile, then a soft chuckle, until several rolling laughs came out of him. Sam was utterly confused, but laughed along with him, hoping he wasn't on the butt end of the joke.

"If you really truly want to marry my daughter someday...if she says yes to you." He paused and nodded. "I couldn't think of a better son-in-law to join this family."

"Really?" Sam asked happily. "You mean it?"

Mr. Jones walked over and hugged him. Sam happily returned his embrace. "But she has to finish school first. No ifs, and, or buts about it."

"Yes, sir!" Sam smiled, patting his back. Mr. Jones grabbed his shoulders, looking Sam square in the eyes.

"I never hated you, Sam. I didn't always trust you, but I never hated you. I like to give everyone a fair chance, and you've proven that you deserve it. Treat my little girl right, son. She was my world before she ever came into yours."

"I'm gonna take good care of her, Sir. Until my last breath," answered Sam, grabbing the older man's shoulders as well. "Thank you for giving me the chance to love her for the rest of my life. I won't let you down."

"Don't let _her _down, Sam." Mr. Jones corrected. "She's the one who really matters."

Both men nodded and shook hands, arriving at a common understanding. When it came to the special little lady in their lives, Sam and Mr. Jones were always on even ground.

"Okay, she's ready!" Mrs. Jones ran down the stairs, dancing about with a large, shutter frame camera in her hands. "She looks dynamite! Sam, I hope you're ready!"

"I think so, Mama Jones!" Sam smiled, clapping and rubbing his hands in anticipation. Mr. Jones followed behind him to the foot of the steps, standing behind his fidgety wife.

"Patrice, you're gonna break the thing if you keep handling it like that." Joseph reached for the camera, but she held it just out of his reach.

"Excuse me, _whose _hard earned money went into purchasing this said piece of equipment? Especially after someone, who shall remain nameless, promised me he'd buy me one three years in a row and never followed through?"

"Yes, but…" He reached again, but she held it farther away, pressing a kiss to his cheek instead.

"No, dear hubby. My camera, my money, my _rules._" Mr. Jones chuckled when his wife's small hands struggled to hold the large body in place. "Okay, princess! It's show time!"

"I'm coming, Mama!" Mercedes called back. When she appeared at the top of the steps, Mrs. Jones could barely contain herself, squealing and jumping about.

"Oh, baby girl..." Tears came to her father's eyes, as he watched his beautiful little girl walk down in her heels and grow up before his eyes. With every step, he remembered the two year old, brown, chubby little bundle of joy that would run down to greet him from work. She was taller now, with a woman's frame, but her smile still warmed his heart the same way.

Mercedes locked eyes with Sam the moment he'd stepped into view. He'd forgotten how to breathe. He'd forgotten there was anyone else in the room. He slowly made his way between her parents and climbed two steps, leaning against the banister as he watched her come down.

She was a living, breathing Oscar, shapely and regal and rewarding to the eyes. The deep gold enhanced the yellow undertone of her skin, making it seem as if she glowed and shimmered all on her own.

"Hi, Sam." Her dark waves parted off center, framing her round face and gathering in a soft curl against her bosom.

"Wow." Sam couldn't take his eyes off of her form.

"Were you surprised?" she asked him.

"Wow." He repeated dumbly, mesmerized by the soft, brown skin exposed and eager for his touch.

Her giggle was soft and light. "I can't wait to hear your elaborate critique of my dress."

He took in the clingy fabric, molded against the curve of her breasts and hips. He swallowed hard at the sight of her split, and the expanse of brown thigh and calf that peeked through. Even her feet were 24 karat, from the thick, gold polish lining her French manicure to the bejeweled and glittering peep toe pumps she walked in.

"Wow." It was all he could say. _God, the things I could do to her with that dress wrapped around her ankles. _

"Oh, you look so adorable, baby! Isn't she just delightful, Sam?" Mrs. Jones squealed, proudly snapping picture after picture of her gorgeous teen. "Couldn't you just eat her up?"

"Oh, I could definitely eat her out, Mama Jones." Sam replied, lost in the twinkle of her glossed lips.

Mercedes snapped him out of it with a smack to the shoulder. He recognized his grave error immediately.

"UP! I meant UP! I swear!" Mr. Jones's menacing stare made his face flush. "I'm sorry! I just lost my words, that's all."

"You better find 'em quick, boy!"

"DADDY!" Mercedes exclaimed, frowning in disapproval. "He apologized and it's over. Don't pester him."

"Don't forget what we talked about." Mr. Jones warned Sam.

"Daddy, _please_ tell me you didn't give him that stupid apple talk," Mercedes groaned.

"It worked for grandpa," he argued.

"And my aunt ended up running off to be with the guy. We haven't seen her since," Mercedes retorted, hand on hip.

"But, baby girl..."

"No, daddy. It's done. Leave Sam alone," she said with finality. Mr. Jones softened under her threatening gaze.

"Well, at least cover up some. You've got your family jewels all exposed for the world to see." He picked up the shawl hanging over the banister to drape it over her shoulders, but she held his hand away.

"Daddy, I'm fine. I don't need any shawl." Mercedes insisted.

"You sure don't," Sam smiled, eyeing her rounded cleavage. She rolled her eyes, smacking his arm as she chuckled.

"But...you'll catch a cold!" argued Mr. Jones, reaching toward her shoulders again. Mrs. Jones snatched it away before he could wrap her up.

"Joseph, it's near the end of spring in Lima, Ohio. What kind of cold is she gonna catch? If anything, she can bring it with her." Patrice threw it over her shoulder for safe-keeping. "Besides, she doesn't need to cover a thing. She looks amazing."

"She sure does," agreed Sam, touching her cheek. She bashfully ducked her chin, growing warm from the attention.

"Thank you, baby." She quietly replied.

"Our baby has a shape. Why should she hide it?"

"I know she does, Pat, but...should the whole world get to see that first hand? There are gonna be boys all over the place, staring and lusting after her. Who knows what they'll be thinking! Are you okay with that?"

Sam considered Mr. Jones's words, growing concerned. "You know, maybe your dad's right, Mercedes. Maybe you shouldn't show so much skin."

Mercedes stepped back, obviously hurt by his words. "Why, Sam? I thought you liked the way I looked?"

"I do!" he insisted. "It's just that...we should be more careful. Since..."  
>"Since <em>what,<em> Sam?" she demanded. "What's changed?"

"What if someone tries something again, baby girl?"

Everyone grew silent. Patrice stopped snapping pictures the second his meaning registered. Both women slowly rested their hands on their hips and turned toward their men, gaping in disbelief.

"Really?!" They said simultaneously. Sam and Joseph shrunk under their angry tone.

"Why'd you have to go there, Joe? Huh? This is supposed to be a fun night!" Mrs. Jones cried.

"How can you be so closed minded, Sam? You of all people should know that how I'm dressed has absolutely nothing to do with my chances of getting attacked. I wore jeans and a shirt when Donovan attacked me. Was I asking for it then?"

"No! That's not what I meant?" Sam contended.

"Then what did you mean by _we should be more careful?_ If I wear a turtleneck, some slacks, and a hijab, will I be _rape-proof _then? Will I be an acceptable date for prom?" she asked, daring him to answer.

"You know that's not what we meant, Mercedes. Please don't take it so personally."

"Yeah, you girls are taking this thing _way _out of proportion!" Mr. Jones scoffed.

"_Girls, _Joe?" Mr. Jones groaned, realizing his second huge mistake. "Oh, are we now? Please, do correct me on what _girls _should think about themselves and their bodies. Please explain to me why _girls _should dress in fear for the sake of men who can't keep their hands to themselves, because I still don't quite understand."

"Pat...baby, c'mon now..."

"No, Joseph! Go ahead and correct me! Put me in my _proper place_!" she asserted, beckoning an answer with her hands. "Should we lock her up in her room? Would that be the answer? Or no, better yet, let's go the archaic route and build a tower to the sky and keep her there. That way, she could never tempt any man with her body and no one could touch her. Everyone's happy then, right?" Mr. Jones moved to speak. "Wrong, Joe. Because if a man sets it in his mind to force himself on a woman, he would find a way to scale that wall and get to our daughter. She knows how to defend herself now. She knows what to look for and what to do if anyone gets too close. She didn't have those things before. And my baby marched in that dress shop last month and she lit up over that gown. Our daughter felt like a princess in it, Joe! You want to take that away? You want to stop her from feeling beautiful because of your own fears? How dare you!" Joseph opened his mouth again. "I don't even want to hear you right now, Mr. Jones. Your voice is irritating me."

"Forget the shawl, then," said Sam. "I think you look perfect just the way you are."

"Oh, I _know_ I look good, Sam." Mercedes sassed. "I have mirrors all over my house. I don't need you to give me fashion advice on what looks good on me."

"But, I..." She stopped him with her hand.

"I asked for your opinion because I love you and I wanted you to like what you saw. I wanted this to feel like before, when you first saw me and picked me up for prom. I was hoping that we'd feel the magic again."

"Mercedes, I-"

"Do you know how long it took me to work up the nerve to wear something like this, Sam?" she asked him. "I used to spend hours every day after Donovan did what he did, agonizing over every shirt and pair of jeans I owned. I'd second-guess every choice, thinking 'Does this look like I'd want it? Does this make me look easy?' I couldn't wear capris for _weeks_, Sam. Capris used to be one of my favorite things, and I couldn't find the courage to wear them anymore. You know why? Because some creeper on the street made a stupid comment about how good my calves looked in them and it made me panic. Last week, I had to talk myself into buying back all of the tank tops I'd thrown away and explain to myself that I shouldn't be afraid of clothes. And _finally, _I found a dress that made me feel beautiful and sexy and feminine, all the things that I haven't felt in a long time. I've invested blood and tears to achieve this. No one's taking that away from me again, not you or daddy or anyone else in my life. I'll be damned if I hide my self-confidence under a piece of fabric so you two can feel more comfortable. How selfish of you, thinking that this night was only about how _you _think and what _you_ feel. "

Sam's eyes saddened. He felt like utter shit. "I—I don't even know what to say right now," he told her.

"We've both spoken, Sam. For the sake of our night, I think it's best that we don't say anymore right now. There is such a thing as too much honesty." Mercedes smoothed down her hair and walked past him, squeezing between her parents. Still angry with her father, she turned her back to him.

"Mommy, can we finish taking pictures in the living room? I think the light's better in there." she asked.

"Sure, bug." smiled Patrice, tucking a stray hair into the swoop of her daughter's bangs. "I want to get a good look at the back of your dress. The beadwork is stunning!"

Sam stepped down and stood beside Mr. Jones, watching their women and their ample backsides saunter away.

"Correct me if I'm wrong sir, but did we just get 'told'?" Sam asked, using air quotes. Mercedes stood within his line of vision, smiling over her shoulder as her mother took pictures of the crisscrossed beadwork Sam didn't get to see before.

"Yep. We most definitely got told, Sam." Mr. Jones answered, blinking at the rapid flashes of light from his wife's camera. She crouched down as Mercedes stretched her leg out, talking pictures of their daughter's shoes. "We screwed up pretty bad."

"How bad?" Sam asked, quietly and fearfully. Mr. Jones shrugged, offering little guidance.

"I'm not sure. It's still too early to call." He replied. "On a scale of one to ten, I'd say we're about an eight right now."

"Oh." Both men nervously fiddled with their wedding fingers, Mr. Jones twisting his ring and Sam rolled the string tied as a placeholder. Mercedes glanced toward them, and both men awkwardly smiled and waved in her direction. She looked away, barely acknowledging them.

Sam gulped. "That's not good at all, is it?"

"Nope." Mr. Jones answered, popping his lips. "You still wanna marry my daughter, Sam?"

Their eyes met, and Sam nodded without hesitation. "No question, sir."

"Well, welcome to your first tour of the doghouse, son. Marriage will get you pretty well acquainted. Stick around, we have movie nights." He joked. "I'm in the doghouse at _least _once a week."

"Once a week?" Sam exclaimed. "Isn't that kind of often?"  
>Mr. Jones chuckled at Sam's youthful naiveté. "Sam, if you're only here once a week, it means you're doing something <em>right.<em> Trust me, weekly visits are the sign of a solid marriage. They remind you of who's _really _in charge."

**O-O**

Along with the impromptu tour de punishment, Mr. Jones gave Sam a quick lesson on the art of begging and pleading—old school style. Sam had lost count of how many times he'd been on his knees, wailing like Keith Sweat before Mercedes made eye contact with him. She still refused to speak, but allowed him the honor of gracing her wrist with the corsage he'd bought for her. She fingered the purple carnations fondly, but was determined not to smile. She only graced their pictures with her pearly whites, after she insisted they take couple photos for "traditions sake".

Sam knew better. She had already found a way to forgive him but wouldn't let go of the façade, out of sheer stubborn will. But, he deserved it. What he implied was terribly hurtful, even if he didn't mean to hurt her.

He kissed her hand at the door for good measure, which did quirk her lips a bit, but it remained quiet between them as they walked to the limo.

"Mercedes, I honestly don't know how else to apologize. It was a stupid, thoughtless comment, and I'm sorry that it hurt you. Your dad and I only wanted to protect you from all the other idiots at prom who might want to take advantage. Believe me, we weren't trying to say that your dress was inappropriate."

Her steps were measured and slow beside him, almost dragging. She merely stared at the floor, lost in thought.

"Baby, please talk to me. Don't shut me out. Yell at me, hit me, but please don't shut me out. This silent treatment thing is scaring the hell out of me."

She stopped just in front of the limo door. He half expected her rage when she finally turned to face him. Her solemn tears were far worse. It hurt him in more ways than any slap to the face could.

"I don't think that we should go anymore," she said forlornly. "Maybe this whole night is a mistake."

_Nice going, Sam. You work to make this night perfect for her, and it takes you less than an hour to make her cry._

"Baby, don't say that. You look stunning. It would be a god awful shame to waste all of this gorgeousness. Besides, Prom was supposed to be our night to remember, right? It's our anniversary." His large hands cupped her cheeks, dabbing away the tears to protect her makeup. "One whole year of love between us."

"I'm just not excited anymore. And I don't feel so stunning right now. I feel...exposed." she answered, sniffling. "Maybe you and daddy were right. Maybe I shouldn't be wearing something so risqué." She shrugged her drooped shoulders, utterly defeated. "Maybe this dress isn't right for me."

"Are you kidding me, sweetheart? Do you see yourself? You were made for this gown. No, Mercy." He lifted her chin, meeting her eyes. "You were right. _We _were wrong. You're a goddess right now, baby. To hell with what I think or anyone else thinks. It took a little visit from sassy Jones to remind me of my place, but I totally get it. This is for you. You shouldn't have to feel pressured to hide anymore," he said softly.

"But, what if someone sees me and they think-?"

"Fuck what they think, Mercedes." Sam demanded, lovingly kissing her lips. "What the hell do _they_ have to do with your happiness? No what ifs tonight. I'm sorry we put any what ifs in your brain." His fingers slid to her nape, pulling her head closer to his. She sighed when their foreheads touched. "A wise man once told me that if we focus too much on the what-ifs in life, we'll miss all the what could be's that lie in front of us."

A humorless chuckle left her lips. "My dad says that all the time, but it's hard to see that far."

"Well, maybe we need more practice." Sam smiled. His hands slid down her soft arms until her fingers rested in his grasp. "Hypothetically, we _could _get in this limo, have a kick ass ride to prom, and put everyone to shame with our amazing entrance. You _could _strut through those gym doors like the vivacious diva you are and put every wannabe in their place."

"Vivacious? Someone's been reading." She commented. "Keep going."

"You _could _dangle a tall, blonde, green eyed date on your arm as your man candy and make him wait on you hand and foot. I'm thinking about five foot seven or so, broad shoulders, sexy LL cool J lips..." her lips started to quiver. "Is that a smile, Ms. Jones?"

"There was some lip gloss on my teeth. That's all." She softly swung their arms back and forth. "What else could happen?"

"Well...this debonair blonde man candy, who shall remain nameless for now, _could _use his charms to entice you to the dance floor. Maybe he'll get the chance sweep you off your feet with a slow dance or two." His arms circled her waist, holding her tight. "And since he knows so much this lady loves music, perhaps he could seduce you with his golden voice and sweet moves."

"Hmm..." Mercedes looked off, pretending to consider his proposal. "Well, I fully believe the golden voice. I think I've heard him sing a song or two. But, sweet moves? I don't know."

"Hey! No one insults the windy city!" She giggled then, wrapping her arms around his neck and falling into his shoulder. "On behalf of hypothetical man candy, I am deeply wounded! He had moves for days! These hips make the panties drop!"

Mercedes collapsed against his chest, dying of laughter. "He sounds very talented!" she chortled, a small snort escaping her.

"I don't think I appreciate your sarcasm," he deadpanned, though his smile as he watched her laugh belied the serious tone.

"I'm sorry. I'd _hate _to hurt his feelings. He sounds like a dream." She sighed, weary from her laughter. In a quiet moment, Sam started to sway, dancing her in a slow circle to a tune only he could hear.

"What are we dancing to?" she asked softly, relaxing on his chest.

"Heartbeats." He answered. "You hear it? Listen." Mercedes grinned until her pert nose wrinkled. "Buh-boom...Buh-boom...Buh-boom..."

"Your heart or mine?"

"It's the same beat. It doesn't matter." Sam looked down at her, kissing her forehead. "Hear it now?"

She nodded, resting her nose in the crook of his neck. Her nose rested against his pulse, and she counted the beats as they stepped in rhythm. "Buh-boom...buh-boom...buh-boom..." she whispered.

"If you go to the prom, you and your mystery date could do this all night," he reminded her. "And then, he could hold you close all night, and whisper his loving devotions in your ear during every song." He leaned in to rest his lips on her ear, whispering, "I want you with me for the rest of my life."

Mercedes hummed in contentment, enjoying the bristling prickle of his growing beard against her skin. "That sounds perfect."

"And then, he could kiss your neck..." She shivered as he demonstrated. "And worship your skin with praises of how gorgeous you look." He gently bumped her chin up, running his lips up and down her silken throat. "You're stunning," he whispered,

Her French tips clawed down his back as he spoke. "Sam...god," she moaned, crushing the satiny fabric of his tux jacket in her grasp.

"Then, he'd tell you exactly what the sight of you in that dress does to him as his fingers slide down your back, touching the exposed skin he'd been dying to touch all evening." He pressed his palms over her bare back, sliding down her spine, until he could swirl a finger in the small dip above her backside. Their lips grazed on his way to her right ear, and he growled, with an intense hunger she had never heard from him. "I want you. I want to slide my hand inside that split and explore until I can feel you dripping down your thighs. I want to know how long it takes for you to come undone." His hands crept lower, past the fabric, until he palmed her thong-clad backside. "This dress would look just as gorgeous bunched around your waist, with you on top of me, bouncing on my cock."

"Mmhm." She nodded, licking her lips. She tugged his belt, fiddling with the buckle. "Fuck me and never take it off."

"You've ruined me for other women, you know that? They don't even look the same anymore." He passionately kissed her lips. "When you took that first step toward me, it took every ounce of willpower not to fall to my knees and kiss your feet. You're my queen, Mercedes'," he told her.

"Okay, it's official. You won. I'm sold." She nodded. "You just can't tell my boyfriend about this. He'd kill you."

Sam gave a hearty laugh. "I swear it will stay between us. He sounds like a jerk, anyway. Why are you still with him again?"

Mercedes shrugged, tossing her hear. "I'm still kinda in love with him. Go figure."

"Kinda?" he asked seriously. "Was he that bad?"

She laughed and cupped his face, planting two tiny pecks on each cheek. "You infuriate the hell out of me sometimes, Sam Evans. You say things without thinking, have a horrible temper, and do things that make me want to strangle you. But I don't think moments like this would hurt half as much if I didn't love you like I do. It hasn't gone away and I don't think it ever will. And despite what happened tonight...I don't ever want it to."

"And you confuse me sometimes, Mercedes Jones," he replied. "I feel like I've known you forever, but I still can't figure out everything you're thinking. And don't act like that temper thing is one sided, because it's not." He smiled down at her. "But, you're my best friend. Every day, I get up and I can't wait to see you. I don't ever want to lose that. I love you, too." He stepped back and went behind her, opening the limo door. "So, shall we? We have memories to make, woman."

Mercedes smacked his arm and lifted her skirt to step inside. Sam stepped in behind her and closed the door. They drove off into the night, in better spirits for the night of their lives.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones watched them leave from the window, seeing them off until they turned the corner.

"So, Sam and I had a talk today...about marriage," Mr. Jones told his wife, stuffing his hand in his pockets with a nod. "I told him that I wouldn't mind, as long as she finishes her music thing."

"Joe, I wish you'd stop calling it a thing. It's what she loves, and you know she has a voice." Mrs. Jones pulled the curtains closed, turning off the lamp light in the foyer. "Besides, Victoria already told me that they'd given Sam the family ring this weekend. I knew it was only a matter of time."

"When did she tell you this?" he called back, shutting off the kitchen lights down the hall.

"It was only this morning. Don't worry, I'm not keeping any secrets from you." She assured, with a roll of her eyes. Joseph walked back to her, pulling her in his arms. "She really loves him, Joe."

"And he really loves her back, Pat." They stood for a quiet moment, reflecting.

"I give them a month."

"Ha!" laughed Patrice, starting up the stairs. "That long? I give Sam two days before he pops the question. Vicki and I already have a running bet with my Women's bible study group."

"Your women's bible study group bets on our daughter's relationship?" he asked in shock. "Since when?"

"Since last week's meeting! Bible study ain't just about Jesus, alright?" she retorted. "Now, come on upstairs. My back is in killer need of a massage, and you still have some apologizing to do."

Joe watched his wife's sexy frame sashay up the stairs. She turned and raised her eyebrows, confirming exactly what he was hoping would happen _after _the massage was over.

"I'll get the massage oil and the handcuffs." He grinned, rubbing his palms together. She disappeared into their room. "And, exactly how large is this pot? Can I join? I lost the last bet with my golf buddies over her and Shane and Stephen's still waiting for me to pay up. I need a sure thing...Baby, can we use the scarves instead? My wrists are still sore from last time." Mr. Jones trumped behind his wife, flicking the light switch over the staircase as he made his way to their room.

**O-O**

"Is this it? Are we here?"

Sam and Mercedes looked out the window and eyed the strange building. It was a dark, abandoned looking warehouse with a sheer white canopy covering the walkway. The shimmering white lights strewn throughout the fabric were the only source of illumination.

"Are you sure this is the right place, Sir?" Sam asked the limo driver.

The driver flashed the crumpled flyer in his hands and smoothed it out to point out the address at the bottom. "It's the same place on the flyer, Mac. I typed it in the navigation, and this is what we got."

Sam looked out the window once more, searching the darkness for any balloons or signs of prom life. Finding none, he decided to investigate.

"Stay here, Mercedes. I'm gonna go check it out." He said, climbing out his side of the limo.

"Okay. Hurr—" The slam of his door cut her off. "—ry back."

Her eyes drifted to the driver, who shot her a yellowed, crooked smile from the mirror.

"Lovely dress." He complimented, accent thick with a touch of something outside of Ohio. "It becomes you, dear."

"Thank you." She hesitantly replied, rubbing her exposed arms. The normal fears that accompanied compliments from strangers made her heart pound. She jumped when the locks on the door suddenly clicked closed all around her. The driver watched her eyes fill will terror and frowned in confusion.

"It was just the locks on the door. They lock automatically. Safety reasons." He explained to her, "I'm sorry if it frightened you."

"Unlock the doors." She said quietly, fearing he would hear her breath grow short and sense her fear. Every defensive move Blaine had taught her flashed through her mind in seconds. "Unlock them right now, or so help you God..."

He didn't understand her strange reaction, but shrugged and manually unlocked the doors from his side. "Look, I know there are a lot of creepers out here, but I'm not one of them if that's your worry. I have three daughters and a wife back at home."

"Didn't stop anyone before." She mumbled. Before he could argue, Sam came back and tapped on her window, motioning for her to wind it down.

"Did you find it?"

"Yeah, it's right out back. Leave it to Brittany to plan prom in the worst part of town without any signs. The rest of the crew are waiting out back with some other prom people. C'mon." he opened her door and gently reached for her hand. "Let's go dance the night away. I promised you the night of your life with the man of your dreams, didn't I?"

Mercedes smiled and stepped out, cautious of her dress rubbing against anything dirty.

"What's wrong? You alright?" Sam felt her hand shaking and quietly asked, "Something happen while I was gone?"

"Not really. It was just in my head. I'm fine." She answered.

"You sure?" he glanced at the driver, watching them from his seat. "Just say the word and I'll handle it."

The limo driver rolled down his window. "I'm sorry again, miss. I didn't realize it would get such a rise out of you. I didn't mean any harm, I swear it." He insisted. "I don't want this to escalate anywhere."

"What is he talking about?" Sam demanded, growing angrier by the second. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing, Sam! Can we not do this right now? It's fine." she told him, ready to end the conversation. "You're fine, sir." She told the driver. "I was just a little jumpy from earlier. No harm done."

"Great." He smiled, tipping his hat. "I hope you two have a great night. I'll be back at midnight, Mr. Evans, unless you call earlier."

"Thank you, Sir." Sam answered curtly, trying his best to remain cool. "We'll call you when our night is through."

"Very good, sir. Goodnight, ma'am." The driver zoomed out of the gravel driveway, disappearing down the street and into the night.

Sam's sage eyes tried to read her. She seemed more collected now, but he wasn't settled. "If something happened, you would tell me...right?"

Mercedes nodded and cupped his cheek. "Of course I would." She assured. "The doors locked in the limo and it frightened me. He gave me a compliment on my dress and I panicked. But I don't think that he had any ill intentions. If I suspected anything, I would've told you. It was honestly nothing."

Sam bit his lip and nodded, taking her word for it. It was all he could do. "So, we're ready to celebrate then?"

Mercedes linked her arm with his. "After you, my prince." She smiled, and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

His face reddened immediately. "Oh, gosh. Lady, you've got to stop saying that."

"Why? It's the truth. You are my prince. Besides, I love how quickly it makes you blush. So adorable."

"Cute to _you_." He grumbled, blushing even harder. Sam led her down the pathway until it led around back to a second larger door, adorned with multicolor lights and sparkly streamers. A large _Happy 90__th__ birthday_ sign was affixed to the double door entrance, and rainbow confetti of 9's and 0's was scattered along the patches of grass surrounding the waiting prom crowd. Santana and Tina were the first of the glee kids to spot the couple and greeted them with smiles and waves. Sugar and Erin, Joe's and Artie's dates respectively, squealed and jumped around when they finally caught sight of Mercedes in her gown. Mercedes blew them kisses until their running feet could reach her.

"Ladies! Don't you look phenomenal!" she gushed, running her fingers over Sugar's royal blue sequins and the mint green beadwork on Erin's halter straps. "I told you that blue was fit for royalty, sweetheart. Those curves are wor-king! And Erin, you look gorgeous as always. You should definitely buy more halter dresses, because your shoulders look killer."

"Hell, look who's talking! Teach us your ways, oh fabulous one!" Erin exclaimed. "You look like a whole lotta hell yes with a cup of sex appeal and teaspoon of hot fiya! You better WORK, diva!"

"I see someone's been spending extra time with Artie." Laughed Sam. "He really rubbed off on you, huh?"

Erin twirled a curly lock in front of her bashful smile. "I guess. I like spending time with him and stuff." She quietly answered. Her mane did little to hide her flaming cheeks.

"Aww! It's love!" Sugar pinched her new friend's cheeks. "Tré adorable. Love is grand. Your cheeks are almost as red as Sam's!"

"Hey!" The girls giggled and scampered off, joining Santana and the rest of the crew amongst the crowd of students.

"You know what sucks? I'm the only one in my family who gets Keebler elf cheeks every time I feel something. How lame is that? It's like some weird pale people curse or something." He lamented to Mercedes. "Like, God is up there thinking up all this awesome shit to create, and one day he's sitting there sipping on holy water with the angels and decides to give us little embarrassing quirky things to remind us that we're less awesome than him. Like 'Oh, you like having red hair? Isn't it lovely? Think you're big shit because your color's natural? Yeah, how about we throw some spots on your face and make a ginger Dalmatian'. Or, 'Oh! How you liking that dick? You having fun with it? Enjoy playing with yourself? Hell of a lot easier to pee, isn't it? No bleeding every month for you!' But, let someone kick you in the balls just _once, _and your Adam's apple pops out your ass. It's not enough for him to suck all the melanin outta me. Oh, _no_. If I sneeze too hard, my face has to look like I've been bitch slapped by the sun, too."

"You're so cute when you rant." Mercedes said sweetly. "And you talk an awful lot for someone with such kissable lips."

Sam abandoned his rant to look at his girlfriend, who had been lustfully eyeing his mouth since he'd started talking.

His little crooked smile left her wanting. "Oh, really?" he said, licking his lips. "Well, I've got a lot to say. I guess you'll have to shut me up."

Mercedes grabbed the back of his neck and gladly complied, making his face ten times more feverish that it had been. She giggled as she pulled away, rubbing his warm cheeks.

"My little Keebler elf." She pecked his lips once more. "My sexy little red face. What else can I do to make you blush, Mr. Evans?"

"Just keep looking at me like you are right now, darling." He quietly replied. He pressed his lips to her ear. "Everything else will have to wait until tonight."

Mercedes grinned at his attentions, until her eyes tightened and her nose scrunched. Her blush wasn't as literal as his, but her shy glance to the floor suggested the same kind of blood rush to the apples of her cheeks. "I've already got a few ideas. They're really creative, actually. You wanna hear them?" she whispered.

Sam nuzzled her cheek and nodded, lowering his ear to her lips. As she whispered her plans for him after prom, the ruddiness of his cheeks crept down his chin and up his jaw, looping and swirling along the shell of his ear.

"Mercedes...we're in public..." he chuckled, loosening his collar as she continued to whisper dirty words in his ear. His awkward smile quickly turned into a gulp, then a quiet, needy moan when Mercedes growled the last of her seductions into his ear, dragging his lobe between her teeth as she spoke.

"...and then, if you're too weak, I'll give you a break." She finished, kissing his lips. "I have a five minute maximum, though. I don't like my bed to stay cold for too long. Sound good?"

Her lover's bottom lip flapped as he nodded. "Great! Now, can we go inside? The sooner we start, the sooner we can get out of here."

"You know, I have no idea where this bolder Mercedes is coming from. But hell if I don't love it!" Sam exclaimed, sweeping her off her feet. She held his shoulders and braced herself, laughing as she bounced in Sam's running embrace.

"About time you two started breathing independently." Santana snorted, once Sam set Mercedes back on her feet. The vision in a mermaid gown pushed between the couple's joined hands, taking Sam's place with a taunting wiggle of her tongue. "You look lovely, chica. I expected nothing less."

"As do you, babe. Red will always be your color. I'm sure Brit is enjoying your clingy choice immensely." Mercedes admired the strapless, backless, plunging neckline of a frock Santana wore. "I mean, this is a dress, right?"

"Shut up." Santana bumped her friend's hips and hugged her close.

"Speaking of Madame president, do you know if there's any particular reason why she's making us wait out here?"

Santana shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I think she's still getting everything together. Tina and Sugar just went in to help her out. Brit kept going on and on about how perfect this has to be and how this was her 'best idea ever' yesterday. I don't think I've ever seen her so dedicated to something...other than me, of course." She noted. "She really put in overtime on this thing!"

Sam cut in between the girls, replacing Santana's arm around his girl's shoulders with a clear of his throat. Santana's scowl amused him. "Speaking of the blonde in turquoise..."

The crowd quieted as their class president appeared in front of the entrance doors, dressed in the flowing sparkly gown that had lost its appeal on Rachel in the dress shop. Unlike the brunette, Brittany's taller, athletic body gave the gown the life it deserved. Tina, dressed in a blood orange cinched number, stood on her left, twirling a deeply waved tendril of hair around her finger. Sugar swished and swayed to her right, appearing ready to burst with whatever announcement they obviously had planned.

"Ladies and gentleman of the student body," Sugar began, in her sweetest voice. "On behalf of Mckinley high school and a _most generous_ donation from my daddy, Brittany and I would like to welcome you to the prom of the century!"

The crowd of students clapped and cheered. "As your president and VP, we knew that it was our job to make this prom the best prom McKinley has ever seen. I worked really hard on all of the planning, so I hope you guys love it." Brittany announced with a smile. "Now, we both had a lot of great ideas for themes, but our good friend Mercedes actually helped us come to a final decision."

"_I _did?" Mercedes asked in shock, hand over her chest. "How? "

"Well, you made me realize how sucky this year has been to us. In fact, according to my research on Wikipedia, a lot of terrible stuff happened in the last couple of years. First, it was the Y2K bug, then the war in Afghanistan, then the hurricanes and natural disasters...school shootings, terrorist attacks, terrible Disney shows...I mean, how much are we supposed to take?!" exclaimed Brittany. "What happened to the days when Saturdays were meant for cartoons, PJs, and extra-large bowls of luck charms? Don't we miss summers when we used to hopscotch and double-dutch by the lake, before we had to grow up and get jobs? When almost all music was good, not just the ones with auto tune? Why can't we go back for a little while, y'know?"

"Well, for one, we'd need a time machine to transport us back in time." laughed Artie. His eyes quickly widened. "You didn't happen to stumble upon a magical English phone booth anywhere, did you?"

Brittany chuckled. "Even better! I'm gonna bring past back to us. Behind these double doors are the best of our childhoods, waiting to be explored. Guys...we're going back to the 90's!"

"Aw, hellz yeah!" Puck yelled, circling his fist as he cheered. The rest of the senior class was just as excited.

"Which kind of explains all of the decorations." Sugar added, throwing a handful of confetti in the air.

"They didn't have 90's decorations. I did the best I could." Brittany lamented.

Santana reached out to grab her girl's fingers. "I'm sure it's amazing, Brit." She smiled, kissing the back of her hand. Brittany mouthed a grateful thank you_,_ smiling back.

"Well c'mon, Brittany! Open the doors!" Joe insisted, jumping in place. The crowd excitedly chanted 'Open the doors!', louder and louder until Brittany was forced to cover her ears.

"Okay! Okay!" she laughed, urging them to calm down. "There are three rules that I have to tell you about before we go in."

"Fuck rules! Let's party!" The noisy crowd agreed with the random jock.

"No! Rules are important! If I don't go through them, then we can't go in." insisted Brittany. The crowd murmured their annoyance, but let her continue. "Rule one, everyone has to get on the dance floor at least once during the night. I don't care how bad your dance moves are, there will be no wallflowers at my prom! And if you don't have anyone to dance with, I will happily volunteer to be your partner on the floor."

Santana frowned at the whoops and suggestive whistles from the guys in the crowd. "Aftershe dances with her girlfriend, who's_ standing right here_!" she yelled, pointing at each offender.

"Rule two is that prom is for the grown and sexy only. That means, no stealing or spiking the punch or fighting or any of that crap. It's stupid and childish and ruins the fun. Rule two also means that whatever goes down here will stay here. If you wanna let loose and get a little freakier than usual, then this is the place for it! It's like Vegas, only not so far away. And it's definitely not as shiny and doesn't have casino tables..." Brittany squinted in confusion at her own logic. "Do we all agree?"

The crowd cheered their agreement.

"And lastly, the most important rule. If anyone for whatever reason says no or insists on stopping anything they're not comfortable with, then it stops. Period. Anyone who doesn't listen or tries to break that rule will be kicked out without explanation. It's not fun if the other person doesn't want to play. We respect each other's boundaries, or get sent home." Brittany gave Mercedes a nod and a wink. The girls shared secret smiles of understanding. "There will also be condoms handed out at the door for people who willingly want to take this night a bit farther. Be safe, guys. Safe sex and consensual sex is the best sex ever. Are we good on that?"

The crowd cheered louder than before, whistling and stomping their feet in agreement.

"Alright! Then, may I present to you—drumroll please, Tina." Tina drummed a beat on her thighs. "The awesome 90's!"

Brittany and Sugar opened the double doors, and the McKinley students rushed in and gasped in awe of the sight.

"You genius bitch." That was all Santana could say. Everyone else agreed with their stunned silence.

To the left of the hall was a large, rectangular stage decorated in silver glitter and large musical notes. The curtains were bright orange and tied off to the side, revealing a large projection screen on the downstage wall formed in the shape of the famous Nickelodeon sign. At the moment, Montell Williams's hit video _This is how we do it _played on the screen, and the bouncing old school beat brought the space alive with sound. Further upstage sat a large gold Karaoke machine with a set of mikes, paired and wrapped together. Though the machine itself looked professional, the microphones appeared to be fashioned after the plastic pretend mikes that they played with as children.

To the right of the hall was the round serving tables of snacks and beverages, filled to every corner with foods that were in every lunch box nearly a decade ago. There was even a cereal bar, complete with flavored NesQuick milk and straw spoons.

The dance floor, lit underneath by LED lights, laid in the center of the room, fashioned after the largest game of twister that anyone had ever seen. Magenta, orange, and neon blue strobe lights beamed from every corner of the ceiling, crossing and swirling around the dark room. As they moved, the students caught sight of the life size cartoon cutouts standing in the empty spaces. Their faces were removed to allow for silly photo opportunities. Couples and famous friendships were paired together, from Arnold and Helga to the Animaniacs to Ren and Stimpy, while famously single characters, like Johnny Bravo and Courage the cowardly dog, stood alone. Random memorabilia, from toys to novelties, were scattered all throughout the large hall. Ninety helium balloons taped to the walls and strewn all over the floor completed the entire scene.

"Seriously?! Brittany and Sugar, you rock!" Finn exclaimed. A disconcertingly feminine squeal escaped him when he caught sight of a back room with a large sign. "Does that say gaming room? Are those pinball machines? OH MY JESUS!" Rachel side eyed the hell out of his flailing. "And they have Nintendo 64 consoles in there! Who's up for a Mario Kart battle?"

"Fuck that! I wanna see if they have Mortal Kombat!" yelled a jock. "Last one there is getting their ass whooped!"

A hoard of them, along with a couple of eager girl gamers, barreled through the crowd to the back room, leaving their dates behind. Rachel barely jumped out of the way in time. Mike and Sam wisely chose to stay by their women, but that didn't stop them from salivating in hunger like the game nerds that they were.

"Boys." Grumbled Rachel, rolling her eyes. The next shrill shriek came from Quinn, who lifted her floor length black and white gown without a second thought to attach something she'd found to her ankle.

"I haven't seen one of these since I was ten!" Her eyes were alight as she jumped and spun the pink Skip-it around her ankle. "I begged my mom for weeks for one of these! Remember the commercials? But the very best thing of all..."

"There's a counter on this ball!" Rachel finished, running over to grab the blue one lying beside Quinn's feet. "These were so cool!"

"SOCK 'EM BOPPERS!" Artie and Erin screamed in unison, sliding the red and green inflatables on their fists to engage in a play fight.

Joe sped from the serving tables and ran towards Sam and Mercedes, sloshing the cups of punch in his excitement. "Guess what's in this punch? Just GUESS!" The couple took the cups, looked at each other, than shrugged and decided to test it.

They nearly choked on their drinks. "Is this Sprite Remix? Mercedes, this is Sprite freaking Remix!" Sam exclaimed, downing the rest of his cup. "No way!"

"And Tang!" she finished, noting the tart aftertaste and orange color. "How in the world did you guys get all of this? Brittany, this is insane!"

"Some things were harder to get than others. The game stuff was donated and Mr. Motta pulled a lot of strings to help us decorate, so I can't take the credit for it. I just came up with the ideas." Brittany admitted. "Did I do a good job?"

Santana spun and dipped her girlfriend, planting the wettest, sloppiest kiss she could on her surprised lips.

"Best. Prom. Ever." She whispered, kissing her again. Brittany swelled with pride.

"This night is going to be crazy amazing." She said softly. "I can feel it all over."

They were only ten minutes in, but it already seemed like Brittany would be right. Their night to remember had only begun.

**O-O**

A single, melodious tune rang throughout the Bailey household, the only noise in the silent kitchen.

"Ethel! Phone!"

The woman of the house wiped her cookie dough covered fingers on a hand towel with a sigh of long suffering and went to answer the call.

"Nearly fifty years of marriage, and the man still refuses to pick up a ringing telephone. Are the calls for me? No sir, all for him. Now I'm wife and secretary." The phone rang a second time, playing some digital rendition of _Joy to the world _that Erin had set since Christmas. "This girl and her Christmas ringtones..."

Ethel Bailey liked things plain and simple, but that daughter of hers always liked to try something new. Her spontaneity and zest for life were two of the things that had quickly stolen the elderly couple's heart. The early years of adjustment and therapy had been rough—emotionally taxing, even-but their love had pierced her hardened heart and allowed her beautiful spirit to shine through. She was their pride and joy after years of childlessness, and their little family finally felt complete.

Mrs. Bailey checked the caller ID on the third ring, making sure it wasn't an 800 number. The Kentucky area code made her stomach sink.

"Peace and blessings, this is Ethel Bailey." The graying woman cracked her arthritic knuckle, hoping to relieve some of the tension.

"Hello, Mrs. Bailey. I believe you were expecting my call."

Ethel sighed and stood quiet. Her fingers touched the frame of their framed family portrait on the counter, then the cherub cheeks of a prepubescent Erin smiling back at her. "Yes, I was. It's good to hear your voice again. It's been a long time."

"How are things?" asked the female voice, then shakily added, "How is she?"

"Things are better and she is doing fine." Ethel calmly answered. The spiraled telephone cord followed her over to her bowl of dough and cookie sheet. "She went out on a date with a nice boy tonight. He invited her to prom. She looked gorgeous in her dress. Her hair is red now, you know."

"It's red again?" the voice repeated, hope lightening her tone. "I remember that. I bet she's gorgeous. Isn't Erin a junior now? I didn't know that they had proms for juniors."

"Her prom date's the senior." Ethel corrected. "His name is Artie. Good, considerate boy. But, I'll tell ya, you'd never know it wasn't her prom from the way she talked about it. Erin was so excited to go."

"That's wonderful. I hope she has fun." The voice paused. "It's been a while since I've gotten pictures. My girls think that she's their age. I had to explain how impossible that would be." She laughed.

"I'll bet." Ethel laughed. "She gets bigger and more beautiful every day. You should see her."

An awkward silence loomed between them.

"That's why I called, actually." The voice replied. "I think it's time to meet face to face, don't you?"

Ethel's eyes closed in dread. She knew this day would come, ever since the first call a couple of years ago, but the mental preparation didn't make this moment any easier.

"Is it wise to do it now? After all, I'm certain you've heard the news. Donovan's alive, too."

"Yeah...I know." She sounded a bit choked up when Ethel reminded her. "That's why I have to come now. I should set things right. She deserves to hear my side. They both need me around right now. They need family, Mrs. Bailey." The voice quickly added, "Blood family, I mean."

"You can't just burst in and upset her life, Ana. These couple of weeks have been hell on earth for her. She needs stability now." Ethel warned. "As a Christian woman, I would never knowingly keep Rinny from her sister. But, as a mother, you must understand my concerns."

"Sure, of course." Ana sighed. "I just miss her so much."

"And Donovan?" The line went quiet.

"Of course. Donovan, too." Ana cleared her throat free of its raspiness. "He's blood."

Ethel took a moment to breathe and consider her options. In the end, Erin's well-being was all that mattered. As much as it terrified her to admit it, she knew that she didn't have all the answers a mother should when it came to her daughter's haunted past. Perhaps Ana's reappearance had come in divine time. Maybe having her sister around would heal Erin's heart in ways her and her husband never could.

"We are going to the hospital tomorrow afternoon to visit Donovan. It's a nice, open location where she shouldn't feel trapped. I will email you the location and you can call when you arrive. It should give me enough time to prep her before you meet. You can talk to Donovan at the same time, if you'd like." Ethel told her. "I think the more important question is, are you prepared to meet _them_?"

"Honestly, I expect the worst. Anything better than that would be a blessing." Ana explained. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

"I can't clean up this mess alone, and you had a hand in causing the spill. I'm just giving you the towels, Ana. This isn't a quick fix. It might be messier than we expect. I think that this meeting will answer a lot of questions."

"Will you be there?" The adult woman's small voice took her by surprise.

"Erin hasn't left my side since we've adopted her. I'll always be there. Will you?"

"I plan on sticking around this time, Mrs. Bailey." Ana answered. "No more running. Their big sister's coming back home, just like I promised I would. I'll stick around as long as they'll have me."

Ethel nodded, popping the filled cookie sheet in the oven. "What about your career? Singing keeps you on tour, moving all around the world."

"A singing career won't make me whole. Only family can do that."

"Only God can do that." corrected the elderly woman. "Family ain't no substitute."

"I just want mine back. I want the chance to keep my word." Ana told her. "If I have to fight tooth and nail for it, I will earn their trust again. You and God are my witnesses."

**O-O**

**Just some food for thought (there are no right or wrong answers): **

**Do you perceive Mercedes's new "sexual awakening" as a result of her healing or as a sign of fear and possible regression? **

**Do you feel that Sam and Mercedes use sex as a crutch or as an opportunity to explore a deeper level of intimacy? **

**Is it wise for Erin to meet Ana right now? Why or why not? Would it hurt or help, in your opinion?**

**Do you agree with the "haunting score" analogy Mercedes made about survivors of sexual assault? **

**Thanks for reading! As always, review and PM your opinions and thoughts on the chapter. Tell me your favorite parts! I love hearing from you.**


	28. Chapter 27 Acceptance (3 of 3)

**_A/N: _Hello All! Here's the next chapter for you, the rest of prom in its entirety. Big thanks to my beta Jill as always for taking time out of her life to edit for me. I love you so much, Mama!**

**And a special shout out to all of my veteran readers, those who have stuck by me through all the craziness. There are too many of you to name (and a couple of you who are loyal readers and PM your reviews), so to avoid missing anyone, I love you all from the bottom of my heart. You keep me writing.**

**Hope you enjoy this little party I've conjured up for you! The names of the songs mentioned in the chapter (along with some of the songs I've envisioned in my head for prom) are listed at the end. Copy and paste the names into youtube and jam along as you read! Take a trip down memory lane...**

**Enjoy, and please don't forget to review and share your thoughts with me!**

**O-O**

**_Flashback_**

**_Friday afternoon—after Sisters' Circle meeting_**

**_One day before prom_**

"_You do know that we have to talk about it eventually, right? You've been avoiding it for the past couple of sessions."_

"_I don't know what you want me to say. My attacker comes to my nationals competition and almost kills all the people I love. What am I supposed to say about it?" Mercedes asked, toying with the small metal pendulum on Bee's desk. The steady, swinging metal boat gave her something else to focus on, something less intimidating than the counselor's knowing eyes. "It was scary. I felt like we were all going to shot to death on that stage. That would have been ironic, huh? Performers who desire the stage end up spending their final days in a pool of their own blood, as thick and red as the theatre curtains that surround them."_

"_That's a colorful way to put it. You really are a talented with words, Mercedes." Bee complimented, notating on her yellow notepad. "Are you going to write a song about this one day? I bet it would be a hit ballad."_

_The young adult chuckled, redirecting the swinging boat with her finger. "No, I think this part of my life will have to stay off of the charts. I'd rather leave this memory in the past."_

"_Why is that? Everyone you care about survived."_

"_But someone died that day." Mercedes shared a brief, pained look with the older woman. "Another someone was injured. And whether or not I think that they deserved it, I can't help feeling like I caused all of this chaos. No one should have died over something that happened to me. My friends shouldn't have been there." Mercedes grabbed the swinging pendulum, stopping its motion. "Sam shouldn't have been threatened like that."_

"_Ah, I feel like we might be getting somewhere." The counselor removed her glasses. "Sam was the one on the other side of Donovan's gun. He could have been shot right in front of you. I'd want to forget that, too." nodded Bee. Mercedes didn't respond. She just resumed the swinging of the pendulum, focusing her energies of the way the silver shone under the fluorescent lights. But try as she might, she couldn't seem to stop the tiny tears that pooled in the corners of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks._

"_Did we strike a nerve, honey? Tell me what you're thinking."_

"_I just..." She sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a tissue from Bee's desk. "Every time we've been separated, it's always because of me. When he left for Kentucky, Sam wanted to stay together. I was the one who told him that we should just be friends. I tried to pretend like the summer was just another teenage thing, no big deal. It killed me, but I told myself that it was better for both of us, because was the mature one in the relationship who remembered that good things like this didn't last long for the young. The moment he left, I realized what a mistake I'd made, but it was already too late. Then, he comes back, but I ignore him. I tell him that I'm already with Shane. But, he gets me anyway. He always manages to get to me somehow, you know? It's like..."_

"_He knows you better than anyone else does." Bee answered._

_Mercedes nodded. "Exactly. But I'm smart enough to face what we have this time. I don't tell him no, I just tell him to wait for me. I break his heart every day that I'm with Shane, kissing him and laughing with him...eating with him at lunch. I tell myself again that it's for the best. That I can't break Shane's heart because I love him in a different way, and that's enough to keep up appearances. I didn't even think about the fact that lying to Shane was hurting all of us. I was really trying to protect myself from having to break up with him and cause him pain. I know everyone thinks I'm this ferocious diva who's always ready to throw down, but I hate fighting. I only fight because I have to, not because I enjoy it. I want everyone around me to be happy."_

"_What changed your mind, then? What made you step out of your comfort zone and finally make the right decision?"_

"_Selfishness, really." Chuckled Mercedes."You know what really sucks about love? When the person you care about is hurting, you feel every bit of it. Every time I had to look at Sam, it felt like a fist was slowly crushing my heart. It was unbearable. I couldn't take it anymore. We just...we had to be together. I couldn't keep hurting us like I was."_

_Bee laughed to herself, taking off her glasses. "You know, you say you were being selfish, but your explanation sounds like it was for mutual reasons. You were both going through a lot being apart."_

"_I guess so." Mercedes shrugged. "Shane's face was so broken. I'd never seen him so hurt before, at least not because of something I'd done to him. But, I got myself together, did the concert, and told Sam how I really felt about him in front of everyone. And finally..." Mercedes smirked, remembering how Sam picked her up and kissed her. "We were back together, like we should have been. Everything was beautiful."_

"_Then what happened? What changed everything again?" Bee frowned and noted how her client's shoulders instantly hunched over at her question._

"_We had the dumbest fight, Bee. I thought he was being controlling, when all he was really doing was looking out for me. He had a bad feeling and told me not to go, I pushed back and said I was going anyway...I told him that I might not be his girlfriend when I came back."_

_Bee hissed through her teeth. "Ouch. Strong words after such a strong reunion. Where do you think that came from?"_

_Mercedes finally met her counselor's eyes. "Shane used to be a bit bossy. I hated it with a passion."_

"_Oh, I see, projecting one relationship's problems on another relationship. That does tend to happen when you end one and start another in the same day. It sounds like a lot happened on that Friday. Emotions must have been high."_

"_You're right. I never thought of that." Mercedes frowned. "Do you think that clouded my decisions?"_

"_Possibly. Only you can answer that. The only thing I will say and continue to reiterate is, despite how or what you were feeling that day, Donovan and his boys had no right to do what he did. It doesn't matter what happened, if you didn't say yes, then it was assault. Agreed?"_

"_Yes." Mercedes repeated the counselor's advice like an old adage."Rape and assault is never our fault. No always means stop."_

"_That's right." Bee answered, smiling. She replaced her frames and scribbled down more notes."Now, let's skip ahead a bit. How's your relationship with Sam now?"_

_Mercedes brightened instantly."It's amazing! It's better than it ever was. I feel confident and strong with him. We aren't afraid to try things anymore. It's natural, you know? I feel like a woman again."_

"_That's wonderful!" exclaimed Bee. "I'm beyond happy for you. Have you been following my advice and taking it slow when it comes to sex?"_

"_Yes, of course! We've been really careful ...most times."_

"_Most times, Mercedes?"_

"_Well..." she shyly bit her lip and looked away. "Sam may have started something in the library that I wanted to finish in the bathroom...without protection."_

_Bee sat back in her chair. "That doesn't sound like the careful young woman I know. What happened?" she asked, in as neutral of a tone as possible._

"_I honestly don't know, Bee." Mercedes answered. "I knew that it was wrong and dangerous, but...I just had to feel him again. I missed being close to him and loving him in that way. I needed him so desperately, more than when we'd tried before. I found this...desire for him, you know?"_

"_Do you think that came from the lack of sex in your relationship or the rebuilding of intimacy?"_

"_What do you mean? Maybe it's...both? What's the difference?"_

"_Sex and intimacy are as different as being rich and being wealthy." Bee explained. "Rich means you have stumbled upon something valuable and have been lucky enough to have gotten a lot of it. Lottery winners are rich. Contest winners, even. But, being rich is usually temporary. I read of a janitor once that won sixteen million dollars and spent it all in one night! He bought the clothes, the cars, the women...all the things that brought him pleasure. But, when morning came, he went back to mopping floors and sweeping up school halls. He was happy as hell, though. He got to live out every fantasy he'd ever wanted to, and genuinely enjoys making an honest living now. The money allowed him to enjoy himself in ways that his salary couldn't. Now, wealthy people are the Oprah Winfreys and Bill Gates of our generation. They have just as much money as the rich do, not always from earning it like my examples have, but they decide to invest it in things that will promise to double and triple their wealth. Sure, they spend wildly on occasion, buying things that normal people like me could only dream of, but most of their money is invested; they give a majority of their wealth only to worthy causes. More often than not, the wealthy stay wealthy because they sew their money in fertile ground and nurture their investments. Do you understand the difference?"_

"_Sure. That's really clear." nodded Mercedes. " I just don't understand how it relates to sex and intimacy."_

"_Instead of money, your body is the entity of value. Some women don't understand that. They believe that they've found a worthy candidate and give themselves to those that aren't worth the investment. They expect some substantial and life changing return, but the relationship turns out to be nothing more than a quick tumble in the hay to relieve some tension. Their partners aren't in it for the long haul. It's a temporary thing, pleasant and fleeting. Does that mean that they are worth less if they decide to live their lives that way? No! Absolutely not. There is nothing wrong with satisfying your sexual urges in a responsible way. But, you have to keep in mind that you are spending for pleasure, not for return. Don't expect to gain anything other than the warmth and satisfaction of his body, because it's all you're asking of your partner. In the morning, you leave the same as you came, only a lot more relaxed."_

"_I think I understand now." Mercedes chuckled. "So...intimacy is like wealth then, right? The return is the emotional connection."_

"_Exactly." Bee agreed, tapping the tip of her nose to show her she was spot on. "In a relationship, that's what you need. Spending carefree is nice, but eventually, if you're sticking with this person, you'd like to gain more than a climax. You want the gentle touches and the loving words. You want the soft, gentle sex as much as the hard, pounding...well, you get the idea. Intimacy holds the emotion. The mind and soul are just as invested as the body. The gain is the growth of the relationship. It flourishes and evolves, becomes something more. Instead of an I, you wake up each morning and gain an us. You see?"_

"_I do. And I like the way that sounds." Mercedes smiled. "I definitely want that."_

"_So, here's the question I'm going to leave on the table for reflection. You can give me an answer when you figure it out. That moment that happened in the bathroom...were you just looking to enjoy yourself a little and relieve some tension, or were you searching for the gain that intimacy brings? Are you hungry for Sam's body right now or his heart? There's nothing wrong with either one, but I do think that you should identify which one it is before you go all the way. And I strongly urge you to communicate your desires with Sam before you decide to go further. It's always a good idea to make things clear with your partner. The last thing you'd want is to wake up to resentment. He has to be okay with whatever you're looking for to properly participate. Do you agree?"_

"_I do." nodded Mercedes. "I want us both to be on the same page."_

"_And Mercedes..." Bee continued, closing her notepad and setting it on her desk. "I also want you to reflect on the pattern in your romantic relationships, especially with Sam. It's nice to do for the sake of other's feelings, but what of your own? Have you ever made a move because you realized it was good for you and another person? Why does it have to be either you or someone else that ends up happy? Can a decision you make be the best decision for everyone involved?"_

"_You mean, like when I finally broke up with Shane?" she asked._

"_Exactly. What you call selfish is actually a very healthy realization. I would love for you to explore that for our next session." Mercedes nodded and stood, heading toward the door. "And please, for my sanity, use condoms, will ya? Throw some birth control pills and spermicidal foam in there for good measure. I'd hate to see you turn into a statistic over five minutes of passion. Okay?"_

"_Yes, mom." Mercedes joked, winking as she left her office._

"_Hey, I am not joking young lady!" Bee cried out. "Do it again and I'm sending you to your room!"_

**O-O**

"Mercedes?"

Sam's gentle touch on her shoulder brought her back to the present. "What? Yes?" The irony of Tamia's _Imagination_ blasting through the speakers at that very moment wasn't lost on her.

"Are you back? Did I pull you out of that chaos in your brain?" he laughed, rubbing her arm.

"The Helga and Arnold cutouts are finally free. Puck's guarding it for us. They're totally us, right? Misunderstood romantic with a poetic soul and nerdy chic blonde who always wears plaid and gets teased about his deformed body part...it's perfect!"

"Awesome!" she laughed. "I've always felt like I had a unibrow in a past life."

"Do you have a secret gum shrine of me in your closet, too?" Sam asked her, weaving through the dancing crowd with her.

"Ugh, you know I would never! Next to my heels and Jordans? There is nothing cute about flies and germs." Mercedes answered in disgust, following the lead of his strong grip. "Besides, I've already told you how I felt about you. I don't need a gum statue. I have the real thing to kiss."

Sam stopped in front of the cutouts with a smile and turned to kiss her. "I love kissing you."

"I love kissing you more." She smiled back. She giggled when he pulled her in by her waist and dipped her for another kiss. "C'mon, football head. Let's go take some pictures. "

"It's Trouty Mouth to you, Pataki." Sam escorted her from behind the figures and took his place behind Arnold's cutout face. Mercedes pouted and Sam laughed aloud when Artie wheeled a step stool for her to stand on. Her shorter frame barely reached the face hole without it.

"Not funny, dork." She pouted, poking his side. "I'll see you outside on the playground at 3."

"Make it 2:30, Jones. I'm not afraid of you." Their playful scowls to each other matched their characters perfectly on camera.

**O-O**

After their pictures, Sam wanted to go to the prom kiosk right away to get their pictures. Mercedes had other plans, suddenly demanding that they run over to the game room.

"Ow! Superwoman, do you mind easing your super grip? You're crushing my hand." Mercedes relaxed her grip but continued to pull him, eyes set on her goal. "Where's the fire? We could've gotten our photos and left right after. I heard that they used those instant Polaroid cameras. You know, the ones that print your pictures with that white border and you have to fan it to make the image appear faster. Remember those? How cool is that? I think my dad still has his in the attic." Sam reminisced over the loud party music.

"We can go back and get them later." Mercedes answered, nearly sprinting when the crowd cleared and the brightly lit room was in their sights. She let go of Sam's hand and staked her claim on an empty gaming station, equipped with an untouched PlayStation, two controllers, and a 32" TV with a host of games stacked beside it. "I spy a gaming system that's missing two expert gamers, and you are way overdue for a virtual butt whooping from yours truly."

"Is that so?" Sam replied, laughing at her bravado and challenging glare. "Name the game. I'll wipe up the floor with your sexy little ass, Jones."

"Street fighter. And for your information, there is absolutely nothing little about my ass. Pay better attention, you'll be kissing it later." Mercedes sassily retorted, giving her backside a quick wiggle and smack.

"Meow!" Sam cried in jest, clawing the air. "Do retract those claws, Ms. Jones. You might scratch an eye out." He picked up the clear blue controller just as Mercedes snatched up the sparkly magenta one.

"An eye? That wasn't where I was aiming at all." She briefly glanced at his crotch with a smug smile. "I'll take you down in two rounds, tops. Get ready to ride my dick and cry uncle."

"The only one riding dick here is you, lady. Trust me," Sam said, patting his crotch.

"Now or later?" The lovers shared a flirtatious glance.

"Ooh, I love it when we nerd foreplay." Sam said with a small shiver. "Don't you worry. Everything will remain intact and fully functional for my victory. Try to control the volume of your screams when I spank you with my sweet moves. We'll see who's riding who then."

"Don't talk about it, Evans." She slapped the power button on the console and snapped her fingers, starting the game. "Be about it."

"We should wager on this," he suggested, putting his game face on.

Mercedes gave a naughty smirk at his suggestion, keeping her focus on the animated screen. "Loser has to be on the bottom."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "It's a bet. I'll even throw in a pillow for you to bite when I take advantage of my victory fuck."

"Kiss on it," demanded Mercedes.

The couple leaned in and sealed their promise with a quick peck, then went right back to choosing their characters.

"Make sure the pillowcase is satin." Mercedes smiled, just as the virtual referee called the start of the fight. "'The friction from polyester might make your lips blister."

"Big words from such a short woman." Sam laughed, throwing his first combination move. "Big words you're gonna eat!

**O-O**

His Ryu went K.O. within the first five minutes. He threw away a potentially winning combination move when her Dhalsim transported behind him and yoga blasted him in the back. They both used Lee in the second fight, but somehow Mercedes managed to beat him in less time with the exact same maneuvers he'd used. Clearly, Sam had underestimated her gaming skills. Mercedes would never let him live this moment down.

"So, what was that about spanking my ass with your sweet moves?" she sang, rubbing noses with him in her gloating.

"You practically cheated! You told me that Street fighter was the only fighting game your dad let you play. I bet you know every move backward and forward." He pinched the dimple on her glowing left cheek. "You're lucky you're so cute. I might've challenged you to best two out of three."

"That's crap and you know it. I still would've beaten you. You just hate losing to me." Sam rubbed his lips against hers to quiet her, smiling at the glint in her eyes.

"I'll admit it. You won. But honestly, I don't feel like I've lost anything." His voice dropped to a whisper as he focused on her lips. "I'm actually feel like I've gotten lucky."

"Not yet you haven't." She sweetly replied, gently nibbling his lower lip. "That's for tonight, cowboy."

The new nickname intrigued him. "Cowboy? Does that come with an all-night ride?" he asked with a raise of his brow.

"Depends." she replied, flicking the tip of her tongue against his pout. "You think you can stay up for it?" She wrapped her arms around his neck just as he pulled her waist, hugging her close.

"Definitely," he promised, leaving a searing kiss of desire in the wake of his words.

Mercedes pulled away and contentedly smiled, enjoying the tingly prickle coursing through her body from his affections.

"Oh no...oh goodness, Sam." Her pleasured smile turned into a grimace. "We're becoming _that_ couple."

"What couple?" he asked. Sam only asked out of courtesy. He knew exactly what she meant, but found himself preoccupied with the press of her breasts against his chest and baby soft smoothness of her cheek rubbing against his.

"That couple that always finds every nonsensical moment in the world to kiss and touch." She said.

He leaned back to meet her eyes. "Does that bother you?"

"I...I don't really know," she answered, frowning. "We weren't the PDA type when we first got together. Now, I don't care so much anymore."

"That's good, right?" asked Sam, kissing her chin. "We're more open now. We don't have to worry about what other people say or if they try to interfere. We're solid."

"Yeah." The thought reassured her. "We are solid, aren't we?"

"Like golden ice." he replied. "So, is this okay with you? Can I kiss you in public?" He ran his finger across her lips. "I can't promise that I'll be able to resist if you won't let me."

"It's okay." She nodded, closing the gap between their mouths to prove it. "I've just never been loved so openly by a guy before."

"Well, you better start getting used to it. I plan to take advantage of my boyfriend privileges as often as possible." He kissed her cheek and set their controllers on the table. "Wanna go dance? Dates with me come fully equipped with a night full of getting jiggy on the dance floor."

She cackled at the archaic term. "Jiggy? Baby, the nineties called. They want their lingo back. We better leave before this becomes permanent."

Sam gasped like a valley girl. "Loser, Loser, double loser, as if, whatever, get the picture, duh!" he sang in his best_ Clueless_ voice, forming an L on his forehead with his fingers.

"Talk to the hand, 90's reject. Let's go dance." Mercedes laughed while pulling her ridiculous boyfriend to the strobe-lit, colorful allure of the dance floor.

**O-O**

The first thing Sam did was run over to the DJ booth and requested the Will Smith classic. And after the couple led their peers in the famous "Jiggy", the crowd wanted more line dances. The party mood lasted well into the electric slide and Macarena, with a bit of Digital Underground's _Humpty Dance _thrown in the mix. Mike and Artie took that little dance break time to show off their moves, using the twister fashioned polka-dots as bases for their helicopter spins and spring board flips. After an intense round of jumping and pop-locking to underground techno hits, the couple was spent. They were finally able to break away and find their table, during the cool-down number of Mariah Carey's _Heartbreaker._

"Sam, my feet are killing me and I love it!" Mercedes yelled about the blasting music, enjoying the rush of adrenaline through her veins. "This is the best prom ever!"

"I know, right?" Sam yelled back just as excitedly, pulling out her chair for her to sit. "I wish school was always like this! I'd never leave! You feeling thirsty, babe? I'm dying."

She eagerly nodded, touching her parched throat. "Punch, please? The kind Joe brought us earlier."

"Punch for my lady, coming right up!" Mercedes grinned at his retreating form, hopping and skipping through the crowd like a kid during recess. She'd never grow tired of loving him. Every day was a new experience, a fresh adventure that they created together. She'd never possessed something so magical, and the idea of forever with Sam made her burst into private, happy squeals.

**O-O**

Sam two-stepped and moonwalked his way to the punch bowl, bopping to his own happy tune as he poured their drinks. For someone with two left feet in everyday life, he felt unusually spry and coordinated tonight.

Mercedes always had that effect on him.

She made him want to backflip and cartwheel all around the building. Self-respect restrained that impulse of course, but the excitement coursed through every limb in waves. He couldn't keep still if he wanted to. Loving her made Sam want to spring out of his skin and fly.

"Well, well! Someone's looking extra fly tonight!" Sugar sauntered over to him, touching his lapel and whistling her approval. "And this might sound weird, since you're a guy and all...but I swear that you're glowing!"

Sam didn't even protest it. His joy had no bounds. "I have the best woman in the world with me at the best prom ever and I'm having the time of my life. I've over the moon, Shug!" he giddily answered, laughing at how ridiculously pre-pubescent his voice sounded. "Seriously, I've never been this excited to be alive."

"Whoa, slow down there, happy!" Sugar took a step back, wary of the two full cups of punch in his trembling hands and how close he was to her gown. Sam noticed and quickly set them down on the punch table, wiping his sweaty hands on his tuxedo pants.

"That's awesome, Sam. I'm really happy for you guys. I hope that I have what you guys have one day." She said with a smile, sighing in want.

Sam glanced behind her and grinned. "It seems like you're well on your way to your own happiness. I'm sure Joe is more than willing to help you find it." He nodded to the figure across from her, staring intently at their conversation. Joe shamelessly watched his date, wearing the same awestruck doe eyes that Sam had when he thought about his Mercy. Sugar caught his stare and gasped. The lovers bashfully looked away, nibbling the corners of their smirking lips.

"Sam, can I ask you something? About love?"

"Sure, squirt." He answered. "What's up?"

"Well, I really like Joe and I think that he really likes me..."

"Seems like it." Sam chuckled, catching the dreadlocked boy staring in their direction yet again. "You guys are great together. I couldn't have paired it better."

Sugar's animated eyes widened and brightened. "Really? You think?" she smiled, twirling her hair. "Well, how do you and Mercedes make the awesome times last? You guys have had, like, a year being on again and off again. How do you prevent falling out of love?"

"That's easy." Sam shrugged, taking a sip from his cup of punch. "I find a new thing to fall in love with every day. The moment that a day just becomes another day, instead of being another chance to show the person you love how much you care about them, then you need to find the magic again. Do whatever it takes to keep it." Sam looked over to his girlfriend, laughing and smiling with Santana and some of the other girls. "Like right now, I'm head over heels for her laugh. She hates it, thinks it's loud and unladylike, but I love how her sound fills up a room. Her laugh is like an instant atmosphere changer. Everything could suck about life, but if I get to hear her laugh just once, I know that everything will be alright. I can make it another day. She's happy."

"Wow...that was beautiful." Sugar swooned. "Mercedes is a lucky woman."

"Joe is a lucky man," said Sam, winking at his little glee sister.

"Okay folks, it's 9 o'clock. You know what that means! KARAOKE!" Brittney yelled over the sparkling mike, making the crowd cheer. "Now, you know the rules, guys. Since this is a 90's prom, only 90's music is available. And, please be nice to the people that can't sing. This is karaoke, not American Idol. You're allowed to suck," she quipped. "And since tonight is all about romance, why don't we have some of the lovers dedicate some songs?"

"I know that I'm a sucker for boys that sing." Tina added, standing beside her. Mike pouted in the crowd. "And dance." she added, smiling at her boyfriend. The balm to his bruised ego brought back his smile.

"Now, let's get this karaoke party started right! Woo!" Brittany yelled, hopping off the stage. The DJ filled up the silence with filler party music until a brave soul came up to start singing.

"Sugar, could you do me a favor and bring this punch over to Mercedes? I need to talk to the boys about something." Sam handed her both cups and walked away, waving to his crew of glee boys. "Dudes! We've got business!"

"Go win her heart, Sammy!" Sugar cheered, waving her hands in the air. Of course, she 'd forgotten that they were holding punch, and a bright orange drop spilled over the edge of the cup and splattered on the front of her dress. "Damn it! Does anyone have a napkin?" she called out. "Can a sista get some Tide-to-go? A handi-wipe? Something!" She remembered her task, and realized that her girls might be able to help her. "MERCEDES!"

**O-O**

"MERCEDES!"

She heard her name over the Latin beat blasting through the speakers. She and Santana were just getting their sway on to Marc Anthony's _You Sang To Me _when Sugar came running over. Brittany and Tina came over as well, greeting their girlfriend and best friend respectively.

"Guys, look at what happened to my dress!" Sugar stomped and pouted, pointing to the offending stain. "I'll never get it out! It's Versace!"

"Relax, mija! Let Momma Snix see." Santana pulled her by the top of her dress, analyzing the stain. "Don't worry, we can get that out. I've gotten worse stains than this in my cheerleading days. Come with me."

Sugar tripped behind her Spanish mama. "Here's your punch, Mercedes. Sam said to bring it to you. He went to talk to the boys about something," Sugar said miserably, pouting as she followed Santana to the bathroom. Mercedes gave her a consoling pat as she passed.

"I bet they're planning some musical number. Mike promised me some boy band action," Tina mused, answering Mercedes's unspoken question. "You gonna sing, babe? The machine's open."

"I don't know, T. I don't think it's such a good idea." Mercedes hesitantly answered, fussing with the petals on her wrist corsage. "You guys should sing, though."

Brittany frowned. "But, it's not gonna be any fun without you. How come you don't want to perform with us?"

"I don't know. I just...don't." Mercedes looked away from their squinting, questioning eyes. "It's not fun anymore."

"Singing's not _fun _anymore? Since when?" Mercedes's fearful glance toward the stage gave her all the answer she needed. "Honey, you singing on that stage has absolutely nothing to do with what happened to you. Please don't let that stop you from doing what you love."

"I feel guilty, guys. The last thing we need is more attention. If you guys want to sing, then go ahead. I'm gonna sit this round out." Mercedes took her seat and sipped her punch, reinforcing her decision.

"How many rounds are you gonna sit out, Mercedes? How much more are you going to let this thing take from you? The Mercedes I knew never let fear stop her from doing what she knew she was destined to do. You're gonna let Donovan take that all away?" Her defeated shrug made Tina even more frustrated. "Why? It's okay for you to enjoy yourself! Stop generalizing experiences! You'll never be a star if you refuse to pick up your mike again."

Sam ran over at that very moment, sweating and smiling like crazy. "Did you hear, Mercy? The mike's open! No one's up there yet. Will you go up there and sing with me? That stage needs a diva!"

"Mercedes is afraid to sing because bad stuff always happens after she performs." Brittany told him in a matter of fact tone, waving away Mercedes's annoyed grunt.

"I never said that!"

"But it's true!" insisted Tina. "Sam, please try and talk some sense into her. I can't stand to see my best friend victimize herself and give up on her passion. I just can't!"

Sam stared sympathetically at his love, hiding behind a curtain of her wavy black tendrils. "Are you afraid, Mercedes?" he asked softly. She only answered with a shrug, keeping her face hidden.

"Ladies, can we have a moment?" Tina and Brittany stepped back, giving the couple room. "Mercy, look at me."

The warmth hidden in the base of his voice coaxed her out of hiding. She peered through her mass of curls, wide brown eyes staring into his kind green ones. "What's going on, hmm? Why don't you want to sing? You always love singing karaoke. It's one of your favorite things to do."

"I don't want to sing in front of all these people, Sam," she replied in a frightened whisper. "I don't feel comfortable. What if someone does something stupid because of what I do onstage? What if someone is watching and plotting something? Baby, you know there are people here that still blame me for what happened to Donovan. What if they try to hurt me or the people I care about? What if they hurt you?"

"We can take care of ourselves, Mercy," he assured her, rubbing her shoulder. "I'm more concerned about you. Are you really that scared?"

"Terrified." He leaned in to press a lingering kiss to her wrinkled brow.

"Then don't sing." he whispered back, surprising the hell out of her.

"What?" Mercedes was sure he would try to coax her to go up there, like Tina and Brittany had tried to. "Really? That's it?"

"Of course. We want you to enjoy prom, not sing against your will and be miserable. If you don't want to sing with us, then it's okay. You can go when you're ready." Sam smiled at her reassuringly. "And I'm sure your girls will understand that no means stop, right?" He looked at the other girls pointedly.

Tina begrudgingly grumbled her agreement. Brittany nodded, uttering a chipper "uh huh!" with a bright smile.

"Now, I'm gonna go up there and pick a song out for you. I hope you'll listen." Sam left a kiss on her hand and dashed toward the stage. Mercedes stared at her hand, then his retreating form, in wonder.

"Oh." She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but his response really threw her. In fact, it turned her on immensely. It made her almost _want _to sing, because the choice was on her terms. But, the stage was still intimidating.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?" her man's sweet voice blasted through the speakers, quieting the room. "I'm dedicating this song like I dedicate all my songs. This one's to the little woman who makes living extra special. She was a little scared to get up here, but I didn't want her to leave tonight without hearing me sing to her. I made her a promise, and I intend to keep it."

A spotlight landed on her table, illuminating her dark corner of the floor as he spoke. The crowd hadn't noticed, but Sam spotted her immediately and smiled.

"Sweetheart, I know this year's been a lot of grief. It's been hell. And people are always gonna say things about us, but they'll never know like we know. Only we really get it."

Their eyes met and she softly smiled. The rest of the room faded into her peripheral vision. Her sole focus was on his mouth, his kind stare, and the slight clunking of his guitar against the mike stand and he tucked it against him.

"I hope that my words are louder than anyone else's. Please, find that fight again. You've come too far to lose it now. This stage is yours and always will be. I hope that my song inspires you to find your own." Sam cleared his throat and lightly strummed, testing his instrument to make sure it was in tune before he started. "And this thing between us has to be love, because there's nothing else alive that would make me sing a Monica song in public. Believe me." Sam joked. "I really love you, Angel."

As he started to play, and Mercedes had gotten the chance to hear and recognize the tune, she gently whispered "I love you too, Sam" from her far corner of the room.

**_When I first saw you, I already knew  
>There was something inside of you<br>Something I thought that I would never find  
>Angel of mine<em>**

Their eyes remained on each other, sharing every thought and feeling they couldn't find words for outside of their music. Songs have always been their bridge, their way to cross over to meet the other where they were and bring them back to where they should be. This was his call to her, his way of letting her know that it was safe where he was. Would she meet him? Would she trust his word?

**_I look at you, lookin' at me  
>Now I know why they say the best things are free<br>I'm gonna love you girl you are so fine  
>Angel of Mine<em>**

She smiled at the small change in lyrics. It had been the first R&B song she had introduced into his country and rock and roll dominated playlist. He would always groan and plug his ears, pretending to be annoyed with the tune, and she'd sing it louder than the song to mess with him. Who knew that he was actually listening?

**_How you've changed my world you'll never know  
>I'm different now, you helped me grow<br>You came into my life sent from above  
>When I lost all hope you showed me love<br>I'm checkin' for ya, girl you're right on time  
>Angel of Mine<em>**

The lyrics were more beautiful than Mercedes remembered, especially coming from his raspy, southern voice and open heart. It reminded her of when they'd gone on their first date, when she'd realized that he would be different from all of the others. Reflecting on how far they'd come from then to now, it was clear that Sam would always be a constant part of her life. Donovan couldn't stop it. Her pushing him away countless times couldn't stop it. Even crazy things like state borders, limited funds, and a new boyfriend hadn't stopped him from pursuing her. Why?

He was telling her right now, with his little guitar on that wide, glittering stage. She'd changed his life.

**_Nothing means more to me than what we share  
>No one in this whole world can ever compare<br>Last night the way you moved is still on my mind  
>Angel of Mine<em>**

**_What you mean to me you'll never know  
>Deep inside I need to show<br>You came into my life sent from above  
>When I lost all hope, you showed me love (Oh)<br>I'm checkin' for ya, girl you're right on time  
>Angel of Mine<em>**

**I never knew I could feel each moment**  
><strong>As if it were new,<strong>  
><strong>Every breath that I take, the love that we make<strong>  
><strong>I only share it with you<strong>

**_Mercy, you..._**

_That_ made her feel special. Sam had been with beautiful, strong women in the past, two of which were her closest friends. When they had gotten together, he was her first everything, and she had always wondered if their lovemaking was as satisfying as his past relationships. Sure, she knew how he felt about her. In a way, his feelings for her made Mercedes want to find new ways to please him, to leave him as full and satisfied as his declarations of love made her. Her efforts had been enough. _She _was enough to keep him happy. It was a silly thought, but it made her grin all the same.

**_When I first saw you I already knew  
>There was something inside of you<br>Something I thought that I would never find  
>Angel of Mine<em>**

_I didn't think so either. _Loving Sam was the most daring thing Mercedes had ever done. It was heartache and longing and passion laced with a sense of promise that should have frightened them both away. Sam recognized it sooner than she had. The string of terrible relationships had taught him to recognize a good one a lot sooner. Mercedes, being the relationship novice of the two, thought that it was just a passing fling, a silly dalliance that teenagers were supposed to have. _It was normal, but fleeting_, she told herself. _He'll forget about me. He'll run away. He'll leave._ Kentucky was just the excuse she was looking for.

Mercedes wasn't prepared for his return, or the intense pursuit that followed. That moment in the janitor's closet months ago forced her to see their relationship for what it was: Permanent. Out of all of the people in the world, who would have guessed Sam would be the one for her? Who would have picked her out for him, knowing who they were on the surface?

God must enjoy toying with people's preconceived ideas about destiny. It's a good thing that his focus centered on the inside, not the outside. Their hearts were perfect matches.

**_I look at you lookin' at me_**

Sam took a small pause to admire her in that very moment, glittering in her light. The glow gave her a heavenly air fitting for his serenade. She really was his angel, in so many ways. Hopefully, his song would get her to find her wings again. As much as he wanted to hold her and keep her safe in his arms, Sam knew that she needed to fly, not be coddled. _Soar, sweetheart, Soar._

**_Now I know why they say the best things are free  
>I'm checkin' for ya, girl you're right on time<br>Angel of Mine_**

The song ended to cheers and roars of applause, but Sam and Mercedes couldn't hear any of it. All they saw was each other's hand press against their chests at the same time, touching the place that held all of their shared passions. They were too far apart to speak, but Sam knew that his song had reached her. Hopefully, it would be enough to help her find her voice.

**O-O**

"That was insanely sweet!" Sugar clapped and bounced back to the table, followed by a less than enthused Santana. "You were serenaded! How romantic!"

"I'm telling ya, Trouty's game is new and improved. He's working overtime," Santana nodded, pursing her lips. "That cock suck must've been epic. I told you, that's all you guys needed."

"He loves her, you shameless whore," laughed Tina, smacking her arm. "Not everything is about sex. Right, Mercedes?" Mercedes remained quiet. "Right? You guys didn't have sex, did you?"

"You've done enough butting in my business for one night, T. I plead the fifth." Mercedes told her.

"Yeah, they're not having sex. They're saving that for tonight." Sugar clamped her hand around her mouth as soon as she realized her mistake. Tina and Santana's look of shock toward Mercedes were only bested by Mercedes's incredulous look toward Sugar.

"How in the world did you know about that?" demanded Mercedes. "I didn't tell anyone!"

"Better question is why were your girls _left out of the loop_? And why does Sugar know before us?" Santana demanded back, crossing her arms.

"I kind of found the hotel key card on the bus when you guys were sleeping. It slipped out of Sam's pocket and fell on the floor. Naturally, I...shared this new information with Joe, who told me that Sam had been asking the guys to help him get flowers and candles and things for their big night. I wasn't gonna say anything, but it just slipped out!" Sugar squeaked. "I didn't say anything before this, I swear! I gave the card back to Sam when we got off the bus and kept my mouth shut this whole time."

"Why did he have to go through all of that trouble? I thought it was just going to be between us." Mercedes wondered, more curious than angry.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out that this guy is head over heels for you, babe. I wouldn't have approved of the relationship if he didn't." Mercedes rolled her eyes at Santana's 'allowance' bit. "But you decided to date a pauper. My guess is he needed the funds to impress you the way he wants to. What did you want him to do, ask your dad for money?"

"God, no." Mercedes shuddered. "He doesn't even know about the hotel room. I'm just...surprised, that's all. I would've preferred privacy, but only the glee family knows, so I guess it's not so bad." She shrugged and gave a small smile. "It's sweet, actually."

"So, did you guys do it or not?" the girls looked to Tina, who nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, don't act like you don't want to know now! They're like a walking romantic novel. I want details!"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Secretly, Mercedes had been bursting to tell her girls all night. "We didn't really go all the way yet, but...we have been fooling around a lot. Like...fingers and mouths and stuff."

"WHAT?!" All of her girls squealed and huddled around her, shaking her for details.

"You can't just leave us like that! What happened? When? WHERE?" Santana insisted, grinning like mad. Sexual exploits were her forte. "I knew you wouldn't stop after that little quickie in the choir room. Was it good? Did he do that little wiggle-curl combo when he fingered you? Because I taught him that and it used to make me cum so-"

"_Anyway,"_ Tina threw Santana a dirty look. "Was he gentle? Did you guys go slow?"

"Did he whisper sweet nothings in your ear?" swooned Sugar, starry eyed at the romantic thought.

"It was perfect, guys. He was everything I needed. It was crazy and wild and passionate...and kinda kinky!" Mercedes laughed, covering her cheeks. "Oh goodness, who am I? I've never done some of the things we did. Am I a closet freak?"

"No, honey. You're a wonderful, loving, complex human being filled with thoughts and emotions..." Tina began.

"Who's getting her slit diddled on a regular basis!" Santana ended, moving her shoulder to avoid Tina's swinging fist.

"So, are you gonna sing back to him? You should serenade him back!"

"I don't know, Sugar. I want to, but..." Mercedes couldn't find the words to finish. What was stopping her? "I just don't know."

"Well, I think you should. If I had a voice like yours with a guy like that, I'd totally sing to him." Sugar nodded.

"Well, who said you need a voice like mine? You have a great guy who would love to hear how you feel about him. Why don't you go up there?" Mercedes suggested. "Better yet, why don't you all go up there and sing instead of trying to convince me?"

Sugar took her challenge and strut her way to the stage, with Santana and Tina following close behind her. The crafty heiress already had a song idea in mind...

**O-O**

Sugar pulled Erin into her act, convincing her that their song would impress Artie as well. The redhead was the only person she knew that could match her energy and wouldn't be afraid to act a fool onstage. Plus, since neither of them could sing a note on-key, Sugar knew that the Salt-n-Pepa number would be the perfect alternative to a ballad.

As soon as Sugar started the first verse of _Shoop_ and Erin found a fitted cap to throw on her head, Artie screamed to the high heavens. And when his date started to swing and pop her booty near the edge of the stage, he nearly convulsed in his chair.

"Someone call my momma! I found the one! I found her!" he screamed, pumping his fist when Erin started the next verse. She smiled and threw in all the swag he'd taught her, bobbing her head and swaying her hips like a gangsta pro. Artie surprised both girls by coming in for the male verse, wheeling himself onstage to join the party. Erin threw her fitted cap on his head, hugging his shoulders and kissing his cheek as he spit his lyrics. Sugar pulled a reluctant Joe to the stage, sharing the mike with him on the hook. He was the more reserved of the group, but Sugar's bubbly nature always seemed to bring out the party animal in him. Soon, he slid on his shades and worked the crowd with them. At the end of the tune, they crossed their arms and posed back to back, nodding to the cheering crowd.

Santana followed behind them with a party mix version of Jennifer Lopez's _Waiting for Tonight, _performing the song with a saucy salsa that would make the famous singer green with envy. During the dance break, Santana pulled her girlfriend, following her lead as they swayed and dipped across the sparkling stage. Finn plucked a rose from the bouquet they had prepared for the prom queen and tossed it to the couple. The crowd roared when Santana caught it between her teeth.

**_Waiting for tonight (oh)_**

**_When you would be here in my arms_**

**_Waiting for tonight (oh oh)_**

**_I've dreamed of this love for so long_**

**_Waiting for tonight..._**

On the last line, Brittany dipped her, and Santana broke the stem of her flower and tucked the red bud behind her girlfriend's ear. The blonde leaned down to kiss her nose, and then whispered something in her girlfriend's ear that made Santana _extremely_happy.

Rachel and Finn took the stage without a song choice. They debated back and forth between genres (musicals vs. rock) and tempo (bouncy and bubbly vs. slow and brooding) until an annoyed Kurt had to step in and suggest an old favorite, Haddaway's_What is Love._ It wasn't romantic by any means, but the couple seemed less than amorous at the moment, so Kurt figured it would be the safest and most effective choice. And, sure enough, the crowd pleaser won over the prom crowd. Their harmonies were flawless and smooth, enlivening the tune with just the right touch of soaring inspiration. Everyone joined in, rocking out and head banging in every corner of the dance floor. Even some of the faculty started grooving, including Sue and Principal Figgins, who performed an impressive robot during the chorus.

Kurt jumped on right after them and whispered his choice to the DJ. When the beat to Vanilla Ice's hit single started, the crowd went crazy. Blaine was more than impressed with his boyfriend's sweet moves across the stage (his running man was _killer) _and loved seeing this wilder, primal side of him. The way his little ass bounced when he moved didn't hurt, either.

At the end of his performance, Blaine met Kurt near the steps, greeting him with hug and an up close view of the new iTunes purchase on his phone.

"I'm gonna need a private show later." He whispered, kissing Kurt's damp cheek.

Tina shocked everyone (and amused some ignorant people in the crowd) with a country choice, Faith Hill's _This Kiss_. Sam and Mike heard some of the bolder football players hiss and boo her, and they briefly shared a look and nod before charging toward them.

"You gotta problem with country, dipshit?" Sam challenged, twisting one's collar.

"That's my girl up there. She's singing to me. Don't ruin it, or I'll ruin your face," Mike spat. The second jock in front of him merely smirked and stepped back, hocking a wad of spit near Mike's dress shoes.

"I'd be less sensitive if I were you, Jap. Nobody's paying any attention to your girl or his ugly ass monkey date, either. Step the fuck back." The glee boys slammed the two idiots heads together, sending them crashing to the ground.

"It's Mercedes, you jackass!" Sam yelled.

"And I'm Chinese. If you ever opened a book, you'd learn a little something about other countries." Mike spat, kicking both of their sides. "Me hate you long time, douche bag."

Since the majority of the crowd appreciated a good country tune, and since the music and cheering was so overpowering, most of the little brawl went unnoticed. Only Sue watched from her little corner near the door, hearing everything that happened with the special amplified earpiece she'd independently purchased from Radio Shack.

When the two students' heads cracked together, she barely budged, but her responsibilities as an educator obligated her to walk over and check on them. As terrible as they were, they had to still leave their prom _alive._

"Wake up, Sonny and Cher. Rise and shine." Sue had saved her emergency bucket of ice cold water for such an occasion. She quickly dumped it all over them, startling them back to life.

"Coach Sylvester, did you see what they did?" One of the jocks asked. "They're supposed to be kicked out. Don't the rules say that if there is any violence, then you get kicked out, no questions asked?"

"Well, the way I see it, your verbal attack was just as below the belt and hard-hitting as their double head slam. I'd call this one even." Sue nodded, crossing her arms. "Next tongue slip and I'll be the one kicking your asses out personally, _capisce_? " The boys groaned from their headaches. "I'll take that as a yes."

**_It's the way you love me_**

**_It's a feeling like this_**

**_It's centrifugal motion_**

**_It's perpetual bliss_**

**_It's that pivotal moment_**

**_It's (uh) subliminal_**

**_This kiss, this kiss (It's criminal)_**

**_This kiss, this kiss_**

Mike shook off his anger and watched the last of his girlfriend's performance. When she smiled at him and blew him a kiss, he knew that she deserved the real thing and decided to oblige. He jumped onstage and picked her up, kissing her lips as he carried her off to a more private corner. Sam spotted his girl in the cheering crowd and encircled her waist, kissing her cheek from behind her.

"Oh! You scared me!" she smiled, pulling his arms tighter around her. "Where were you?"

"Just off handling some things," He answered vaguely. He was still too riled up to smile. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much." She nodded, humming happily. "When we get a house, we should own a karaoke machine. Then we could sing to each other anytime we wanted."

The thought of _their _house pulled the grin out of him. "No way. Our neighbors would complain about us being too loud," he told her. "I want them to complain about our volume for more...pleasurable reasons."

"Well, then maybe we should buy a house where we're by ourselves. Then, no one can hear us." She whispered. He pulled her closer and pressed a smacking kiss to her cheek, rocking from side to side with the filler music.

"I've got to go, but I'll be right back. I have one more performance in store for you, okay?"

"Okay." She leaned into his departing kiss, watching him disappear with the rest of the boys behind the curtain. Oddly enough, Sam grabbed Brittany's hand and pulled her with him.

"What are they up to?"

"That was my exact question." Santana included, stepping beside her. "And why do they need Brittany?"

"Hey guys, have you seen Artie? I went to the bathroom and now I can't find him anywhere." Erin asked, smoothing down the front of her dress.

Mercedes smiled at the obvious reapplication of her lipstick. "Well, welcome back to the real world, Rin. How's Artieland treating you?" she teased. "I'm assuming it's treating you well, since I haven't seen you all night."

Erin's colored cheeks gave her intimate secrets away. "I've been spending time with my date, that's all," She said quietly. "Do you know where he went?"

"He left with the rest of our dates." Kurt told her, walking toward them with Tina, Rachel, and Quinn behind him. Sugar came shortly after, twirling her wavy hair around her finger.

"What's going on?"

"Finn and the boys are planning a romantic serenade for us to declare their undying love." Rachel said happily. "Isn't it so Shakespearean? Who said chivalry is dead?"

"I wonder what song they're going to sing?" Quinn wondered aloud. "Knowing Puck, it's going to be sexual. I can feel it in my bones."

"Well, some of our songs were kind of suggestive. That is, those of us that _sang._" Tina playfully poked Mercedes's side. "But, I doubt that they're going to try to top it. It's probably something soft and romantic."

"Yeah, I know Joe. He's not really into those sexual kind of songs. It's not in him to—" The sudden beat drop ended Sugar's thoughts. Though the group couldn't readily place the tune, the robotic voice and pulsing bass gave them a sudden fever that they couldn't explain.

"This is going to sound really ridiculous, but does anyone else feel a little warm?" Sugar asked, fanning her forehead.

Kurt loosened his tie and undid the top button of his collar. "It has gotten strangely hot." He rubbed his sweaty palms against his pants. "Feverishly hot."

"And does anyone else feel a bit...wet?" Quinn asked, rubbing her thighs together. "Like you just want to..."

"Jump someone's bones?" Rachel answered, wide eyed from the sudden pulsing between her legs. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. Is it the music?"

"What the hell kind of music has this effect on people?" asked Erin, dabbing the top of her breasts with a napkin. "It's sinful!"

"Oh god..." Santana and Mercedes recognized the tune at the same time.

"Guys, we're not ready." Mercedes hurriedly told them. "No panties are safe."

"What is it? What do you mean?" asked Rachel.

"Is it hypnosis?" asked Tina, lifting her hair to fan her neck. She took an ice cube out of Kurt's drink and rubbed it against her exposed chest. "Oh, man! What the hell is this?!"

"It's worse than hypnosis." Santana said, gulping.

The boys and Brittany appeared onstage, wearing nothing but dress shirts and tuxedo pants. Brittany had changed into a more feminine variation of the tuxedo, with slacks that were better fitted around her thighs and ass and a white blouse with loose sleeves that was three sizes too small around her strapless bra clad breasts. The gentlemen had their top three buttons loose, exposing their chests. For choir boys, they all had impressive physiques hidden under their dress tops.

"Ladies and Kurt...it's Ginuwine."

As the bright stage and colorful dance floor dimmed and cloaked itself in red and dark purple lighting, Joe stepped forward on the first verse, covering his eyes with his hands as he pretended to search the crowd.

**_I'm just a bachelor_**

**_Looking for a partner_**

Sugar screamed at the top of her lungs, as did the rest of the women in the crowd, when he ripped the rest of his shirt open and jumped down to sit on the edge of the stage. He pointed his girl out of the crowd and beckoned her over with a finger. Sugar numbly stepped forward, trembling in excitement. She nearly collapsed when he pulled her by the waist and sat her atop his lap in one swift motion.

**_Someone who knows how to ride_**

He rolled her body against his crotch, smiling when she moaned and grabbed the edge of the stage for support.

**_Without even falling off_**

Artie slid forward next, taking his glasses off and biting the ear of his frame with a sexy snarl.

**_Gotta be compatible_**

He pointed out Erin from the crowd. Her breaths grew shorter.

**_Sex me to my limits_**

Artie threw his glasses to her, and she caught them while screaming "I love you, Artie!" on the top of her lungs.

**_Girl, when I break you off_**

**_I promise that you won't wanna get off_**

He stretched out his hand to Erin and helped her back onstage, seating her on her lap and kissing her neck near the end of his verse. She bit her lip from the tortuous pleasure as he wheeled them away. Finn, Sam, and Puck took center stage wearing dark shades, rolling their exposed abs and powerful hips in the famous "Windy City" move. Rachel, Quinn and Mercedes cheered the loudest in the noisy crowd.

**_If your horny, Let's do it  
>Ride it, My Pony<br>My saddle's waiting  
>Come and jump on itIf your horny, Let's do it<br>Ride it, My Pony  
>My saddle's waiting<br>Come and jump on it_**

Puck jumped out of the trio's lineup, right in front of a shocked Quinn. He lifted his shades and winked at her, crouching with a sexy smirk to her level. Quinn's eyelids fluttered shut when he ran his hands over her cheek and down her exposed neck.

**_Sitting here flossing  
>Peeping your steelo<br>Just once if I have the chance_**

Puck hissed his teeth and pulled Quinn to him, running his fingers over her cleavage and down her stomach, all the way to her navel and below.

**_The things I would do to you_**

Sam jumped down in front of Mercedes, predatorily circling her form. She smiled when he stopped behind her and hugged her waist, swaying with her to the beat as he rubbed his package discreetly against her bottom.

**_You and your body_**

A small whine left her throat when his broad hands spread across her breasts, lightly squeezing her sensitive nipples between his fingers. One hand moved down her stomach and gave the abundance there a light squeeze as well.

**_Every single portion_**

Mercedes jumped and gasped when he roughly grabbed her ass, then dropped her head forward as he sang the words against the base of her neck. Mike came down to join him, twirling Tina around before mimicking Sam's stance behind his own girlfriend. They sang the next verse in perfect harmony, with Mike taking the active lead. Mike ran his lips down her spine, kissing the dip of Tina's back as she stood at attention.

**_Send ch-ch-chills up and down your spine_**

Tina felt the snap under her dress and muffled her whine with her hand. Mike kissed up her back and leaned his chin on her shoulder. His girlfriend's wide eyes turned to meet his mischievous ones.

**_Juices flowing down your vine_**

Mike held her ripped thong between their faces, smelling the delicate fabric with relish and quickly licking the dampened crotch. Tina watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and her parted lips leaned forward and followed it as he walked away from her.

**_If your horny, Let's do it  
>Ride it, My Pony<br>My saddle's waiting  
>Come and jump on it<em>**

By now, the entire crowd was getting their freak on, gyrating and pressing themselves against each other as they fell under the music's sexual spell. Sue and Principal Figgins watched on, one in disgust and the other in utter fear.

"Sue, how in the name of hot karanji am I supposed to do about this? Before I know it, everyone's going to be pregnant in September and their parents are going to demand an explanation from me. I mean, look at them!" Figgins dabbed his forehead with a wad of napkins when he spotted a pair of boxers and pink panties fly out of the crowded dance floor. "I need to stop this!"

"Calm your tits, Bollywood. If anyone gets pregnant in this crap town, believe me, it's not your fault." Sue told him. "Teen pregnancies in Lima are about as shocking as Michael Jackson's third rhinoplasty. Those parents want something to blame? Blame the twenty miles of wasteland that stands between their permit-less kids and the nearest city, with nothing but a bowling alley in between and a broken down theatre that only shows reruns of _Gorillas in the Mist_."

**_If your horny, Let's do it  
>Ride it, My Pony<br>My saddle's waiting  
>Come and jump on it<em>**

Finn picked Rachel up and wrapped her legs around his waist, thrusting into her on the beat as she bounced against him. Blaine and Brittany took off their clip on ties and wrapped each end around their fists. With a come hither motion, their dates were beckoned forward, and the ties were lassoed around their necks to pull them closer. Santana tried to keep her composure and mask her excitement, but Kurt had given up the struggle since the beginning of the song. He practically ran to his man.

**_If we're gonna get nasty, Baby  
>First we'll show &amp; tell<br>Till I reach your ponytail_**

Everyone took notice of Brittany, who slowly slid into a split in front of her girlfriend and brought herself back up solely with the support of the tie held around Santana's neck. As she rose, she let go to tangle her fingers in her girlfriend's hair, rubbing her scalp and mussing her neat 'do into wild, bedroom waves. Her hips turned, pressing her pussy right against Santana's painted mouth. The Latina frowned at the unusual and noticeable budge against her lips.

"Are you wearing a-?" Santana looked up at her with curious, excited eyes. Brittany's cute giggle confirmed her suspicions. "Oh, you are _so _getting fucked tonight, Britt. You are _so_ getting fucked."

Meanwhile, Blaine gritted his teeth and smashed his boyfriend's lips against his crotch. Kurt took some initiative and unzipped Blaine's trousers with his teeth, then cried out when his long, firm hardness snaked its way through.

**_Lurk all over and through you baby  
>Until I reach your stream<em>**

Blaine thrust to the beat, pushing Kurt's face deeper into his crotch. The near blackout effect on the stage and dance floor gave him courage.

**_You'll be on my jockey team_**

And when Blaine's silk boxers slowly rolled against his lips, Kurt lost all inhibitions.

"YES! YES IN THE MORNING! YES IN THE AFTERNOON! YES AT MIDNIGHT!" His pale hands slapped the stage and waved around like he'd caught the spirit in an AME church. "YES, BLAINE!"

The music played the rest of the way. All of the couples were too caught up in each other. The air reeked of sweat and pheromones, charged with a sexual air from the cramped confines of bodies pressed together. When the lights slowly came back up, the crowd demanded more sexy music and low lighting. Brittany quickly took the microphone.

"Do you guys want more?" Everyone erupted in applause and whistles, chanting 'More! More! More!' as loud as they could. "No problem! It's an hour before midnight, so I officially declare this prom...RATED M!" Everyone clapped when the floor darkened once more. "But before we start, I just want to remind you all that the voting for prom king and queen closes in ten minutes, so make sure to get your votes in! Also, if anyone wants to get another song in, karaoke closes in fifteen! You want the stage? It's now or never!"

**O-O**

The DJ threw on R-Kelly's _Seems Like You're Ready _to keep the sensual mood going. The slow jam cooled the fiery inferno of the New Direction's performance to a leisurely smolder, with slow swaying of limbs and quiet lingering kisses between lovers in the darkness.

"Sam, we should go vote for Quinn," Mercedes whispered behind her, where Sam rested his lips on her neck. He answered her with small kisses across her left shoulder. "Sam...baby, we have to move from here eventually."

"Why?" he quietly asked, holding her tighter and rubbing her stomach. He kissed that sensitive spot near her clavicle. "I like it here."

She smiled, enjoying his warmth and the strength of his arms around her. She slid her fingers between his and continued to sway with him. "We have to go and vote for prom king and queen. You're on the ballot, too."

"So are you," he whispered, nuzzling her ear. "Man, you're so soft." She moaned when he pushed her chin up and ran his lips over her cheek. "You're soft all over."

"Sam, we only have a couple of minutes to vote. We can kiss the rest of the night, I promise." she vowed, turning her face to kiss his mouth. "C'mon, Quinn really wants this. We should support her."

"I don't care. I've voted already. You've won. No more voting necessary," he insisted, wrapping his arms over hers and covering her with his body. "You're my queen."

"You've got to stop saying things like that, Sammy." Mercedes smiled, tucking herself into his embrace. He smelled like spicy aftershave, a hint of musk, and a sweetness that was all his own. It was everything that made her think of masculinity. "That's what started that little moment in the library, remember?"

"And the bathroom." He grinned, twirling her around to face him. She rested a hand against his chest and sighed.

"We should talk about that. I've been thinking about it a lot."

"Oh? Why?"

"The whole unprotected part," she clarified, looking up at him. His lips pursed. "Sam, you know that we decided never to do that again. After that time in the closet, we agreed that condoms would always be a must."

"I remember." he said. "It's part of the reason why I stopped you. I just thought that you weren't thinking clearly or something. I knew one of us had to be level headed. You've been the voice of reason plenty of times for me. Remember that time we went hiking?"

The memory made her laugh. "And I _still_ refuse to have sex anywhere near bugs and dirt, so you can just cross that one off your little mental list."

"Aww, you're no fun." He pouted. "But seriously, what made you suddenly decide that you wanted to do it without one?"

"Well, I had a really great talk with Bee during my session, and it made me realize how much I blamed myself for what almost happened to you."

"Why in the world would you ever blame yourself for that?" he asked softly. "You weren't the one holding the gun to my head."

"Yeah, but I pushed you away that day. I started a senseless fight with you and got involved with someone that I shouldn't have." Sam started to speak, ready to correct her. "And I know what you're going to say. I know that what happened after wasn't my fault. I've accepted that." He nodded with her. "But, I'm always the one to push you away. I'm always the one to deny my feelings for you. I didn't want to refuse you anymore. I wanted you to know that I always want you with me."

"But, why without a condom?" he asked, still clearly puzzled.

Mercedes took his hand and deeply sighed, sliding her fingers between his and resting their hands on his chest as they swayed. "About a month and a half after we had sex in the janitor's closet, I realized that my period never came."

Sam froze and looked at her. "What?"

"I thought it was just the stress, at first." She shrugged. "But, I decided to take a test just in case."

"And...what did it say?" The hand around her waist unconsciously drifted to her stomach, smoothing over the bump of flesh that might hold his future.

She hugged his arm tighter around her. "It was negative, of course. Don't worry."

Sam released a breath and felt his heart beat again. "Oh."

The tone of his response surprised both of them.

"Are you disappointed?" Mercedes asked him, searching his eyes.

"I want to say no, but...I will admit that I have thought about it. Every time we make love, even when we're careful, it's always in the back of my mind that this might be the day when our protection doesn't work. I know that there's still a chance," he answered. "If we ever got pregnant...it wouldn't be the end of the world, would it? I don't want to have children with anybody else."

"Really?" Sam nodded.

"I only want you." He said simply. "If I have a kid, I want you to be its mother."

A sobering moment passed between them.

"I only want you, too." she whispered, smiling at him. They shared a brief kiss. "I don't want kids right now, but I feel the same way."

"So, why did you want to have unprotected sex?" he asked her.

Mercedes searched her brain for the right words. "I wanted that chance that I _might _get pregnant." She explained. "I didn't plan it to trap you. I wasn't even consciously thinking about it at the time. But, when I reflect on it, I realize that I wouldn't have minded it if it had happened on its own. If it was a spur of the moment thing, and a baby just came of it, then I could say that fate allowed it to happen."

"But Mercedes, a baby changes everything," He said softly. "A baby would've meant that we'd have to change our life plans. You wouldn't be able to go to USC this fall and..."

"I know. That's my point," she said. "That's part of my point."

"You don't want to go to USC?" he asked in surprise, more shocked by this confession than the last one. "That's your dream, sweetheart."

"You're my dream too, Sam." she said desperately. "You went to Kentucky and I pushed you away. You came back and I pretended that you didn't mean anything to me. Then, when I finally have you..." she pressed her forehead against his chest, hiding her tears. "When I have you, you almost get shot in front of me. I was so close to watching you die."

Sam gathered as much of her in his arms as possible, kissing her forehead with an intense need. "I am right here and I am not going anywhere, okay? We don't need to have a baby together for you to keep me."

"I know, I just..." she sniffled. "I thought that, if something happened again, if he came back for us...if you died?" Her watery eyes met his. "I would always have a part of you with me."

"Oh, Mercy." He leaned his forehead against hers, shaking it back and forth. "My darling Mercy-mine."

Mercedes nodded. "I know that it was a stupid decision now." she confessed, dabbing her eyes. "I know that I have you. I just...thought that you should know. Please know how much I love you."

"I know." He nodded, kissing her pert little nose. "I know. I feel it. I love you just as much."

"I want to invest in this." Mercedes told him. "I want to fall asleep as an _I _and wake up every morning as an _us_."

"What?" he chuckled. "Where is that from?"

"I'll explain later." She laughed back. "This conversation got heavy really quickly."

"I know. We need to stop doing this in public." agreed Sam. "Didn't this start out sexy?"

The DJ picked that very moment to blast _I Wanna Sex You Up _through the speakers. The lovers nearly died of laughter.

"C'mon gorgeous, we have some voting to do," Sam said as his laughter died down, wiping the happy tears from the corners of his eyes. "I heard that Evans guy is a shoo-in."

She gently pulled him back before he could lead her away. "No, not yet. I have to do something first," she replied. He gave her a questioning look as she grinned. "I heard that Karaoke closes in a couple of minutes."

Sam grinned back in understanding and bowed, kissing her hand. "Well then, who am I to stop you? Go on. That mike has been waiting for you all night."

**O-O**

After Mercedes submitted her song request, (much to everyone's excitement), she and Sam went straight to the ballot boxes, standing side by side in the double line. Two slim brunettes stood in front, oblivious to the ears around them as they voiced their opinions.

"Ugh, I can't believe that Mercedes chick is a nominee. How dare she use the victim card to get votes? Nobody even knew about her before the whole rape thing. I bet she's just using all of this to get popular so her senior year won't look so pathetic." The brunette in red scoffed, drawing devil's horns over the M in Mercedes name on the ballot. "It's her fault we lost this season. Donovan had to be pulled because of her and those other losers' accusations. She's such a fame whore."

"Well, look who she's dating," said the brunette in yellow, twirling her hair and scoffing in distaste at every gown that walked by. "Sam Evans is like the man whore of McKinley. Next to Puck, I bet he's fucked half of Ohio by now. God knows they belong together. Maybe she'll catch one of his STDs and they'll both die of chronic whoredom."

"Gosh, how Romeo and Juliet of you, Alyssa!" The girl in red exclaimed, smiling as she slid her vote in the box.

"Well, you know me. Always the romantic." The two girls shared a mean hearted snicker. "Or maybe he'll live so I can toss a twenty his way and fuck him to see what all the fuss is about. I bet he's not even that big."

"I don't know, Lissy. You know what they say. Big hands, big feet..."

"Little brain?" Her friend slapped her shoulder. "What? Bev, you know I'm right. Not a whole lot going on up there. I heard he's in special Ed."

"Hmmm...Special Ed stripper and town fame whore. Sounds like a match made in heaven." Beverly cackled, flipping her hair. Alyssa tapped her shoulder, pointing behind her. "What?"

Their topics of conversation were standing behind them, and from the looks on their faces, Sam and Mercedes had heard every bit of their dialogue.

"Oh, it's just them." Beverly dismissed their presence with her hand. "I could care less if they heard me. What's she gonna do, hit me again? I just might follow her example and hire a lawyer. Maybe I could become a big star, too."

Mercedes almost lunged for her with a fist, but Sam held her around the waist.

"It's not worth it, baby. They aren't worth it. I want to hit them too, but it won't change anything." He calmly whispered in her ear.

"It would change their faces," she growled, bouncing in her heels. "You can't hit her, but I can. Let me go, Sam." The girl's rolling eyes made her spring again. Beverly started to laugh.

"What, you wanna go? Don't let this beauty fool you, I will take you down," Beverly promised, tossing her overpriced chandelier earrings to Alyssa. Her friend stepped back into the growing crowd. "Last time by the lockers was just a fluke. Try me again, bitch."

Puck and the boys caught the commotion and quickly rallied around the couple.

"What the hell is going on here? Is this _human toilet_ giving you grief, baby doll?" Puck asked, shielding Mercedes with his body.

Beverly almost threw another insult, but the rest of the boys stepped forward, looking every bit like Mercedes's personal security guards. They all slid on their shades in unison and stood strong, crossing their arms.

Beverly, realizing she was outnumbered, backed down and fell quiet.

"You won't always have your little henchmen around, fame whore. We all know what you are. Don't be pissed because I called you and your boyfriend out on your shit," she spat.

Mercedes reached for Joe's wrist, turning over his sleeve. "Joe? Am I reading that time right?"

"To the very second, Ms. Jones," Joe said with a nod, falling into character.

"That means I've already wasted five whole minutes on your worthless, pathetic excuse of a life. You are literally an insignificant speck in the overall fabric of my existence. The fact that I'm even acknowledging you right now is a blessing, because you will never encounter someone as fiercely amazing as me, not as long as you live. You're welcome." Mercedes pushed by her boys, grabbed one of the ballots from Beverly's hands, and cast her vote calmly.

"What?" Beverly scratched her head, confused by all the large words. "So...we're not fighting?"

Alyssa reached out for get friend's arm, pulling her away from the embarrassing scene. "Let's go, Bev. It's done." The crowd dispersed with them, bringing an end to the commotion.

"Call us if you need us again, Cedes," said Artie. "Let's go boys!"

The rest of the crew followed behind him, returning to the festivities. Sam stayed with his date, wearing the proudest grin as he hugged her from behind.

"That was so boss and classy." She smiled when he kissed her cheek. "And sexy. Very, very sexy."

"No one gets to say those things about us. They have no idea what we've been through. I hate when people make assumptions," she said, reaching back to stroke his cheek. "I am not a fame whore, Sam."

"Of course not, I know that. You're talented, but you're not vain. And you don't look for attention. Attention just...comes to you, whether you want it to or not." he said, looking down at her.

Her head bowed. "I'm not a whore at all," she said quietly, ruffling her gown to cover up her exposed chest. "I'm not."

"No. No you aren't, sweetheart." Sam quietly assured her, hugging her waist even tighter. "You're special and lovely and valuable, worth more than all the money in the world."

She looked up at him, and then twirled in his arms, returning his hug.

"So are you," she said, eyes bright and sad with knowing.

"I know that." he replied. Yet, his tone suggested that Beverly and Alyssa's words had struck a nerve.

"Hey..." She nudged his chin until he looked at her. "You're special, too. You're lovely. You _are _valuable. You're worth more than all the money in the world. I don't care what you used to do, or how much people said you were worth because of your body. It's not true." Mercedes smiled at him, lovingly stroking his lips. "You are fearfully and wonderfully made, my love. Don't let anyone tell you you're stupid or only good enough to have sex with. I love you for so much more than that. Don't forget."

The words 'it was no big deal' were on the tip of his tongue, but Sam was tired of lying.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that." Sam said instead. "It really hurt to hear that mess again."

"I know." Mercedes hugged him tighter, kissing his cheek as she pulled away. "That's why I'm here. I'll remind you and you'll remind me, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Toast to it?" He spotted a couple of plastic flutes filled with sparkling cider nearby and handed her one.

Mercedes giggled when he wrapped his arm around hers, like couples did at weddings. "Cheers, Mr. Evans. Girlfriend and boyfriend, husband and wife or whatever, let's always stay friends."

"Always," he chimed in, taking a sip with her. After a few more sips, their eyes combed the busy, partying crowd for their friends. Sam pointed out Santana's waving hand from the back corner of the room.

"C'mon, Trouty! They're counting the ballots soon. All the nominees have to be near the stage!"

Sam escorted his lady to the front of the stage, near an anxious Quinn wringing her hands and silently praying.

"Sis, relax," Mercedes calmed her with a motherly stroking of her back. "You're prom queen and you know it."

"I just really want this." Quinn said, fanning her heated face with her hand. "I've never wanted something so much before. Aren't you nervous?"

The odds were slim to none that a crowd like McKinley would vote for someone like her, especially after that little fiasco near the ballot boxes, but Mercedes decided to spare her soul sister the details.

"Whatever happens will happen." she said with a smile. "I've learned to let the little concerns go. Quinn, you're a shoo-in. Stop worrying."

Quinn touched her sister's hand. "Thanks,babe." She stepped back and looked at her, as if admiring her for the first time. "You know, you'd be a great prom queen, too."

"Aww, you say that," laughed Mercedes. Just then, a petite, brown-skinned girl with large black framed glasses approached them and tapped Mercedes on the shoulder.

"Excuse me?" her small voice croaked. "I just wanted you to know that not everyone feels the same way Beverly and Alyssa feels. I voted for you. It'd be great to see a queen that looks like me."

"Wow. Thank you," Mercedes answered, shocked and humbled. "Thank you so much."

The girls watched her walk away, and Quinn smiled and took mental note of the sense of hope in her eyes.

"Mercedes! I'm going to call you up while we count the ballots. You ready to sing?" Brittany harshly whispered, talking away from the microphone. When she nodded, Brittany waved at the DJ to turn down the music.

"Alright, Alright! Prom's been awesome, right?" The crowd cheered their agreement. "I'm so glad you guys had such a good time. Let's remember to thank Sugar Motta and Mr. Motta for all of their financial support." They all clapped and cheered when the spotlight landed on brunette, who was in a rather compromising position on Joe's lap in the corner of the room. The stunned couple stiffly waved, and Joe quickly rubbed off the traces of lipstick on his lips with a swipe of his hand.

"Also, I'd like to thank Mr. Schue, Principal Figgins, and the members of Glee for their musical contributions and support. Let's give them a hand!" The crowd cheered and clapped, louder than before. "And let's give a big hey-ho to you guys, the most awesome party crowd in all of Ohio. Heeeyyy!"

"Hooooo!" The crowd shouted back, laughing and clapping.

"Now, you guys are in for a real treat. While we're counting the ballots for prom king and queen..." Brittany was interrupted by applause and stomping of feet. "We have one last karaoke song dedication. Show her some love as she takes the stage."

Mercedes took the stage in the midst of the welcoming applause, escorted by Mike and Puck. Her clammy hands took the microphone stand, and as she took in the shadows of faces in the crowd, her stomach painfully knotted and twisted. When the applause died down to silence, she opened her mouth to speak, but a garbled croak left her throat instead.

"C'mon! SING SOMETHING!"

"HEY, SHUT UP ASSHOLE!" Puck yelled to the random audience. "Don't mind them, gorgeous. We'll handle them. Sing on your time." The boys, standing offstage, nodded in agreement.

Mercedes whispered a thank you as Puck stepped away. She stood alone in the spotlight. "Umm...Hi." she gulped and licked her lips before remembering that she wore lipstick. Thank goodness her color wasn't bright enough to stain her teeth. "This song is for the one person that always inspires me to dream big. He's stuck by me through a lot, and I want him to know how much it means to me." She spotted Sam as he stepped forward, right in her line of view. Finding him in the crowd boosted her confidence. "Sometimes, when I'm with you, I don't know how to tell you exactly how I feel. Thank goodness that Whitney found the words for me." She smiled. "Here goes."

Her girls and a more composed Kurt stood behind her in the shadows, taking cordless microphones of their own to offer supporting vocals. The lights dimmed yet again, this time in a cool wash of blue and lavender. When the Spanish guitar began to play, Mercedes took a breath and closed her eyes to sing.

**_The day you held me in your arms  
>I still smell the scent of you<em>**

**_on my dress  
>Unbelievable<br>You were so_**

**_Masculine  
>The way I felt your chest<em>**

**_up next to mine  
>Felt you in my heart<br>Now I breathe_**

**_love_**

A paler blue light washed over her background singers as they joined in the chorus.

**_You are so amazing  
>Unbelievable, baby<br>It's you that makes me smile  
>When everything is crazy<br>You're the one I'm loving  
>No other man can faze me'cause<em>**

**_you're in my heart  
>I'm in your heart<br>Every minute_**

**_Every hour_**

**_You are so amazing  
>Unbelievable, baby<br>It's you that makes me smile  
>When everything is crazy<br>You're the one I'm loving  
>No other man can faze me'cause<em>**

**_you're in my heart  
>I'm in your heart<br>Every minute_**

**_Every hour_**

**Yes (M: I say yes, boy)**  
><strong>Yes (M: Ooh, yes)<strong>  
><strong>Yes (M: Say yeah,yes)<strong>  
><strong>Yes, yeah, yeah, yes...<strong>

Her nervousness waned, and a small roar of applause and whistles made Mercedes get into her music. When she opened her eyes, Sam was still standing there, clapping the loudest and calling her name.

"Sing it, Mercy!" he cried. "Sing it, baby!" So, she did, with all of her might.

**_The time you looked_**

**_into my eyes_**

**_I felt like falling in love, baby  
>And I<em>**

**_was mesmerized  
>Cause it's something that you do<br>That makes_**

**_me feel this way  
>And I can't explain<br>You're my joy, my peace  
>My happiness<em>**

**_and you, you, you! oh oh!_**

Mercedes pulled that riff from her belly, and the crowd felt every bit of her heart in the notes. Sam rubbed the goose bumps on his arms and shook from the power of her voice. He'd heard her sing dozens of times, and every performance always left him stunned. And the fact that this song was for him, that she was singing just for him, made it even better.

Each background singer stepped forward and spotted their partners in the crowd, singing directly to them.

**_You're the best love I ever knew  
>Can't nobody do me like you do<br>Put it down on my last dime  
>No one else worth none of my time<br>Everything 'bout you I love  
>You were sent from the skies above<br>You came here to rescue me_**

**_M: Well, now I'm free, yeah yeah_**

**_You're the best love I ever knew  
>Can't nobody do me like you do<br>You're the down on my last dime  
>No one else worth none of my time<br>Everything 'bout you I love  
>You were sent from the sky's above<br>You came here to rescue me_**

**_M: Well, now I'm free! OHHHHHH!_**

The music stopped as she held the last note, solid and strong and ringing in the silent room. Her entire body quaked. She bent over and held her belly, pushing and stretching her vocal cords as far as they could reach. When she passed the sixteen bar mark, the crowd cried her name, chanting for more. They _begged _her for more of her voice. The DJ had the presence of mind to turn the track off and let her finish acapella, and when her cry of freedom ended, she had to stop and gasp for breath.

"Go get it, Mercy," Sam whispered. Mercedes nodded like she'd heard him.

"C'mon, McKinley," she crooned, stretching her hands and beckoning her audience. "Pull the one you love close and sing with me."

Everyone grabbed their dates and slow danced, singing the lyrics face to face. Her glee crew took her instructions as well, bringing their dates on stage with them. Sam jumped up and hugged her from behind, leaning his chin against her temple as they rocked together. Mercedes turned her face with mike in hand, singing right against his lips. Some on the dance floor began to clap the beat.

**_You are so amazing  
>Unbelievable, baby<br>It's you that makes me smile  
>When everything is crazy<br>You're the one I'm loving  
>No other man can faze me'cause<em>**

**_you're in my heart  
>I'm in your heart<br>Every minute_**

**_Every hour_**

**_You are so amazing  
>Unbelievable, baby<br>It's you that makes me smile  
>When everything is crazy<br>You're the one I'm loving  
>No other man can faze me'cause<em>**

**_you're in my heart  
>I'm in your heart<br>Every minute_**

**_Every hour_**

Mercedes ended the song with a run of dark, soulful_ yes's_ that really showed off her range. Everyone loved her rendition of the song, and even her critics Beverly and Alyssa reluctantly clapped for her performance.

"You know that this whole staying behind for me thing is never going to work, right?" Sam said in her ear. "You belong at UCLA, with that Music Performance major under your belt so you can kick ass in LA."

"Oh, I'm going." She nodded. "But you have to promise that you're coming right after me. Nothing but the best for both of us."

"Amen." He agreed with a nod. "We're gonna do big things together."

**O-O**

Brittany ran back onstage as soon as the applause died down. "What a way to end karaoke hour!" she cheered. "And just in time, too! The ballots are in and our prom king and queen are ready to be announced! Will all of the candidates please come to the stage?"

Quinn and Beverly joined Mercedes onstage, standing to her left. Sam let go of his girl's hand and moved farther right, to join Puck and the rowdy football player on the prom king side. "Is everyone here?" The group nodded. "Well, alright! First up is prom king." Sugar handed her a blue envelope covered in glitter. "This year's senior prom king was elected for his bravery, selflessness, and sexy washboard abs." The girls in the crowd whistled. "Our McKinley senior prom king is...Sam Evans!"

Sam humbly bowed to the parade of applause and allowed Brittany to crown him. After he fixed his bangs, giving them a quick ruffle, he stepped forward to accept his blue and gold "Prom King" sash and scepter. Puck gave his best bro a congratulatory pat on the back, but the lineman candidate (who was strangely in uniform), threw down his helmet and shoulder pads before stomping off the stage. Sam shared a _what the hell?_ look with Mercedes as he disappeared into the crowd.

"And now, the moment we've all really been waiting for, our prom queen." Sugar offered her the blood red envelope and clapped as Brittany ripped it open. Quinn couldn't resist leaning forward to sneak a peek at the card. Surprisingly, seeing her name as the winner didn't give her the satisfaction she thought it would.

"See? I told you that you were a shoo-in," Mercedes whispered to her, casting her glance to the card herself. "Everyone loves you, Baby doll."

"This candidate was elected for her stunning beauty, sure sense of self, and willingness to help her fellow man. I can say that all of these things are true from personal experience, since she is a very dear friend of mine. Our McKinley prom queen is..."

"WAIT!" Quinn yelled, snatching the card from Brittany's hands and ripping it to bits. "Stop! I can't win."

"How did you know it was you?" asked a shocked Brittany. "Are you psychic?"

"No, Brit. I just have excellent vision. And, as flattered as I am to win, I can't accept the crown." The crowd began to murmur amongst themselves. Sugar quickly slid over and grabbed Quinn's arm.

"Quinn, the whole school voted and they picked you. Now take the pretty crown, wave your dainty little hand, say thanks, and shut up!" she said through her teeth, smiling to the crowd.

"I can't do that, Sugar. Everything they said about me isn't true." Quinn took the mike and pushed the girls aside, taking center stage. "You voted for me because I'm popular, not because you think I'm any of those things. I know this because I know myself, and I am anything but selfless and confident. I didn't even know who I was until this semester. I've been unkind and rude to half of you, and completely fake to the other half. You picked me because that's the way high school works. You can be pretty and a complete bitch, but still win because everyone believes that it's how a prom queen should act. It's not true at all."

Mercedes eyes grew wide when Quinn beckoned her over and took her hand. "Quinn, what are you doing?"

"This is one of my best friends. Her name is Mercedes Jones. Most of you probably passed her over on the ballot because you don't think she's prom queen material. She isn't the most popular or a cheerleader or super thin. She doesn't make herself known. Hell, she didn't even want to be prom queen because she knew how much I wanted it." Quinn smiled and kissed her friend on the cheek. "But, if you ask me, she's more queen than I am. Everything you've said about me describes is everything she is. She took me into her home when I had my baby and didn't ask any questions. She was there by my side during her birth, and held my hand the whole time. She loved me when I was unlovable, and stuck by me even when I did her wrong. And whether most of you believe it or not, she saved countless women by being brave enough to expose a wicked boy for who he truly was. She was ready to take a bullet to protect me and the entire glee club. We probably wouldn't be celebrating our prom without her."

"Quinn, you really can't do this," Mercedes insisted. "I don't need the praise for anything. They picked you. You're prom queen. I'm okay with that."

"Well, I'm renouncing my title. Queens can do that, right?" Quinn replied, taking the crown from the pillow Sugar held and placing it on Mercedes head. "It fits you like a dream, babe."

Their rapt audience watched as Tina adorned Mercedes with the sash and bouquet of roses. The quiet brown girl from earlier walked forward and stood right in front, smiling to herself as she watched her secret hero wear a glittering crown fit for royalty.

"And I think the people that matter need to see you wear that crown," Quinn whispered to her, pointing out the teary eyed girl in the crowd. Mercedes shyly waved at her.

"Now, does anyone have a problem with Mercedes being prom queen?" The crowd remained silent. "Anyone at all?"

Most didn't care and shrugged it off. The rest of them that were more invested in court elections quietly mumbled to themselves, hesitant to go against the grain and speak up against the fearsome Quinn Fabray. They wisely chose to keep their opinions to themselves.

"Well, there you have it. Mercedes is your new prom queen. It is law." Quinn smiled, knocking an imaginary gavel on her palm. "Besides, I think that Sam would much rather dance with you than me."

Mercedes, still taken aback by it all, plucked one of the roses from her bouquet and handed it to the small brown girl watching her.

"What's your name?" she asked her quietly.

"Jessica," she replied shyly, clutching the fragile stem in her fist.

"Well, Jessica, thank you for voting for me." Mercedes smiled. "I hope I'll be a good queen."

"I think so," Jessica replied, sniffing her flower with a smile as she retreated into the crowd.

"Well, there you have it, I guess! Our new prom queen is... Ms. Mercedes Jones!" Brittany cheerfully announced, clapping along with the rest of the students. "The king and queen will now share a dance."

Sam smiled and jumped off the stage. He moved to stand in front of her and reach for her hand.

"Shall we, Your Majesty?" he crooned, kissing her knuckle. She rolled her eyes at his formality, but couldn't deny the warm feeling that stirred in her belly.

"Yes, King Samuel," she answered softly, carefully stepping down and into his arms. Brittany quickly shuffled over to the DJ.

"Hey, I know we were gonna play that other song, but could you play something a little bit more romantic? This is kind of a special night for them." The DJ nodded and stroked his goatee as he searched his records. His smile let her know that he'd found the perfect tune, and with a silent thumbs up, he threw on the track and turned up the volume.

When the soft piano began, and the soft yellow spotlight hit the clearing in the middle of the dance floor, Mercedes knew that she would remember this dance for the rest of her life.

Sam walked her over, settled her right hand on his shoulder, and entwined the fingers of her left hand with his as they began to sway.

_**I will never find another lover**_

_**Sweeter than you, sweeter than you**_

_**And I will never find another lover**_

_**More precious than you, more precious than you**_

_**Girl, you are close to me just like my mother**_

_**Close to me just like my father**_

_**Close to me just like my sister**_

_**Close to me just like my brother**_

_**You are the only one, my everything**_

_**And for you this song I sing**_

_**And all my life I've prayed for someone like you**_

_**And I thank God that I, that I finally found you**_

_**All my life I prayed for someone like you**_

_**And I hope that you feel the same way, too**_

_**Yes I pray that you do love me, too**_

"Are you glad you came to prom, sweetheart?" Sam asked, gently squeezing her waist.

"Yes," she said, laying her head on his chest. "I'm so glad."

"Good." He kissed her warm forehead and leaned his cheek against it, enjoying their closeness.

_**Said, I promise to never fall in love with a stranger**_  
><em><strong>You're all I'm thinkin' of<strong>_  
><em><strong>I praise the lord above<strong>_  
><em><strong>For sending me your love<strong>_  
><em><strong>I cherish every hug<strong>_  
><em><strong>I really love you<strong>_

They kissed during the peak of the song, smiling against each other's lips as they swayed. Words would ruin their moment. K-CI and JoJo filled in all the silence between them with everything they couldn't say.

_**And all my life (Ohhhh...baby, baby)**_  
><em><strong>I've prayed for someone like you,<strong>_  
><em><strong>And I thank God that I...that I finally found you,<strong>_  
><em><strong>All my life I prayed for someone like you<strong>_  
><em><strong>And I hope that you feel the same way too<strong>_  
><em><strong>Yes, I pray that you do love me<strong>_

"Will all the lovers in the room join the king and queen on the dance floor? Show that special someone how you really feel." The DJ's smooth baritone announced. "Enjoy this night of magic." The rest of the students filled the floor, holding their dates close and whispering their own "I love you" sentiments to their partners.

_**You're all that I ever known**_  
><em><strong>When you smile, on my face, all I see is a glow<strong>_  
><em><strong>You turned my life around<strong>_  
><em><strong>You picked me up when I was down<strong>_  
><em><strong>You're all that I ever known<strong>_  
><em><strong>When you smile, my face glows<strong>_  
><em><strong>You picked me up when I was down<strong>_

"You know, it's funny. They picked you for prom king because you almost took a bullet, but they shunned me because I was the one that called Donovan out on his mess, even though he was the one that almost shot you," Mercedes chuckled. "Is that backwards or what?"

"It doesn't even matter now. The crown's on the right woman," Sam said, moving her bang from her forehead to see her eyes. "I told you that you were a queen."

"Yes, you did." Mercedes happily sighed. "Thank you for reminding me that I'm worth being adored."

**_And I hope that you feel the same way too_**  
><strong><em>Yes I pray that you do love me tooAll my life<em>**  
><strong><em>I prayed for someone like you<em>**  
><strong><em>And I thank God that I, that I finally found you<em>**  
><strong><em>All my life<em>**  
><strong><em>I prayed for someone like you<em>**  
><strong><em>Yes, I pray that you do love me too<em>**

**O-O**

The rest of the next hour passed rather quickly, with a number of choice slow songs to get everyone in a sensual mood. Before anyone realized it, their magical night was almost over.

"Alright party people, my watch is telling me that it's ten minutes to midnight. Before we close out this night of fantasy and wonder, let's remember the rules. Always keep it safe, keep it classy, and most importantly, keep it consensual," said the DJ in his velvety voice, above the instrumental beat to _Backstreet's back_. "There are tables at every exit with several choice options for those who plan to...party until dawn." The white of his smile looked positively porcelain below his dark shades and against his even darker skin. "Ladies, there are a few special options available to you too, so don't feel left out. After all, DJ Shady loves the ladies."

"Doesn't that guy sound _exactly _like Mos Def?" Mercedes asked Sam, squinting at the DJ's bobbing figure in the dim hall.

"I was gonna say more James Earl Jones myself." Sam shrugged, clearly less curious. "Who's Most Def?"

"_Mos_ Def, babe." She laughed sweetly, kissing his cheek. "Remind me to school you sometime."

"Teach me your ebony ways, oh divalicious one." His Darth Vader impression failed miserably after all of the screaming and singing he'd done this evening, but she humored him with a laugh anyway.

"You are so impossibly adorable, I swear," she said, shaking her head.

"Since we started this night with a live tune, why don't we bring back the party music to finish us off." The hall brightened and lit up in multicolor again. "This special tune was one of my favorites back in the day. I hope that it's one of yours."

When the beat dropped, Mercedes's shoulders immediately started bouncing. "I used to LOVE this song! C'mon Sam, we have to dance."

Sam gently pulled her back. "You know that I was totally kidding about my sick dance moves, right? You do remember who you're dating...right?"

Mercedes sucked her teeth. "Oh please, you make yourself sound like some hopeless case. You've got _some_ moves, Sam. I've seen them. C'mon!" She turned around and grabbed his hands, leading him out to the dance floor. "I'll do all the work. You can just enjoy the view."

**_So hot, hot_**  
><strong><em>It's the S the L the I the M<em>**  
><strong><em>Let me tell you what I wanna do<em>**  
><strong><em>Let me show you that I'm feelin' you<em>**  
><strong><em>Wanna sex, wanna ride with you<em>**  
><strong><em>Wanna taste, wanna put my lips all over you<em>**  
><strong><em>Can't get enough of you<em>**  
><strong><em>Always taken of you<em>**  
><strong><em>So sweet, so very wet<em>**  
><strong><em>So good, girl you make me sweat<em>**

**_Girl I'm talkin' 'bout_**  
><strong><em>Peaches and cream<em>**

Mercedes pressed her back against his front as he slid his hands over the widest part of her hips.

"Just, hold me steady, okay?" Her body started to swing back and forth to the beat, sliding against him c with every pass. When he squeezed her gently, she arched her back, wiggling her ass as she bent over.

"I like dancing. Dancing is good," he murmured, eyes wide as he watched her ass practically envelop him. She crouched down and slowly snaked back up his body, pushing his hands down the front of her thighs as she slithered against his chest.

"Is it _very _good?" she gasped when he wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed that spot near her clavicle that made her moan without thought.

"The best." he growled, following her hips with every sway. Mercedes pretended not to notice the bulging fruit of his enjoyment pressing against her bottom.

**_I never thought that I would be_**  
><strong><em>So addicted to you<em>**  
><strong><em>On top, underneath, on the side of you<em>**  
><strong><em>Better yet baby inside of you<em>**  
><strong><em>Love the way you're just flowin down<em>**  
><strong><em>And I can feel it all around<em>**  
><strong><em>In the front, in the back of you<em>**  
><strong><em>Ooh I love the taste of you<em>**  
><strong><em>Girl you know what I'm talking about<em>**  
><strong><em>Peaches and cream<em>**

"I should be upset with you, Evans," she said above the music. "You couldn't keep a secret."

"How so?" he twirled her around and brought her back to him, meeting her face to face. "And what secret?"

"About our plans after prom," she explained, running her hands over the V of his lapel. "You told all of our friends."

"I didn't!" Sam's hands snuck away to her bottom, and her small nod gave him permission to squeeze as she moved against him. "I mean, I didn't give details. It's not like I went around bragging or anything. I just wanted to get some help. I'm not even sure if you'll still _want _to...wait, who told you?"

Without even realizing it, Sam started to meet her moves with a few of his own, pushing back every time she pulled away so their bodies always touched. "Sugar." She slyly smiled. "And I never accused you of bragging. Were you bragging, Sammy?"

"Sugar? How in the hell did she find out?" He body rolled in his confusion as Mercedes danced around him. "I was just trying to get some help. I wanted to make everything perfect for you, so I asked them to chip in some funds."

"Joe told her. And I know." Mercedes gave a naughty grin and stole a quick kiss. Feeling bold, she kissed down his chin and across the bulge on his neck. "I just wanted to make you sweat."

Sam blew out a quick breath, relieved to feel his blood pressure decelerate. "Believe me, there are better ways to make me sweat, sweetheart." He grabbed her waist, kneading her thickness with a pleased smile. "You seem to know how."

_**Won't stop girl you know I can't get enough**_  
><em><strong>Wanna taste it in the morning when I'm waking up<strong>_  
><em><strong>Like peach cobbler in my stomach when I eat it up<strong>_  
><em><strong>Got your legs around my neck so I can't get up<strong>_

"Really?" Mercedes coyly replied. She grabbed his ass without warning and pulled her to him. "This was just practice."

The force from someone so small amused him—and turned him on. "I love it when you handle me." He confessed in a needy growl. "Practice all you'd like."

His eyes darkened in a way that made her tremble and cling to his heat.

**_I see you, looking at me_**

**_I can by your eyes that you're feeling me_**

**_And I really want you to get close to me_**

**_So won't you dance with me, dance with me_**

**_My drop top's in the parking lot_**

**_And I wanna take you back to my spot_**

**_But we still gotta little more time to rock_**

**_So won't you dance with me, dance with me_**

"Since we're making confessions..." Sam began.

"Yeah?" He leaned in so close, she could taste his breath. He tasted like fruit and spearmint, like childhood Jolly Rancher and grown folk Trident gum.

"I had to tell your dad about tonight, too. He knows about the hotel room."

The mention of her dad took her right out of her haze. "What? Why didn't you tell me that?!"

"He didn't freak out! I told him that we had planned to spend the night together and he was totally cool about it. I just had to promise to take care of you, make sure you weren't hurt." Her perplexed stare made him throw up his hands. "I swear it."

"You told _my _dad that you and I planned to have sex tonight and he was _cool with it _as long as you _took care of me?_" Mercedes had a way of making his perfectly reasonable explanations sound utterly ludicrous.

"Well, yeah," he lamely replied. "Maybe he finally sees us as adults and trusts us to make the right decisions."

"Yeah, and maybe Richard Simmons is just a straight guy who enjoys the feel of glittery pink spandex. Open your jacket," she demanded, already starting to unbutton him.

"What? Why?" Sam started to laugh when she searched his pockets and felt along his shoulders. "What, you think that your dad put a wire on me?"

"Sam, I never told you this, but before my dad went into medicine, he used to work for the government. He handled covert cases for a classified sector of the C.I.A."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "Stop playing."

Mercedes paused and merely blinked at him, expression devoid of all humor.

"You're not playing?!" he gulped. Sam's face drained of color. Mercedes, ever determined, continued to pat him down. "But,when? How? Why?"

"Before I was born, started after the military, and I can't answer that without compromising our safety. As far as we're concerned, it never happened," she replied. "It was a brief stint, but some old habits die hard."

Sam snapped out of his shock. "But, he barely touched me. Don't you have to tape a wire on someone?"

"Not if you're stealthy." Mercedes cryptically replied, pulling his shirt out of his pants to feel each button. "I'll bet he hugged you, didn't he?"

"Yeah, for like five seconds. But, we shared a moment. That doesn't mean that..." Mercedes held a tiny black blinking device on her finger, round and as large as the size of a small button. "Oh."

"I found it under the fold of your shirt sleeve. I know that man better than I know the back of my hand." She bit the small device until it whistled and its light died out, and then crushed its remains under the sole of her heel. "Trust, my ass."

"I thought that we really connected." Sam frowned, scratching his chin. "I thought that he liked me."

His sad eyes broke her heart. Mercedes stroked his downtrodden face in comfort. "My dad loves you, Sam. But, love or not, you're still a boy. In his mind, that automatically means that you need to be monitored around me. And now that he knows we're having sex, well…" She sighed. "Let's just say that we might have to start searching your clothes after every hug."

Her little joke fell on deaf ears. "He told me that I was a part of the family. You think that's true?" he asked, finally looking at her.

"Well, I know that he couldn't see me with anyone else but you."

"How do you know that?" he asked timidly.

"Because he told me." His little shocked squeak made her laugh. "Honest! We had a really, really long talk about you."

"And when did this happen?" he smiled. "Did you tell him how irresistible you are to my charms? How sexy you think I am?"

"Do you want to keep your life?" she sassed, hushing him with a finger to his lips. "My dad adores you. Scream and fangirl in your room later. Now, just shut up and dance with me."

"Geez! So bossy!" he joked. They were right in the middle of a jazz instrumental version of Nat King Cole's _Unforgettable_ when he took her hand in his. The hall was now nearly empty, except for a few stray lovers lingering on the dance floor. Only one pale yellow light illuminated their corner of the room.

"Sam?"

He loved the sound of his name on her lips. "Yes, my love?"

She gently pulled him closer, until his forehead rested on hers. They felt rather than heard each other sigh, then softly chuckled together at their synchronized breath. "Can we always stay like this?"

"Dancing?" he replied, misunderstanding her on purpose. "You'd tire me out."

"No, Sam," she deadpanned. "I mean, can we always stay in love like this?"

"Of course we can," he answered seriously." It'll take work, though. Lots of effort."

"One of us might want to quit. It might be me. I'm super stubborn," she joked.

"Hey, it could be me, you never know. I'm no good at talking about my feelings."

"But, you'd tell me, right?" she asked hopefully, looking up at him.

"Always you, Mercy." He smiled, rubbing his nose against hers. "Always you."

"Then, I can be less stubborn if you agree to talk more. If we do that, we'll never want to leave."

"I don't plan on leaving," he assured her. "I'll stick it out the next eighty years if you'll come with me."

The thought of them growing old together, dancing like they were now with sore joints and graying hair, made her tear up. _Maybe it's the song_, she reasoned. But her heart knew the song had little to do with it.

"I can do eighty years, Sam Evans," she quietly promised.

They danced for a little while longer in silence, until the song neared the end. By then, the floor had cleared, and they were the only ones left in the hall.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Do you...I mean, if you want to, we could...I'm not trying to pressure you or anything...But I want to, only if _you _want to...shit." His nerves literally took the words out of his mouth. Mercedes thought it was the most endearing sight in the whole world. Knowing he was nervous about asking her to their hotel room calmed her in the strangest way. It made her feel loved instead of lusted after, like he'd be careful and take his time. He might fumble or slip up, but they would figure it out together, and that thought took some of the uneasy pressure away.

"Yes, Sam. I would like to get out of here," she said surely, smiling at him. "You can call the driver."

When the music had finally stopped, she'd expected him to dash over to their table for his cell phone. Instead, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her like he couldn't bear to leave her side. Mercedes held his shoulders and returned his affections, leaning into his lips with a soft huff of breath. Sam craned his neck and angled them; just enough to part her lips with little effort and wrap his tongue around hers.

"I love you," he said in their parting between breaths. "I love you so much that saying it over and over feels meaningless now. I want to show you."

"I like hearing you say it. It sounds new every time you tell me." She kissed him again, pulling him deeper. "But, I want you to show me, too. I've wanted you to show me for months."

"Then let's get out of here, princess." He smiled, and walked her over by the hand to their tables to gather their things.

Their hotel was only five minutes away from the venue. They were only five minutes away from re-consummating a bond that had been sullied by circumstance. Only five minutes of distance stood between them and the last of their freedoms as a couple.

But after all of the time they'd spent weeping, fighting and bleeding for this day, five minutes didn't seem like forever at all. So they moved leisurely, enjoying their closeness, and called their limo only when they'd had their fill of each other's soft touches and softer lips, wishing for more.

**O-O**

**So, this chapter means three things:**

**Next chapter is the big sexy SEX chapter that I've been promising since sometime around chapter eleven, but it might not be quite what you're expecting. The surprise will be a good surprise, though. More meaningful, in my humble opinion.**

**Mercedes is reflecting a lot more on her relationship with Sam and her counseling sessions with Bee, which will have more of a focus in the next chapter. Sam's counseling sessions will also be mentioned if all goes according to plan, and we'll get to see more of Sam's journey to this pivotal moment in their relationship since the attack.**

**Yes, Brittany and Santana do enjoy strap-on sex, Sugar and Joe are definitely together, Kurt caught the holy ghost from Blaine's penis, and the rest of the glee clubbers enjoy dry humping in public. They're all sexually active band geeks. You're welcome.**

**On a side tangent, bonus fanfiction points to anyone who can identify where exactly that apple scene between Mr. Jones and Sam came from in the last chapter. I'll give you a hint: Remember that the face claim for Mr. Jones is Malcolm Jamal Warner, and I mentioned that "his dad" taught him how to do it. I just want to see if anyone was as obsessed with television as I was in my youth. It helps me feel less pathetic.**

**_Song List for Prom:_**

**This is how we do it—Montell Williams**

**Imagination—Tamia**

**Big Willie Style (Gettin' Jiggy with it)—Will Smith**

**Electric Boogie-Marcia Griffith (For Electric Slide)**

**Macarena- Los Del Rio**

**Humpty Dance—Digital Underground**

**Show Me Love—Robin S.***

**Pump the Jam—Technotronic***

**Be my lover—La bouche***

**Cover girl –RuPaul* (millennium song with 90's feel)**

**Blue -Eiffel 65***

**You can't touch this—MC Hammer***

**Baby got back—Sir Mix-a-lot***

**Bye Bye Bye —N sync***

**Everybody (Backstreet's back)—Backstreet Boys***

**Heartbreaker—Mariah Carey**

**You sang to me—Marc Anthony**

**Angel of Mine—Monica**

**Shoop—Salt-n-Pepa**

**Waiting for Tonight (Dance Mix)—Jennifer Lopez**

**What is Love—Haddaway**

**Ice, Ice baby—Vanilla Ice**

**This Kiss—Faith Hill**

**Pony—Ginuwine**

**Seems Like you're ready—R. Kelly**

**I wanna sex you up—Color Me Badd**

**Beautiful Stranger-Madonna (during voting of Prom Queen) ***

**Say yes—Whitney Houston**

**All My Life—K-ci and JoJo**

**Peaches and Cream—112**

**You're making me high—Toni Braxton***

**You mean the world to me—Toni Braxton***

**Unforgettable (Jazz version)—Nat King Cole**

***= Not mentioned in story, but included in prom**


	29. Chapter 28 Freedom (1 of 2)

**A/N: Okay, readers. I'm really gonna need your feedback on this one. Yes, even those who often read and don't review. I don't mind it, usually. Enjoy the read. But for this one? I'm gonna need you to speak up. **

**This is smut. I don't write whole chapters of smut on the regular. The thought alone is making my eye twitch. **

**The only good thing is that I selfishly wrote all of it for my pleasure. I fangirled over Samcedes all over again, and that thought alone gave me the courage to publish. The thought of sexy times written by me still unnerves me, though….**

**So, could you tell me what you think, just this once? Positive, constructive criticism and all that lies in between are acceptable. I appreciate it. And I appreciate you more for reading!**

**Xoxo, **

**KurlyQ722**

**O-O**

The lovers stood under the hooded canopy in front of the building, wrapped in each other's arms as they waited for their limo. The driver had informed Sam that he'd be running a bit late due to the predicted traffic of prom season. In the meantime, the blonde took advantage of every spare second he had alone with his girlfriend. Making out in the romantic ambiance of the dance hall had really put him in an affectionate mood. He couldn't stop feeling Mercedes up.

The mood of the night had switched his girl on as well. The slight rubbing of her back against his front grew more obvious as the minutes passed. There was no one around them at the moment but, even if there were, the prying eyes wouldn't stop her from grinding on him. And judging from their progression to groping hands and sloppy kisses, the couple didn't plan on restraining themselves anytime soon.

"Sam, why do you always kiss my neck?"

His lips were already nestled under her chin, worshipping her throat when he replied. "Besides the fact that I know what it does to you? Like that week before I left, when I was kissing on you and I could feel you clenching because my fingers were in your..."

"I remember, Sam!" she hurriedly replied, covering his mouth and laughing in embarrassment. "Oh my god, you're shameless."

Sam shrugged and brushed her fallen hair out of the way to resume his kisses. "It's because—" His lips lingered her under her chin, simply breathing against her, until she whimpered from the heat and reached up to run her fingers through his hair. "I remember that time you told me that you hated how short your neck was. I never understood why. It suits you. I want you to know how much I enjoy being here...being in the places you try to hide."

"Mmm, Sam," she moaned, biting her lip from the pleasure of his words and the gentle suction of his mouth over that spot that drove her mad. "Your lips are lethal."

"Why'd you say that?" he chuckled, gently tilting her neck further to the side to kiss behind her ear. She whimpered again, and rubbed herself more earnestly against him in a silent plea for more affection. He gladly complied, kissing the sensitive spot near her clavicle as he pulled her more tightly against his chest. "They killing you now, baby?"

"Please don't kiss my spot and call me baby and smell so good when we're outside and I can't have you." she pleaded. When his only reply was to suck her sensitive place even harder, Mercedes grabbed the sides of his gyrating hips and pushed them away from her. His hands quickly took their place, cupping and gently squeezing her ass cheeks. "Sam, _please._" She sighed and arched when his fingertips touched the small of her exposed back and snuck under her dress. "Baby..."

"The driver should be here any minute now," he whispered, twirling the elastic of her thong around her finger. The lacy material made him even hornier, and he toyed with the idea of tugging just a bit harder to rip it off her body. "Can I have you then, when he comes? Can I lay you down on the leather cushions and bury my fingers in that sweet pussy?"

"Sam, you're so not fair right now." A hand crept around her waist and rested over her stomach, drawing idle circles over her belly button. Her breaths grew shorter as it crept north, inching closer to her breast. "Sam! Uh, god!"

"I just want to touch you, Mercedes," he confessed, breathing just as fast. He cupped her left breast and squeezed, gently twisting her clothed nipple. The bud hardened between his fingers, and the couple groaned together. "I want to touch your naked body and lick every fucking square inch of it. Say you'll let me."

"Let...let you?" She panted. Mercedes turned her head and forcefully crushed her lips against his. Her tongue dominated their kiss and wrapped around his, pulling him inside her mouth, showing him just how much access he had to every wet, warm place she possessed. A webbing of their mixed saliva stretched across their bottom lips as they parted, and Sam groaned when the thick pink muscle that had rendered him stiff wriggled out to lap up their fluids. "Sam, I _demand_ that you taste every part of me. I love your tongue."

"Yeah?" he flicked his tongue against her lips. She sighed and pressed her nose to his, drawing closer to him. "You like that?"

"I love it." She growled, licking him back. "I fucking love it."

"You like me licking you?" he whispered.

"I get so wet when you lick me, baby," she replied. The sexy, confident way she smiled made his cock twitch.

"My little freak wants to come out and play?" he muttered, rubbing his wet lips against hers and mingling their breaths.

"I wanna play." She nodded eagerly. "I wanna play with you, Sammy."

"Mmm, fuck." he murmured, palming her ass."Call me Sammy again, Mercedes. Call me Sammy with that sexy ass voice of yours and see if I don't pick you up and take you right here. I dare you." He grabbed the backs of her thighs and swiftly lifted her off the ground, proving his threat had merit.

Being lifted made her grin. Her seemingly innocent eyes stared into his smoldering ones as she bent her head to nip his lower lip. "_Sammy," _she whispered, squeezing the plump flesh between her teeth. "Sammy, Sammy, My Sam—"

Mercedes suddenly fell to her feet. Before she could reach for him to steady herself, Sam grabbed her face with both hands and passionately kissed her, throwing her further off kilter. Her body fell back and yanked his hips with her, digging her fingers into his sides as she returned his kiss with equal force. Sam swung an arm around her waist to steady them. Her light smack across his bottom made him grunt, and Mercedes discovered that she enjoyed the feeling of its vibration quivering down her throat. Her small hands spanked him harder the second time and squeezed without warning. Sam smiled at the twinge of pain it left behind.

"Hurt me, Mercy." He begged, eyes twinkling. "Hurt me bad, baby."

"Nasty boy," she whispered, smiling against his grin. Their lips smacked in a gentler, lingering kiss. "My nasty, nasty boy."

"Damn right, Ms. Jones," he replied, slowly drawing up the sides of her dress to touch her bare thighs. "It is Ms. Jones, right? 'Cause I'm nasty?"

"Great Janet reference, baby," she said, pulling his shirt out of his pants and running her fingers between the furrowed spaces of his abs. "But she's mostly 80s."

"Woman, ain't nobody payin' attention to decades right now. Not when I have a fine ass woman standing in front of me and spanking my behind." He told her.

"You can spank me back if you'd like. It's only fair." She jumped when his hand clapped twice against her right cheek, hard and quick. "Mmm, Sam_..._" He lifted her leg to his waist, sliding his hand along the smooth skin of her thigh peeking through the slit. "Yeah, go all the way, baby. All the way up my dress..." His fingers slid higher and higher, drawing loops over her skin as he neared her hips and the moisture than lay between them. "Touch me right there...Fuck..."

Sam leaned her against the wall for support and grabbed the sides of her underwear. The cool brick against her warm back made Mercedes shiver. She felt him roll the delicate fabric between his fingers and gently pull, easing her thong ever so slightly down her thighs. She lifted her leg higher to deter its fall, teasing him, and the sudden movement shifted Sam's nails across her skin, lightly scraping the sensitive place near her groin. His sex pressed against hers. The charge between them increased tenfold, quickening their blood, but before Mercedes could unbuckle his belt to cup him and Sam could raise his hand to give her left cheek the same stinging greeting as her right, the sound of a clearing throat interrupted them.

"I'm just going to file this under things that ex-boyfriends should never see their ex-girlfriends do with their new boyfriends," chuckled Shane, covering his eyes as he walked toward them. "Is it safe to look now? Are you guys decent?"

"Dude, honestly, I swear you're cock-blocking on purpose now." Sam groaned, reluctantly stepping back to pull down Mercedes' dress. "What, man?"

"Well, you did steal my girlfriend from me, so I think it's only fair," quipped Shane. Mercedes stood between them after she adjusted her underwear, blocking her boyfriend as he wriggled his burgeoning erection.

"What do you want, Shane?" Mercedes smirked, reading him like a book. "You know, besides the joy of bugging me."

"You know I've got nothing but love for you baby," he smoothly replied, chuckling deeply.

Sam eyed their interaction as he tucked his shirt in and frowned. Watching his woman's eyes light up for another man, especially after the hot and heavy moment they'd shared seconds ago, really made him cross.

"Is this important?" Sam asked annoyed, stepping in front of Mercedes. "We kind of have our own business to take care of."

"Sam, relax." Mercedes gently chided, kissing his cheek to calm him. "Shane's apologized. We're just friends now. He knows what we have."

Sam dismissed the notion of friends with a grunt, side-eyeing the larger jock as he stepped back behind her. He didn't trust Shane for a second, but he did have enough faith in Mercedes's word to stand down.

"You've upset my boyfriend now, Shane. This better be good enough to risk your life over." Mercedes giggled. Sam nodded behind her, more serious about the threat than she was.

"Hey, I don't mean any harm," Shane said humbly, backing away and throwing up his hands. "I just thought that I'd extend a friendly invitation to the meeting of a lifetime."

Mercedes curiously frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"One of my boys has the major hook up, Mercy! You remember James, the linebacker that came to my pool party last year?"

"The one with the woman hands?" She nodded, recalling his face from memory." Sure. Why?"

"Well, his cousin is Diggy Simmons."

"_Diggy Simmons?!_ As in Run DMC's son, Russell Simmons's nephew Diggy Simmons?" She asked excitedly. He laughed and nodded.

"I know, right? It's crazy. At first I thought he was bull shitting me, but he called up Diggy himself and invited him over! He's in my ride right now! Look!"

Shane pointed to the purple party bus behind him. The windows rolled down, and Lil' Wayne's _Six foot, Seven Foot_ polluted the air. Sure enough, the celebrity teen popped his head out, surrounded by a group of partying McKinley kids.

"Yo, we leaving or what? I gotta go back on a flight in three hours!" he yelled, waving Shane over.

"Hold on! I'm inviting my girl!" Shane yelled back. Sam charged forward, ready to correct his possessive ass, but Mercedes calmed him with a gentle, loving squeeze on his arm.

"His folks are in town for a conference and Big Russ is with them!" Shane explained. "They're heading to the airport soon, but Dig told me that his dad is thinking about starting another label for rising artists. Mercedes, this could be your break! This is your chance, baby!"

"Oh man, are you serious right now?" She screamed, jumping up and down. "Baby , did you hear that? They're looking for rising artists like me! This is my ticket!"

"Yeah, I heard." Sam answered despondently. Her excitement dampened when she saw his crestfallen expression. _Damnit, girl. This was your big night with Sam._

"Sam..." She said quietly, touching his cheek. "I won't go. Baby, if you don't want me to go..."

"Are you kidding me? Mercedes, this is it! Nobody should hold you back!" Shane protested. Her hardened brown eyes quieted him.

"Baby?" She rubbed his cheek until he looked at her.

"Mercedes, Shane is right. This is your big break. You should take it." He told her, smiling sadly. "Besides, it's only an hour or two, right? You can go, come back, and then I'll have you the whole night all to myself. It'll be perfect." Unconvinced, Mercedes kissed his cheek and joined her forehead with his.

"I know what tonight means for us," she whispered, fiddling with his hands.

"Hey." He pulled a genuine smirk, hoping to reassure her. "I can share you for a little bit. Baby, this is your dream. We only get a few chances in life, and this might be the one that gets you where you need to be. I trust that you'll come back to me. I..." He gave a hesitating look toward Shane. "I trust that he'll take care of you while you're gone. _Go. _Go fulfill your dreams."

"I love you more than anything," she sighed as she kissed his lips. "Thank you for understanding."

"Hey, I know you woman." He told her, smiling. "You need a stage to shine on. Just remember that you're mine after you win that Grammy. That hand is promised to me."

She followed his gaze to her left ring finger and laughed. "_After _my Grammy, Sam. No exceptions."

"Well, maybe you'll get it sooner if you go. I can't wait to call you my missus." He quietly told her.

"I can't wait to be your missus, Mr. Evans." She replied, voice just as soft. Her cheeks warmed when he bowed and kissed her hand.

The bus horn blared behind them, and Shane started to grow antsy. "No offense, but the place is almost an hour from here. If you're coming, we've got to leave now."

Mercedes stole one last glance at her boyfriend before she let his hand go. "Are you sure? You're not mad."

"A little disappointed maybe, but hey, I'll manage." He shrugged. "Blow them away. I'll see you in two hours."

Mercedes nodded and walked toward Shane, smiling at the bouncing bus behind him. "Shane?"

"Yeah? You know what you're gonna sing?" he asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation. Her voice always rocked his world.

"Yeah, I do. But anything I sing is going to be for my boyfriend. I'm spending the night with him tonight. Our limo should be here shortly."

Both men stepped closer and surrounded her, shocked by her answer. "C-come again?" Sam sputtered.

She calmly smiled and nudged Shane's chin to close his gaping mouth. "I said I'm not going. Shane, I think I'm going to sit this one out."

"But Mercy, this is your chance! Russell Simmons and Run-DMC don't just show up in Ohio every day! What are you thinking?" Shane glanced at Sam. The blonde stared back and shook his head, just as thrown by her decision as he was. "Look, I know that you and Sam have a thing planned tonight. I respect it. I'm not trying to get in between you two anymore, I swear. But this might be one of the stupidest decisions you've ever made! Why would you give up a chance to get your album started?"

"Mercedes, if this is about me or feeling guilty, I swear I'm cool with it." Sam assured her.

"I'm not making this decision because I feel guilty." Mercedes told them, laughing at their expressions of disbelief. "I'm not going because I know that my voice is going to open doors for me, now and in the future. I know that I'm gonna be a star and make an album whether or not I go tonight. Sure, it might be more of a struggle later, but I'll make it. I don't need to run off to meet Run-DMC and make it happen _now_. God orchestrates my life, and he won't fail me. This isn't my time."

"God also creates opportunities so that you can take them. Don't miss your boat because of me." Sam warned.

Mercedes nodded. "You are absolutely right. God does create opportunities. And sometimes he gives us second chances. I'm not missing mine this time."

Sam's face scrunched, puzzled. She patted his shoulder and turned back to Shane. "Have fun. And please, tell Shanice I said good luck."

"How did you know I was with Shanice?" Shane asked, nodding back to the truck.

"She's an old Trouble Tones friend. Two nights ago, she called me to tell me that you guys were dating. I told her it was cool. You're good people." She grinned, playfully punching his shoulder.

Shane smiled and backed away, rubbing his chin. "You're the one who got her to go out with me? I've been trying for two weeks."

"Hey, trust me, she's no easy girl." Mercedes chuckled. "Treat her right, okay?"

"Of course. I'm just going to have to keep her away from those blonde country boys." The two shared an understanding smile.

Shane reached out a hand to a still confused Sam, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Hey man, can we call a truce? I already know the better man won. I don't want any bad blood between us."

Sam nodded and took his hand, pulling him in for a manly hug and pat. "The _right_ man won, dude," he corrected. "It had nothing to do with better. We're cool."

The boys ended the hug with a fist bump, and Shane ran off to board his bus to drive off into the night. Sam and Mercedes' limo pulled up right behind it seconds later, parking in its previous place.

"A second chance?" he asked her, hoping that she'd fill in the blanks.

Mercedes linked their fingers and leisurely led him to the limo, joined hands swaying as they walked. "There was a time not long ago when this girl who stands before you didn't realize what she had." Mercedes began. "She let a little attention and fame get to her head and threatened the person she loved with an unfair ultimatum."

"Mercedes..."

"Please let me finish, Sam," she insisted, halting his protests. "It's not guilt that kept me here. It's not fear, either. I care about our relationship as much as I care about a once in a lifetime career making meeting with the Simmons family. You mean as much to me as any life changing decision. You_ are _my life changing decision. I'm not putting you second any more. I've chosen. I choose you, Sam, because my future involves you too. I've invested tons of time and energy into my music. I don't want to let the chance to invest in our relationship pass me by again."

He merely watched her as she leaned in to kiss him. When their lips touched, he fell for her magic, closing his eyes and kissing her back until the kaleidoscope of colors bursted like fireworks in the darkness. With a soft hum, she pulled away, wiping the last of her lip gloss off of his lips.

"You know, my mango lip gloss tastes awesome mixed with your cherry chap stick," she mused aloud, fingers lingering along his bristled chin. "Maybe we should kiss other places and see if it tastes better anywhere else."

Her naughty smile triggered his, and he watched her slide into the back of the limo and lay herself down on the seats. Her words had filled him with an indescribable joy. _I'm her first choice. She chose me._

"Alright, Alright." He grinned, rubbing his hands together. His silly impression brought out that laugh of hers that he loved, and he swiftly climbed in to crawl on top of her. The toe of his dress shoe closed the door behind him, and a steady stream of impersonated celebrity voices and smacking lips followed her joyous cackles as they sped off to their hotel room.

**O-O**

Thankfully, when they'd finally arrived at the hotel, the teenagers were dressed and put together enough to exit their ride.

"Do you guys want me to come back in the morning?" the driver asked them, calling from his window.

The couple had already begun to run off hand in hand to the hotel door, laughing to themselves, when Sam turned back and replied, "Maybe a little later than that, man. Is seven in the evening okay? That should give us enough time."

"Sam!" Mercedes cried, smacking his chest. "We really, really need to work on your filter."

Sam tilted his head to the side and bit his lip, frowning as if he didn't understand. "Filter?"

Mercedes playfully rolled her eyes at him and addressed the driver herself. "We'll call you in the morning when we're ready. Is that okay?"

"Sure, sure." The driver nodded, waving them away. "Go have fun, you crazy kids."

The older man watched the two teens walk into the run-down motel lobby and skeptically eyed the building. "Morning? I'll give them twenty minutes." He frowned. "This place looks shadier than a solar eclipse. Ah man...to be that young, broke, and in love again."

Thoughts of early romance reminded him of his loving wife, lying at home in their bed after a long day of caring for their two daughters. It would be five wonderful years of marriage for them this month. Five blissful years of blissful I love you's shared between them, starting from the very first day they met to their anniversary this Saturday.

"Crap! Today's Saturday!" He quickly searched his pockets and tore through every storage compartment in the car until he found his cell phone. Scarily enough, it began to ring as soon as it was in his hands, with the object of his thoughts showing up on the caller ID.

"Jenny! Baby!" he cheerily answered, starting the car engine. "Baby, of _course_ I didn't forget about our anniversary! You don't think I've learned my lesson after the first four times? Honey, give me some credit!" The driver sped off to the highway, hoping he could make the thirty minute drive to his house in fifteen. His duties as prom chauffeur were long forgotten.

**O-O**

"Excuse me, Sir. My girlfriend and I have a room on reserve?"

"Yes, we already have the key. It's room 304, I think. It's under the name Jones-Evans."

Sam looked at Mercedes, pleasantly surprised. "Jones-Evans?" He grinned, pulling her into his arms.

"Shut up, I just told them that because the room was for both of us. Don't let it go to your head." She smiled back, a bit embarrassed at being caught.

"Mmhmm." He kissed her temple and released her, keeping the rest of his thoughts to himself. They both knew the name she'd chosen for the reservation meant more than she claimed it did, and that was all that mattered.

The concierge's fingers rapidly typed on the keyboard, searching for their room. "Ah yes, room 304. That's the economy suite." He glanced up at the eager, smiling teenagers. "_Naturally."_

Their smiles fell at his sass. "Let me see if I can find your reservation. One moment." He spent some time typing and searching, until a beep of error halted him.

"Ah, it seems that your reservation has been cancelled. It was refunded to Ms. Jones's card yesterday evening. The room has been booked."

"What? That's impossible! I never cancelled the reservation." Mercedes insisted. "That has to be wrong."

"Well, if you insist, I'll check again." The concierge typed in a few more characters, but the same error beep rang again. "I'm sorry, Ms. Jones. Our records don't lie. See here." He turned his computer screen around to show the couple their hotel account. "It was cancelled and refunded yesterday afternoon, around two-thirty. The hotel key was returned in person."

"But that's impossible, I have the key right here in my wallet." Sam pulled the brown leather pouch out of the inner pocket of his tux. Mercedes had to smirk at the horseshoe and cowboy hat emblem sewn on the front flap.

"A cowboy wallet, babe?" She grinned, playfully elbowing his side.

Sam's ears turned pink. "I'm from Tennessee." He lamely replied, chuckling in embarrassment. The conversation they'd had at prom about cowboys and all night rides had been an ironic coincidence.

"Mmhmm." she replied, looking away. The blush spread to his cheeks.

"Crap." Sam pulled out all of the cards from his wallet and set them on the counter. He opened every flap, but the hotel key was nowhere to be found. "I must have left it in my old wallet. Shit, I'm so sorry baby."

"Sam, really?" sighed Mercedes, shaking her head. Reluctantly, she pulled out her own sparkly purple wallet and searched for her credit card. "Look, can we just buy another room, sir?"

"I'm sorry, but all of our rooms are full. We don't have anything to give you."

"Nothing at _all?" _ She asked forlornly. "Sir, this is a really special night for my boyfriend and me. Could you check again? There has to be something available."

It was the concierge's fifth working night in a row, and he was already frustrated from the rowdy set of prom couples he'd rented rooms to at the beginning of his shift, but this couple seemed a bit more mature than the rest and adorably in love. Exhausted as he was, he began the fruitless search for an empty room, hoping for their sake and his that something would open up. Sadly, luck wasn't on their side.

"This is insane." Sam groaned. "We didn't cancel our reservation! Is there a manager or someone we can talk to about this?"

The concierge sighed in relief at Sam's request. The one great thing about working under someone else was the privilege of passing on larger issues to please a disgruntled customer. Working out problems with reservations went beyond his pay grade and, if he were completely honest, his remaining sanity. "Surely, sir. I'll be right back."

Mercedes and Sam talked amongst themselves as he walked away. "Baby, how could you forget our hotel key at home? You knew how important this was! Now, we might have to call the limo and go back home, and you _know_ that nothing's happening at my house," she whispered, irritated.

"I said I'm sorry, Mercedes! It was a mistake! Look, maybe we can just go to my house and get the card so we can get our room back," he offered. Mercedes gave him a look and pointed to the computer screen, underlining the word "OCCUPIED" with her finger. "Oh, right. There's that."

"Yeah." Instead of arguing, Mercedes decided to be proactive and contain her anger in favor of reasonable thought. "Maybe we can go to another hotel?" she wondered aloud. "Oh, but they're probably as booked up as this one. It is kind of busy on this side of Lima." She started to pace, wracking her brain for another solution. The concierge's earlier words rang in her ears, and suddenly, something struck her as odd. "Wait a minute, didn't he say that the hotel key was returned yesterday evening in _person?" _

"Yeah...you know what, he did!" Sam confirmed, pacing the opposite way. "But, who else would have the card to return it? It was always with me."

"The only other person I can think of is Sugar, but she said that she returned it to you on the bus. It couldn't be her," Mercedes surmised, shaking her head.

"Wait, Sugar? Sugar never had my hotel key." Sam said. The two paused and turned to face each other. "How would she get it?"

"She told me that the key fell out of your pocket and she returned it to you. Didn't she?" Mercedes asked in confusion, not knowing her friend to be a liar. "Why would she keep it?"

"I swear to you, Sugar didn't give me anything." Sam insisted. "I thought Joe was the one who told her about tonight and the hotel room. Why would she lie?"

"And why would she return the card and cancel our reservation? That's not like her at all." wondered Mercedes. "Is she jealous?"

"And how may I help you fine guests this evening?" All three pairs of eyes met at the exact same time, widened in shock. "Sam? Mercedes? Is that you?"

"Richard!" Mercedes exclaimed, unusually relieved to see the maitre'd turned funnel cake stand cashier greet her at the desk. "You work here now?"

"Hey, aren't you the guy from the carnival?" Sam asked, recognizing his face and laughing to himself. "How many jobs do you have, man?"

"What are you two lovebirds doing here? I thought for sure that you'd be out with friends, dancing the night away." Richard asked, taking Mercedes hand in his and kissing it in greeting. "How can I help you?"

"Well Richard, Sam and I reserved a room here, but your concierge checked the system and told us that our room had been given away. He said that someone came in, returned our key, and asked for a refund. Can you help us?" She pulled Sam close and rested her head on his shoulder, pouting to seal the deal. "We just wanted to spend a romantic evening together. You'd do anything for love, wouldn't you?"

Sam caught on quickly and leaned his head against hers, pouting with her. "Please, Richard? Can't you help two lovebirids out?" he pleaded.

"Well..." Richard wrung his hands, falling prey to their charms. "I only became manager last week! I can't just manipulate the system to help you. As much as I would love to give you a room, I can't just kick someone out and..."

"We're not asking you to do that! We just want you to check again and _make sure _that there aren't any empty rooms left. Please?" Her sad doe eyes broke Richard's delicate heart.

"We'll remember this night for the rest of our lives. This could be our forever memory," Sam added, hoping to persuade him. "Please sir, we have nowhere else to go."

"Alright, Alright!" his shrill English voice cried. "I can't stand to see true love tainted by circumstance. I'll check again for you."

Mercedes smiled in victory. "Thank you, Richard," she sang.

"I better be a guest of honor at your wedding if this works out, that's all I'm saying," he threatened. The concierge stepped aside and let his boss work his magic on their computer system. "Now, what room was your old room?"

"304, sir," Sam reiterated.

"304? Why does that number ring a bell to me?" Richard pulled up their account and grinned like mad. "Oh that's right!" The group grew concerned when the older man started clapping and dancing in circles. "Of course, of course, of course!"

"Is it something good?" Mercedes asked excitedly, finding his elation contagious. "Is our room open?"

"No better! It's been refunded completely!" His answer baffled them all. "No, no! You don't understand! It's grand!" Richard suddenly grew cross and swatted his employee's shoulder. "Do you see this note? Did you even read it?!" he asked, poking the screen. "Why do I bother typing notes if no one takes the time to read them, hmm?"

The concierge's furrowed brow relaxed as he read, confusion cloaked in shame. "Oh, I didn't notice that, sir."

"Oh, you didn't notice. Well, isn't that convenient and helpful!" Richard mocked, swatting him away. "Go on. I've got this covered." The other gentleman, who appeared to be around the same age as his boss, moped away like a sullen toddler.

"Well, it appears that you two have a fairy godmother granting your wishes tonight."

The couple glanced at each other. "What do you mean?"

"Well Mercedes, a petite brunette girl with the loveliest smile came to me yesterday and handed in your hotel key, along with a note. I didn't recognize your name right away, but I suspected that she wasn't the owner of the card. Nothing about her suggested she was a Jones or an Evans." Richard scoffed at her attempt to trick him. "She looked more like a Lebowitz or Steinberg with that nose..."

"Wait, was this girl really bubbly? About my height? Hair more of a lighter brown?"

"Did she look like she had a ton of dough?" Sam added. Mercedes sucked her teeth at him. "What? Sugar always looks loaded."

"Ah yes! That was her name!" Richard exclaimed. "Lovely thing. She asked me to hand you two a note when you arrived here. Wait, let me get it."

He moved to a small antique looking drawer behind him, fishing out a leaf of bright pink, scented stationary paper from the sea of yellow post it notes. Sam took it from him, and he and Mercedes curiously leaned in to get a proper sniff.

"That's Chanel." Mercedes declared, whiffing a second time to be sure. Her nod confirmed it. "That's definitely what that is."

"This has Sugar written all over it," Sam confirmed, smirking at the glittery film left on his hands. "Did she say why?"

"She told me to tell you that it's all in the note, complete with an address and telephone number," nodded Richard. "I left a note on our system, telling anyone who might be here to call me when you came. I was the only one that knew of the arrangement."

The address part really caught their attention. As Sam opened the note, Mercedes asked Richard, "Is it a good surprise?"

"Oh, the very best! Not that I read the note or anything," he replied, smiling cheekily. "Just go on and enjoy. The magic doesn't stay for long!"

Mercedes leaned her head on Sam's arm and read Sugar's elaborate cursive handwriting alongside him.

**Hey guys, **

**Okay, so don't get mad at me, but I went to go see the room you guys wanted to have your special night in, and I wanted to vomit and burst into flames. Seriously, it was so one out of five stars, and that's being generous! I couldn't let two people I care about go out like that, especially after all you guys have been through. You guys deserve a space with more room that doesn't have crusted semen stains on the sheets and smell like cigarettes. **

**That's why I had the manager refund your money, so I could treat you guys on my terms! Mercedes, you are going to have the ambiance you deserve to replace the old memories. And Sam, you'll get everything you've ever dreamed of giving the true love of your life. **

**Tell your driver to go to the address on the card. It's on a remote part of the Motta estate. Don't worry, I told our gate keeper that you guys were coming, so you shouldn't have any problems. When you get inside, your present will be in the lake! I hope you brought water proof shoes! **

**Xoxoxoxo, **

**Sugar Motta**

**A.K.A The fairy godmother to your Cinderella and Prince charming**

"Wow...Sugar..." Mercedes said in wonder, overwhelmed by her friend's kindness. "This is the sweetest thing that anyone has done for us."

"I know," Sam answered, reading it over in disbelief. "What do you think she meant by the waterproof shoes part?"

Mercedes smiled at him. "We can find out when we get there, right?"

Sam smiled back and took her hand. "Then let's go, princess," he said softly, kissing her knuckle. The couple sprinted to the door.

"Thanks again, Richard!" she called back as she ran. "Oh wait! Sam, what about the driver?"

Sam halted and pulled out his phone, hastily dialing his number. He frowned when his call went straight to voicemail. "No answer."

"Here." Richard ran up and dropped a car key in Sam's hand. "My Aston Martin has a navigation system built in. I parked it out front. Just type in the address."

"Are you sure? You've been more than helpful tonight. We don't want to put you out of your way." Sam hesitated, holding the car key out in his palm.

"Nonsense! I consider it an investment," answered Richard, closing Sam's fingers and pushing his hand back toward him. "Now hurry, before the night escapes you!" He pushed the two grinning teens through the door and sighed as they ran hand in hand to his blue car out front.

"Love is a many splendid thing indeed," he whispered to himself, longing for the twinkle he'd seen in their eyes.

**O-O**

"The navigation system says that we're only five minutes away."

"Wow, I didn't realize Sugar had so much land. Who knew the Motta estate was so big?"

Mercedes watched the scenery outside her window speed by as they drove, admiring the forest of mile-high oak littered ever so often with silver streetlights donning flags with the Motta name. The metal poles appeared at home in their surroundings, springing from the ground as naturally as any of the wooden trunks behind them. _The old and new can exist together_, she thought, _the past and the present. _The view felt strangely introspective.

"What are you thinking, sweetheart?"

Mercedes left her thoughts to look into her boyfriend's smiling green eyes. He reached over to lay his hand atop hers near the armrest and gently squeezed her fingers. The way his hand curled around hers, cloaking her small fist, gave her butterflies.

"I'm thinking that I love you." She smiled, turning her palm over to slide her fingers between his. "And that I'm very blessed."

"Mmm." Sam turned his attention back to the road, but his smile never left. "And what made you suddenly think that?" he asked, biting his lip. "It couldn't have anything to do with the amazing time you had a prom with a certain sexy blonde prom date, could it?"

Mercedes giggled at his silliness. "Maybe," she teased. "He did give the most amazing kisses." She sighed in want, biting her finger. "Mmm, those lips..."

It was Sam's turn to look out the window, more to hide his blush than admire the scenery.

"Are you blushing, Sam?" she teased, brushing his knuckle with her thumb. "It's not that dark. I can still tell."

He gave a quick chuckle, saying nothing. When he didn't answer, Mercedes leaned over and surprised him with a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. The action nearly made him swerve off the road.

"Jesus, Mercedes!" he laughed, righting the wheel. "Can you give me some warning before you lay one on me?"

"Nope!" she grinned, wrinkling her nose. "Surprises are fun!"

"Until they kill us!" he laughed. "But as long as I'm with you..."

Mercedes expected him to finish, but when he looked at her and smiled again, she realized that his thought was complete.

"As long as I'm with you," she tenderly repeated, bringing his hand to her lap. He gently squeezed her hand again and brought their joined hands up to kiss her plump wrist. She sighed happily at the touch of his lips, then moaned and trembled when he gently suckled the flesh near her pulse.

"How far away are we?" she asked desperately, licking her lips. He hummed against her skin, licking a small trail up her wrist and slowly blowing his warm breath across the dampened flesh.

_Destination on the right in point two miles. You have arrived._

"We're here," he whispered, kissing each of her fingers as he turned into the curved driveway. His voice and lips made her warm all over. Unconsciously, her thighs rubbed together and crossed, keeping the surge of pleasure near her center as contained as possible. Sam noticed and reached down to touch her calves, running his fingers up her legs to swirl around her knees. When he moved higher, Mercedes held her breath, then exhaled in a whimper when he crept between her dress split and kneaded the heated skin of her inner thighs. Her legs uncrossed, and his hand moved into the new space to palm her.

"No more hiding this when we get inside," he quietly commanded, tensing his jaw when her clit throbbed against his middle finger. One shift of her underwear, one slide of the very same finger, and he'd be inside her heat. Mercedes must have sensed his longing to touch her more deeply, because her hips thrust forward and circled at that very moment, rubbing her sex against his exploring fingers. The small nub hardened, and Sam couldn't resist sliding it between his fingers.

"No more hiding. Okay." She answered just as quietly, breathing harder than before. They both leaned in at the same time and met in a kiss, taking out all of their sexual frustrations on each other's mouths. The rough clashing and biting of their lips were the perfect contrast to the slow, sensual rub of his fingers and circling of her pelvis. When the fire between them became too great, they reluctantly released each other and pulled apart, settling in their seats to keep distance between them. One more kiss would have been their undoing, and they were steadily approaching the Motta estate gates, guarded by three security men. Voyeurism normally excited them, but this night was too special to begin in the presence of others.

Sam pulled up and wound his window down to talk to the guard.

"Can I help you, sir?" The grey-haired gentleman asked, flashing his pen light into the car. The teens greeted him with smiles.

"Hi, my name's Sam. This is my girlfriend, Mercedes." Sam took her hand and held it up between them. "We're friends with Sugar. She told us to come here and give you guys this." Sam sifted through the envelope she'd left them and pulled out a plastic tag, etched with the Motta crest.

The guard handed the tag off to his colleagues behind him. "Scan it in the system," he instructed. The older man tucked his light away and leaned in, smiling kindly at the teenagers.

"Ms. Motta told us you were coming. She said you two were her special friends."

"Well, that's nice," Mercedes said with a smile. "She's our special friend, too."

"Yeah, I figured. Mr. Motta doesn't let just anybody use his yacht. She must have pleaded to the high heavens on your behalf. Yep, wrapped him good and tight around that pinky, I reckon."

"We get to use a yacht?" Sam asked in surprise. "Really?"

"Wow, this is way better than anything we planned!" chuckled Mercedes. "How fancy! So impressive."

"Yeah..." Sam smiled, but the joy failed to reach his eyes. He knew he should have been grateful. Part of him was. But the idea of Sugar's yacht made him feel like he did when the patrons at Stallionz threw dollars his way. He had to perform lap dances and let them touch him for the higher bills, work a little harder to earn his worth. He'd always had to put in twice the effort to measure up to everyone else. It took Sam weeks of begging his friends and scraping money together to make this night special, and Sugar only had to snap her fingers to bring something ten times better to the table. Mercedes deserved yachts, but he was a dollar bill man, laboring for the fives and tens that would prove he was enough.

The older guard had left them in the midst of Sam's thoughts to go through some security protocol. Mercedes noticed Sam's far off look and kissed his hand, rubbing his hairy knuckles lovingly against her lips until he looked at her.

"I can't wait to be with you, Sam." She told him, hugging his shoulders and kissing his cheek. When he didn't answer, Mercedes rested her chin on his shoulder and stared at him. "Just you and me together. That's all I want."

"I wish I could've given this to you." blurted Sam. He looked down, avoiding her concerned eyes. "Sugar's so nice to give us this, but I wish that I...I wish that I had enough...that I was enough..."

"Stop it. Right now." Mercedes demanded, kissing him hard until the force pushed him back. When they parted, Mercedes hovered over him, and her dark wavy tendrils tumbled over her shoulder to tickle his cheek. "We can turn around right now, find some little dark corner, and park our car. We can bury ourselves in blankets, lean the seats back, and have each other however we want. I don't care where we are. I don't care about yachts. Screw yachts. I want you. Tonight's special because it's you and me. Right, baby?" She kissed him again, softer than the first time. "Don't leave me now because of this."

"I'd never leave." he replied, still reeling from the kiss. "I'm here."

She pressed her palm to his forehead and kissed the back of her hand. "Then, no more hiding this when we get inside," she demanded, tapping above his brow. He nodded as she pushed back his bangs, then closed his eyes when she kissed his bare skin.

His eyes softened as they opened, moved by her gesture. "Okay," he meekly replied, gazing into her eyes.

"Good." She smiled, moving back to her seat when she spotted the security guard returning to their car. "So, what should we tell them? Are we going?"

"Yeah." The crinkles around his eyes when he grinned warmed Mercedes in ways that caresses between her legs never could. "We deserve this, Princess."

Mercedes had almost forgotten about the prom queen crown on her head until he'd reached out to take it off. He twirled a stray strand of hair back in place, tucking it behind her ear.

"I can't wait to see what you look like without all the jewels," he told her. "Underneath the makeup and the curled hair...completely naked."

She looked down at her lap, suddenly bashful. "It won't be long. They're opening the gates now."

In truth, the gates creaked open at that very moment, but they couldn't enter until the grey haired guard had a chance to lay down some ground rules.

"Now, your pass is good for twenty-four hours. In that time frame, you are not allowed to leave the premises without informing security. Ms. Motta is hosting an after party on the other side of the estate. If you wish to attend, one of us will happily escort you over. If not, Ms. Motta and several of her friends will meet over by the lake in the morning, where the yacht is docked. You are welcome to meet up with them there without security consent. There are two phones on the boat, one red one for emergencies and another yellow one for all other calls. We can be reached directly by either phone. Any questions?" The couple glanced at each other and shook their heads. "Well my name's Bill, and on behalf of Mr. Motta and Ms. Sugar, welcome to the Motta estates. We do hope that you enjoy your stay."

A newly excited Sam rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He looked over to his girl, who grinned ear to ear at the newly opened path in front of them, and shifted out of park to drive on. She reached for his right hand and cupped it in hers, refusing to let go until the shimmering waters of the lake came into view.

**O-O**

The ornate boat looked like the perfect backdrop to any Fortune 500 magazine. Thirty feet of pristine architecture divided into three levels of gold and white polished metals, wrapped in smooth railing encrusted with tiny, shimmering stones. If elegance needed a picture, the Motta yacht would effortlessly fit the description, all bright light and large bodied in the small moonlit pool of water. Fittingly enough, the Motta name was emblazoned near the stern in elaborate gold cursive, right above their royal blue and burgundy coat of arms.

"Did they fly this thing out here or...?" Sam asked in wonder, awed at the size of it. He'd never seen an actual yacht up close. "How in the world?"

"I think they might've built the rest of the lake around it," Mercedes joked, taking his hand and guiding him up the ramp. "Let's go inside. I bet it's even more gorgeous."

And gorgeous it was, covered from end to end in chocolate Persian rugs and caramel fabrics. To their left was their fluffy oversized king bed, dressed in milk white sheets cross-stitched with golden thread. The mass of square and rectangular pillows decorating the headboard all bore tiny M initials, imprinted Coach brand style on the cases. Its rustic oak bed frame sat between two night tables of the same wood, and all of the lush carpeting around it was covered in red rose petals. In front of them stood double full length windows, displaying a perfect view of the sparkling lake and full moon. The tasseled paisley curtains were swooped to the side for presentation purposes, but the twisted ropes tied around them made it easy to provide privacy with just a quick pull of the knot. To their right stood the antique dresser. Its surface spanned the width of the bed in front of it, as did the mirror perched atop, providing a full scale view of all of the bedroom's activities. Sam quickly pointed out the fact that the ceiling held a mirror as well.

"We could have fun with that," he whispered in her ear, gently squeezing her hips. She wrinkled her nose in a grin and swatted his touches away to inspect the bathroom.

"Sam! You've got to see this!" Sam went in behind her and found Mercedes sitting in an empty oval Jacuzzi. "Isn't it huge?" She grinned, wriggling around in delight against the porcelain. "It's perfect for two people."

"Is that an invitation?" Sam tutted her. "Don't tempt me. I've got plans for you first."

"But, baby..." Mercedes pouted adorably, whining in that little voice that he couldn't resist. "I want you inside with me."

"Mercedes..." She kicked off her shoes and ran her soles against the textured bottom of the tub, playing up her moan of ecstasy. "You're not fair."

"Who said anything about fair? I get what I want, Sammy." She smiled seductively, eyeing his body up and down through hooded lids. "Say you don't want to forget about your plans and hop in with me."

"Nice try, woman. But you're gonna have the romantic evening of your life whether you like it or not!" he dramatically exclaimed. "There's gonna be love! So much love, you're gonna drown in it!"

Mercedes cackled at his dramatic turn as he stomped away. "Sammy! Come back!" she cried out, in her best desperate damsel voice. "Don't leave me!"

"DROWN IN IT!" he cried from the other room, pointing a stern finger from the doorway across from her. Mercedes rolled her eyes at his silliness.

"Silly boy," she muttered, laughing to herself. Her eyes drifted to the double marble sink, catching the sparkling pink envelope perched against the faucet with her name on the front. "Sugar, what are you up to now?"

Mercedes hopped out of the tub to pick up her envelope. She smiled when she found purple paper inside, scented with vanilla and lavender. Sugar knew that they were two of her favorite scents.

**Hey Diva!**

**I didn't want Sam seeing this little note, so I left it just for you! I told Santana about the whole boat idea (which I hope you're loving) and she told me that you had all of your sexy clothes in the back of the limo. I put them in the closet beside the bed. And don't worry, I didn't peek. But if it did happen to fall out of the bag on accident, I just wanna say that I would totally lay the white one on him first. Not that I'm butting in or anything. **

**Love ya!**

**Xoxoxoxo,**

**Sugar**

**P.S. Erin told me to tell you not to worry and that everything is going to be just fine. I think so, too. Not that I told her about the yacht or anything...**

"Sugar and Erin." Mercedes sighed at the kind, albeit nosy, gesture. "Thank you. I wish I felt the same."

All of her shameless flirting with Sam had done little to calm her nerves. Her stomach had been quivering since they'd left the limo. What if it didn't go well? It had been months since they'd gone this far. When she performed a song for glee that she felt unsure about, she usually went with the general rule of 'louder, stronger, better'. Sound could cover-up her insecurities.

But making love wasn't meant to cover anything. It was all about openness and intimacy. What if she opened up so much that all of her demons were exposed? What if they haunted her night like they'd haunted her dreams?

"No what-ifs tonight, Mercedes. Think about what could be." She faced her reflection in the mirror, teased her hair, and smiled encouragingly. "He loves you so much and you love him back. It's gonna be just fine. Don't over think this."

"Don't over think what?" Sam waltzed in and stood behind her, hugging her waist and smiling at their reflection. Mercedes touched the sparkling green envelope in his hand and knowingly held up hers.

"I see Sugar left you a kind note, too, huh?" he smiled, tossing his letter on the counter.

"Yep." Mercedes answered, tossing hers behind his. She leaned back against him and caressed his hands on her stomach. "Sam, can I tell you something?"

"Anything." She closed her eyes when he kissed her cheek. "Tell me."

"I'm nervous." When he didn't respond, her eyes opened, and she turned around to face him.

"Me too," he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Really?" His confession relieved her.

"Yeah! I mean, Mercedes, this is a big deal for you. I want this night to be perfect. I planned things, but it doesn't feel like it's enough," he told her. "It's just a lot of..."

"Pressure?" Mercedes supplied, understanding completely. "Exactly. Only we're the ones putting it on ourselves. What's wrong with us, Sam?"

"We care too much, I guess." He chuckled, pulling her closer. "Look, I'll tell you what. Why don't I prepare a bath in that tub you love so much, with big bubbles and sparkling cider and candles..."

"Oh, that sounds nice." Mercedes grinned, pressing herself against him.

"And I'll go in the other room to take my shower. There's another bathroom down the hall. We'll relax and take some time for ourselves, and when we're done, we can meet up in the bedroom. Sugar brought all my stuff over, so I can give you that massage I've been thinking about." Sam told her, wrapping his arms around her shorter frame.

"And I'll get to put on that little lace number in that tiny bag I wouldn't let you look in last weekend." Mercedes whispered. Sam bent his head to kiss her lips.

"And then, if something happens, we let it happen. If not, we can just fool around like we always do and talk until the sun comes up. We can even sing all night if you want. I honestly don't care. I just want time with you, by ourselves," he told her.

Mercedes hummed and kissed him again, squeezing down his biceps. "That sounds perfect. I just want you, too." She said adoringly. "Has anyone ever told you that you are hella sexy when you're honest?"

"Well, there was this one fine ass woman..." They smiled at each other, leaning in until their foreheads pressed together. "I love you. Go outside and wait for me to get everything ready."

"I love you, too. I'll go take off my clothes." He pulled her back before she could step away. "What?"

"Turn for me?" He held her arm up and whistled when she slowly spun for him. "Mmph. Just wanted something to remember while I'm in the shower."

"Sam!" Her cheeks burned. "I don't need you to turn for me. I couldn't forget that body if I tried."

His reddened face betrayed his suave smile. "Is that right?" Mercedes answered by sauntering out of the bathroom, wiggling her assets with every swing of her hips. "Damn."

When she left, Sam turned on the faucet and regulated the water, checking the temperature to make sure it was perfect. When it was bearably hot, he plugged the drain and sat on the side of the tub to watch the water run. The rushing sound soothed him, and the small wait gave him time to think.

He didn't deserve her. He'd never felt like he deserved her. Dr. Taylor had been working on his perception of perfection in therapy since day one, from his body insecurities to his stripper days in Kentucky and the impact of Donovan's attack. Mercedes's name came up all the time, and his therapist would always ask him the same questions about her.

_What if you can't be what you want to be for her? What do you think would happen if you failed? And why do believe that her reactions to your perceived failures define you as a person? Did she call you a monster, or did you already believe that about yourself?_

Was it true? Was he just a self-fulfilling prophecy?

"Man." All this thinking was giving him a headache. "God bless philosophers. I couldn't do this every day."

All that mattered now was Mercedes and her special night. Screw Dr. Taylor and his psychology. He would make this night a night to remember for her, no matter what it took. He would pamper her and love on her until she was convinced that he was Mr. Right, despite all his shortcomings. And when Sam remembered the little surprises waiting in the closet for his woman, he knew that it wouldn't take much. Knowing what she loved had its advantages.

**O-O**

Mercedes changed out of her gown and into her robe, sitting patiently on the bed as Sam finished preparing her bath. She watched him flitter between the closet and the bathroom on his toes like a thief, carrying bag after bag of things with him. She could identify the bottle of cider tied up in a plastic bag and a small zippered purse with bottles of scented bubble bath and lotion, but the small blue and white cooler and large brown paper bag left her wondering.

Sam sensed her curiosity and paused in front of her with the items in hand, winking. "You'll find out soon enough." He smiled, continuing on to the bathroom. She bounced anxiously in her seat.

After a small while of noises and clanging sounds, Sam finally opened the door and beckoned her over. He met her halfway and took her hand, covering her eyes with the other.

"Don't peek," he whispered behind her, letting go of her hand to gently press against the small of her back and guide her forward. Sam pretended not to notice her small tremble. If he paid it too much attention, he'd end up leading her back to their bed.

"Can I open my eyes now?" she asked softly, as soon as she'd realized that they had stopped walking. Sam carefully pulled her robe away from her shoulder, and Mercedes had to hold her breath to contain herself when he kissed the sensitive skin there.

"Open up," He whispered, kissing her neck as well. Sam removed his hand from her eyes on her sigh, then sighed himself as he watched her face transform. Mercedes marveled at the sight of his handiwork.

"It's like a novel." She said in awe, surveying the details of the room. Soft flame-less candles surrounded every surface of the bathroom, flickering like real dancing embers in the dark. The tub was filled to the brim with foam and bubbles, and an inviting trail of steam rose from the surface and gathered in the air above like a halo. Sam had snuck in a metal bucket filled with ice for the cider bottle, and he quickly sauntered over to pop the cork and pour her a glass in a plastic flute.

"Sorry I couldn't get the real ones for you." He apologized, offering her the humble drinking glass. "It's all I could afford."

"It's perfect, baby." Overwhelmed with joy, she sprung up and kissed his cheek. "You're perfect. Thank you for this."

"Enjoy it. That will be thanks enough." he humbly answered. She grabbed his arm as he moved to walk away.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" she asked quietly, eyes pleading. "I'd really like it if you stayed with me."

He rubbed her shoulders and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead. "I think you'd love it better if we waited after your bath." He smiled, tapping her nose. "Although the offer is mighty tempting."

"Then I guess I shouldn't change your mind by taking off my robe, huh?" she laughed lightly. Sam groaned at her offer.

"_Please _keep your robe on," he begged. She laughed harder at his pleading.

"Okay, I'll play nice." She relented, pecking his lips. "Just do me a favor?"

"Yeah?" He swallowed hard when she unbuttoned his collar and caressed his bare chest.

"When I come out for that massage, you'd better be naked and in your robe, too." Her pointer finger ran up his neck to lift his chin, and she leaned in to kiss the bulge of his Adam's apple.

"Alright!" he squeaked, stepping away and clearing his throat. "I'm gonna just...go take a cold shower now."

Mercedes sweetly waved him off as he walked to the door.

"Bye, Sam," she sang, blowing him a kiss. Sam chuckled and shook her head.

"Temptress," he muttered under his breath, sipping from his glass as he closed the door behind him. She giggled unapologetically in his wake.

"Now, where do we start, Mercedes?" she asked herself aloud, downing her glass and setting it down on the counter as she figured out her next move. "Well, I guess I should take advantage of the water before it gets cold. Naked it is!"

"That's a great choice!"

"Go shower, Sam!" Mercedes yelled back, laughing at how close his voice sounded to the door. "And stop eavesdropping!"

"You started it!" he argued back, knocking the door twice. "It's your fault!"

Mercedes just rolled her eyes and disrobed. She took a moment to inspect her body in the mirror, tracing her fingers over her scars. A sigh of regret left her as she touched the largest one over her stomach. It hadn't faded much. The edges were still dark and its surface was still uneven.

"You look beautiful." Mercedes smiled at her reflection, then turned to smile at the door and the kind voice that stood behind it.

"Thank you, Sam. But you can't see me."

"Yeah, I can. You let me," he replied. And though she couldn't see him, she knew that his hand was pressed against the door, longing to touch her the way his words attempted to touch her heart. "You're beautiful."

He sounded so sincere, so pure in his compliment, that Mercedes had to squint and take a second look at herself through his eyes. And when she did, remembering every place he'd kissed and touched on her body, a small tear escaped her. She _was _beautiful, wasn't she?

"Yeah." She nodded, turning to admire her curves in full view. Her prom dress shopping and therapy sessions had really helped to rebuild her self-confidence, but Sam's words served to solidify all of the hard work in her heart. A sudden giggle erupted from her, so loudly that she had to catch it with her hands. Her muffled giggles continued, and try as they might Mercedes's short fingers couldn't contain them. So she allowed herself to laugh out loud for no reason, then gave herself permission to cry at the same time, and never dared to ponder the reason why. It felt good to feel without overthinking, to find safety in a compliment again.

"Yeah." She smiled, giggles dying down with her tears. "I am gorgeous."

"Yeah," Sam confirmed, leaning his head against the door with a smile of his own. They were separate, but he'd felt closer to her somehow in that moment. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew that it was good and that it mattered. They were a step closer to something healing. He'd said the right thing at the right time. "Hop in the tub after you're done admiring yourself. I've got a surprise for you after my shower, okay? I'll be quick."

Mercedes dipped her right leg in the water, hissing in pleasure from the heat around her weary muscles. Prom had been deliciously exhausting on her calves. "Okay! I'm getting in now."

**O-O**

After twenty minutes of soaking and soft jazz (courtesy of Sam's iPod and speaker dock), Mercedes heard his tell-tale knock at the door. She closed her eyes and spelled out each letter of his morse code knock in her mind. _I-L-U-V-U. _

" Come in, Sam," she said contentedly, sinking deeper into her bubbles. "I'm nice and relaxed now."

He nudged the door open with a hand over his eyes, holding out a covered silver tray. "I'm only coming in if you promise to still be naked!" He declared.

"I'm naked! I'm naked! Come in!" she laughed, tossing a hand towel and hitting his arm. Sam barely caught his balance and kept the tray steady.

"Whoa, okay! No need for violence!" He laughed, strolling in wearing a white bathrobe. His hair and exposed chest were still damp from his shower.

Mercedes eyed the tray with wonder, anxious to see what was underneath the cover. "What's this? Is this for me?"

"Yep! Ta-da!" Sam lifted the cover with flourish and waved the small delicacies under her nose. "A dozen freshly dipped white chocolate strawberries from your freshly showered white chocolate boyfriend." His fake French accent made her giggle.

"Yay!" she clapped, reaching for the largest berry in the center. "These look so delicious!" Mercedes took a large bite and moaned, licking away the drizzle of sweet juice that dribbled down the corner of her lip. "They're so sweet! Thank you!"

Sam's eyebrows rose as he watched her devour the rest of fruit and lick her fingers clean of the melted chocolate remains. She caught his gaze mid-lick and sheepishly smiled.

"That wasn't my sexiest moment at all, was it?" she chuckled, covering her mouth.

"That's not why I'm staring. Trust me," he told her, smiling at her embarrassment. "I was supposed to feed them to you. You stole my thunder."

"Oh." She quietly watched him dip a strawberry into a small bowl of dark chocolate. "I always thought that was such a weird thing. Why is it romantic for a man to feed a woman? Isn't it a bit patronizing?"

"Small words, babe." Sam chuckled, tapping the berry on the corner of the tray to get rid of any excess drippings.

"It makes you feel like a child. I'm grown!" she explained. "I've been feeding myself for over seventeen years."

"You old hen! Has it been that long?" Sam teased. "Maybe I should mash this up for you before you eat it. I always did have a thing for older women."

"We are less than a year apart. Don't get fresh." Mercedes playfully sassed back, poking his nose. Despite all her arguing, Mercedes opened up and bit the fruit from Sam's hand without protest. "I mean, why do couples do this?"

"It's not about the feeding, Mercedes. It's the fact that someone else _wants _to feed you. It's that you allow them to feed you." Sam laughed when she side-eyed him. "Let me take this opportunity to school you, my little relationship virgin. Pop your intimacy cherry, if you will."

"Might as well. You did a great job popping the other one," she replied with a coy smile. His answering blush was her silent victory. "I'm listening."

"It's like making love, Mercy. Feeding you is my way of saying that you can trust my hands. I'll give you a little at a time, as slowly as you want it. We only move at your pace. I won't push you to take more than you're ready for." His hand crept closer and fed her another bite. Her eyes didn't leave his as she chewed, hanging on to his every word. "What I'm offering is safe. It's sweet. It's pleasurable."

Mercedes took his hand and fed herself another bite, catching a bit of the chocolate on his finger before he drew away.

"When I feed you, baby..." Sam took a second strawberry and dipped it again, letting the excess chocolate drip in his mouth before he shared the treat with her. "It means that I'll fill you. I won't stop until you tell me to. Just say you're hungry, tell me you want more, and I'll give you everything you need."

Mercedes whined into her next bite, devouring the fruit to its stem. Sam dropped the trash on his tray and quickly licked his fingers, hoping to taste a bit of her in the juices.

"Feed me again, Sam?" she pleaded. He already had another berry dipped and ready in his hands. He tenderly rubbed the fruit against her lips, smearing the chocolate until it melted from the warmth of her breath, and held her gaze as she drew the tip of the fruit in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it. The sight aroused him, and silently he wished that she would suckle chocolate from parts of him that were just as stiff and red and desperate for her licks.

God, she wanted to kiss him. The way he looked at her made skin tingle. Carefully, she bit the fruit as she tucked her finger under his chin, drawing his mouth closer. The remainder of the berry dropped from his hands, and they both groaned into their chocolate covered, open mouthed kiss. Mercedes nestled the morsel of sweet between their wrapped tongues, and Sam accepted her offering and allowed her to feed him, fully understanding the heart behind the gesture. He twirled the stray strands of wet hair near her nape, curling it around his ring finger as she tilted her head and pressed back against him. Her needy whimpers made his cock stiffen.

"I'm hungry, Sam," she whispered, licking the swirl of white and dark chocolates from his bottom lip. His hands blindly reached behind him for his silver tray. "Not for strawberries."

He stilled his search. Their breaths quickened at the same time, and Sam became acutely aware of how close—and how _naked—_Mercedes was.

"Bedroom?" he asked her in a breath. His tongue snuck out to lick the remaining chocolate stuck to her top lip before she could respond, and she lost her answer in a shudder. The water had grown colder, but the heat between them scorched her flesh.

"Bedroom." She nodded, following her impulse to touch his bare chest as she pecked his lips. His heartbeat pounded against her palm. "I'm going to get dressed. Get the massage oil ready, okay?"

She didn't have to ask him twice. Sam was up and out the door as soon as she'd finished uttering the words.

**O-O**

Sam realized he'd left his iPod and dock inside the bathroom only after he'd given Mercedes the privacy to dry and change.

"Baby?!"

"Yes?!" On his way to the bathroom, a white CD case wrapped in a bright red bow caught his attention, leaning against what appeared to be a stereo perched against the far wall.

"Never mind! Keep getting more gorgeous!" He cried, picking up and carefully unwrapping the delicate package.

"Okay!" she giggled. "I'm almost done."

It took a bit of experimentation with the buttons, but Sam soon got the stereo on and functioning. The small black plate for the disk ejected, and he put in the mysterious CD and turned down the volume to listen. Sam was pleasantly surprised by a saxophone-led jazz version of Robin Thicke's _Lost Without You _playing softly through the speakers in the room_. _When he turned the plastic CD case over, he realized there was another note taped to the back, written on telling sparkling stationary.

"Sugar," smiled Sam. But the handwriting didn't match any of the other notes he or Mercedes had gotten tonight.

_**Dude, **_

_**Since this your big night to finally get some, Artie and I thought that we would share some of our sexy time music to keep you and your lil' woman in the mood. But then again, staying in the mood may not be too much of an issue for you, pickle man. Hope that Mercedes sucks on more than vegetables tonight to keep you satisfied. Blue balls ain't healthy! **_

_**Get it in for the old Puckmeister! And make sure you spank dat ass! **_

_**Puck & Artie**_

Sam crumpled the note and stuffed it in his bathrobe pocket, shaking his head at his friends' bluntness. As crude as they could be, they had great hearts. Underneath it all, they meant well.

He took a quick survey of the room before his woman came out of the bathroom, just to triple check its perfection. The massage table was set up, the lights were dimmed, and the opened bottle of cider sat on a side table in a bucket of ice to keep cold, right next to his array of edible massage oils and lotions. The romantic music sealed the ambiance. All he needed now was his sexy client.

"Everything's ready, babe! What are you doing in there?" Sam walked over and snatched up a bottle of chocolate flavored massage oil, smiling at the fact that it doubled as a personal lubricant. He sampled a bit on his finger and savored the taste. They'd definitely be trying this one first. "I told you that you don't have to dress up for me. Birthday suit's always perfect."

"You sure?" Sam turned at the sound of the door closing behind him. He caught sight of her in her attire, and the chocolate lubricant squirted out of the bottle from the force of his hand.

"Oh..._wow._" The sheerest of white lace clung to her dark frame like a second skin, molding against her breasts and down the sides of her waist. Tiny ruffles on the edges of her cups blossomed from her cleavage as flowers did from rolling hills, accenting her abundant bust just as beautifully. The soft satin body of her negligée cinched her curves in all the right places, narrowing as it traveled between her thighs and covered her crotch. The high cut lengthened her legs, and the rest of her pelvis lay exposed and hairless, eager for his searching fingers. Her arms and back were hidden under the sheer sleeves of her matching robe, and Sam couldn't wait to slowly peel every inch of fabric off of her and have her trembling beneath him.

"You've said that so many times tonight. I hope that's a good thing." She laughed, bashfully ducking her head. Her shyness only made him harder. "You like it?"

Sam silently walked over to cup her cheeks and tenderly kiss her, grateful for the privilege to love such a gorgeous creature.

"Oh, it's definitely a good thing, princess." he told her in the warmest of voices. His hands snuck inside her robe and slowly slid it off her shoulders, exposing the arms he'd longed to touch. She trembled when he kissed her chin, then closed her eyes and gasped when he turned her around and pressed his body against her back. She felt Sam slide off his robe as well, letting his fall carelessly next to hers. When her eyes opened, their reflections stared back at them in the dresser mirror, and Sam's hard chest and chiseled arms came into full view from behind her.

He was naked, she knew. Mercedes caught sight of that telling dip o his pelvis that led to the hardness concealed by her body. His skin was pink tinged and peppered with dark gold hair, and she watched Sam's large hands grip her waist and knead her hip bone in the mirror. And if she'd had any doubts about what he thought of her sexy attire, Sam gently nudged the back of her thighs apart with his knee and slid his penis between them, rubbing his assuring hardness against her satin clad pussy.

"Remember our first time? When you wore those little shorts with the hearts on them and told me that you wished you had something sexier to put on?" he asked her in the mirror, softly thrusting against her. She reached back to grab his ass and rock with him, standing on her toes to match her ass to his hips. Their motions made her wet and slick.

"Y-yeah?" she panted, overwhelmed by his closeness. Sam swept her hair away and groaned into his kisses up her jaw.

"After that, I couldn't even look at another woman. Mercedes, you looked absolutely fuckable," he confessed in her ear. "And you weren't even wearing anything half as delicious as what you're wearing right now. If I couldn't resist you then, how the hell do you expect me to do anything but touch you now?" Sam pressed his nose into her neck and inhaled. "God, I can't wait to love on you."

She sunk into his embrace and allowed him to love her, growing limp in his arms as he kissed every sensitive place on her neck. "So, I guess you like it then." Their stares met in the mirror, and she smiled when he rolled his eyes.

"I'm dry humping you like a twelve year old. Hell yes, I love it," he deadpanned, continuing to move against her. "You are exactly what a woman should look like."

Mercedes bit her lip and pushed back against him. Sam buried his moan of pleasure in her wavy hair, and she pressed her thighs together more tightly to close the space between his sex and hers. As they watched the bulbous head of his cock repeatedly poke out from between her thighs in the mirror, Sam and Mercedes knew that they had to stop if they wanted to follow through with their night. But neither of them could find the willpower to say the words nor initiate the actions.

"Sam...baby, we had plans, remember? We should slow down," she breathlessly insisted. She cupped her hands around his when he squeezed her breasts, and guided his thumbs across her nipples. "We have to...mmph..."

"You sure?" Sam kissed her nape and nipped the flesh, sliding a hand back to unfasten her. With a snap of his fingers, her lingerie came loose and undone, and the loss of support made the weight of her breast fall into his awaiting palm. Mercedes caught her cups just as he was sliding the straps off of her shoulders.

"You owe me a massage, remember?" she reminded him, running her fingers through his hair. The dawning of realization on his face made her laugh.

"Shit, that's right!" he cried, smacking his forehead. "Okay, go over and lay down. I need some time to... get myself together."

Sam covered himself with his bundled robe and quickly walked away. The sight of his pale ass waddling to the bathroom only amused her more.

While he was gone, Mercedes undressed and wrapped herself in a small towel she'd found on the bed, smoothing over the fabric of the massage table to prepare to lie down. But before she could raise a knee to climb up, her cell phone rang from her bag in the closet.

"I thought that we couldn't get any signal here. Who in the world would call at this hour?" A telling sense of dread loomed about her as she narrowed down the potential list of callers in her mind. There was only one person who'd be bold enough to call at this hour, and she knew exactly why.

"What's the matter, daddy? Did your little tracking device give out on you?" she answered, voice full of sarcastic venom. "Honestly, I thought we were more mature than that."

"Don't you sass me, Mercedes Patrice Jones. You don't think I know what you're up to? Samuel told me everything. I found the bank statement in the mail." he bit back.

"Oh, so he's Samuel now that you know we're sharing a hotel room?" They were technically in a bedroom on a yacht, but Mercedes didn't feel the need to update him.

"Hell to the yes! And don't change the subject." Mr. Jones warned. "What exactly do you think you're doing, young lady? Is this some attempt to show me you're grown? Only children sneak off with their boyfriends behind their father's backs."

"Daddy, I didn't sneak off and do anything. I didn't tell you because I knew exactly how you'd react."

"Oh, really? And how's that?"

"Like you do with anything I do that you don't readily approve of. You overreact!"

"O-overreact?" Mr. Jones sputtered. "Tell me how I overreact, Mercedes."

"Putting a professional grade GPS and sensory tracking device on my _boyfriend _maybe?" sassed Mercedes.

"That's nothing! Any dad with the proper equipment and hardware would have done the same," He justified, dismissing her.

"Instead of ask their daughter? Daddy, you never talk to me and ask me anything! You take one piece of information, assume, and get carried away! You're just so..." Mercedes paused and took a calming breath before she dared to finish that sentence. "No. Daddy, I'm tired of arguing. We're adults. I want us to talk."

"_We're _adults? I only hear one adult in this conversation," answered Mr. Jones.

"And maybe that's the problem, daddy. This is about us, not what I do with Sam or what I choose as a major in college. This is about the woman I'm becoming. I need you to respect that."

"I'll respect it when you stop sneaking around!" yelled Mr. Jones.

Mercedes took another breath, refusing to raise her voice and stoop to anger. "Fair enough. I should have told you about my plans. I'm sorry. But trust is mutual, daddy. I didn't think that I could trust you with something so intimate in my life."

"You couldn't trust me?" She winced at the hurt in his voice. "Mercedes, I always tell you that you can come to me with anything at all."

"Even sex with my boyfriend?" The line grew quiet.

"Yes, even that," he replied. Mercedes smiled at his efforts and sat on the bed. She knew it took a lot of effort for her father to say that.

"Did you react this way when Jett started having sex?" she asked him, referring to her brother.

"No. But he's not my baby girl. Everyone knows you're my favorite." Father and daughter shared a laugh.

"But daddy, that's a double standard, isn't it? I mean, I'm being super careful. This was a thought out, informed decision invested in love. You know that. I wouldn't give myself to anything that I didn't feel was one hundred percent right for me. Music included. I got that from you." She told him. "I need you to give me room to grow like you did with Jett. I'm eighteen now, daddy. I'll always be your daughter, but I can't stay two years old forever."

"Why can't you just slow down and wait, Mercedes? Why do you have to rush into these things?"

"Wait for what, daddy? Wait for life to happen for me instead of creating it? What you call rushing is what I call seizing the moment. I've been singing all my life, daddy. I'm really good! I know it's far away, but UCLA is a natural choice for me. And Sam and I were friends for almost a year before we started dating, and together for a few months before we decided to move forward. He respects me and loves me. He's never forced me to do anything I wasn't ready for. And I really think that..." Mercedes smiled at the bathroom door, thinking of her love. "I really believe that he's my future. He cares about me almost as much as you do, daddy."

"Almost being the operative word, bug." Mr. Jones sighed and grew quiet. "And I know that Sam is the real deal. I can tell. The boy's genuine."

"So, will you trust me, daddy? Trust me to make the right decisions? Trust me to mess up sometimes? I can pull myself together, I promise. I can bandage my own wounds. I'm stronger now. You don't have to kiss the boo-boos anymore."

"I guess Sam's doing the kissing now, right?" She grew quiet, feeling her cheeks heat up. "But you're wrong about one thing Mercedes and always will be."

"What's that?"

"I'll always be there to kiss the boo-boos, no matter how old you are. I may not be the only man in your life anymore, but I will always be your father."

Mercedes pressed a kiss to her receiver. "I know, daddy. I love you for it."

Mr. Jones chuckled, pressing a kiss back on his end. "And I promise not to track Sam anymore. As long as you're honest with me, I'll...I'll learn to trust you more, baby gi-I mean, my _young lady._"

"I'll tell you everything, daddy." Mercedes promised.

"Please, not everything. Let's leave a little mystery," Mr. Jones pleaded. Mercedes laughed.

"Okay, okay. I'll give you the family friendly version." She relented.

"Just be safe, bug, in everything. That's all I care about. Protect your heart, love your body more than anyone else, and guard your mind. Do that, and I'll be happy."

"I love you more than words, daddy." Mercedes said softly.

"I love you more than words, bug. Have fun." Mr. Jones quickly caught himself. "But not too much fun. Just...maybe some over the clothes fun. No wait, but that could lead to other things...lord knows that's how your mother and I got your brother..."

"TMI, daddy! Bye!" Mercedes laughed, hanging up her phone and tossing it back in her bag. Sam's small whimper in the bathroom caught her attention.

"Sam? Are you alright in there?" Mercedes cried out, smiling at the length of time it took for him to "get himself together". "I didn't finish you already, did I?"

"Not at all!" he shouted back, clearly in the middle of his "handling." "I'm just gonna—_shit!—" _he squeaked, "Just give me three more minutes!"

Mercedes threw herself on the bed and heartily laughed. It felt good to overwhelm him. It felt even better to know that she could still inspire that kind of reaction from him after they'd gone through so much sexually.

Her conversation with her father had inspired a reflection of sorts on her growth these past couple of months. In every mental image of her past self and present self, Mercedes could only find improvements that had changed her for the better. She felt at home in her body again, though the struggle to accept herself was a daily effort. She had rediscovered her voice again, musically and otherwise, and felt heard. She and Sam were stronger than ever, naked in a luxurious yacht and ready to indulge in one another. The conversation she'd had with her father had been long overdue, but Mercedes had finally found the words and the courage to tell him what was on her heart. Mercedes couldn't remember a time when she was as sure of herself as she was at that very moment. With everything she'd overcome and all she'd conquered, Mercedes could stand taller and speak with more authority. Circumstance had forced her to choose between maturing and relenting, and the more difficult choice proved to be her greatest success story. If this were one of her sessions and Bee were here at this very moment, how could she explain this realization? What would she tell her?

_I'm free, Bee. _

There it was. That hope she'd voiced on her first day of therapy had come to pass today. No guilt remained, or doubt about her future. Donovan didn't frighten her anymore. The words _sexual assault survivor_ didn't make her cringe. She could say it aloud.

"I survived." Her eyes met her towel-clad reflection in the ceiling mirror in full scale, from her wavy black hair that fanned across the pillows to her polished toenails crossed together. "Hey, you. Nice to see you again. Isn't that smile of yours gorgeous?"

And her reflection smiled back at her, happy and full of life. The sight was a reunion of sorts, and part of her wished that she could jump up and hug the woman that stared back at her. Instead, she took off her towel and threw it aside to admire her body.

"Mmmm...isn't all of you gorgeous?" she told herself, winking as she held her full breasts in her hands and massaged her nipples.

Sam's reaction to her made her feel irresistible. It had been far too long since she'd pleasured herself and enjoyed the view.

"Oh, baby..." She closed her eyes and allowed her hands to wander across her body, wherever they wanted to touch for however long it pleased her. The fingers of her right hand traced the small rising bumps of her areola, while her left hand's fingers followed the folds and ridges of her stomach. Both hands met along the width of her hips, tickling her goose-bumped skin until her body rose and shook on its own. She moaned and spread her legs to pet the small tuft of pubic hair right above her vaginal lips, rubbing the wet curls between her fingers until the moisture made them slick. Though she had taken care to shave for the negligee she'd worn tonight, mostly for comfort and Sam's viewing pleasure, the small rebellious patch she'd left there had been all for her. Mercedes enjoyed the friction when they were making love. The scratching thrilled her.

"Shit..." Just thinking about Sam inside her made her feverish. She bent her knees up and let them fall on either side of her. One hand spread her vaginal lips apart as the other massaged her throbbing clit, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, Sam." She could feel him touching her like this, urging her to come with that deep, sensual growl of his. His breath would tickle her ear, and one finger would slide inside her to help her along. He knew the small penetration was always just enough to bring her over the edge. "Fuck, yes."

Mercedes took the liberty of introducing her own digit, and though it wasn't nearly as long or skilled at finding her g-spot as she would've liked, it was enough to get her flowing. She touched her opening, collecting her essence on her fingers as it flowed and experimenting with its sticky texture on her fingers. She could smell herself coming, and the thought of Sam's tongue tasting her as she masturbated brought her to the very edge of a gushing orgasm.

When that very tongue left her imagination and became reality, licking up her slit, Mercedes jumped and withdrew her hands. She caught Sam's hair in her grasp before she could look down and recognized him.

"Sam! When did you—?"

"Doesn't matter. Keep going. It's been so long since I've watched you cum," he told her, dipping his tongue inside her. "Cum for me, Mercedes. You are so fucking gorgeous."

Mercedes threw her head back against the pillows and played along, resting her heels against his shoulders to give him a full view of her orgasming sex.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh." He encouraged, open mouthed as his tongue pumped against the force of her spasming walls. "Just like that, princess." Sam dragged a small trail of his saliva across her pussy lips, using the gentle rub of his fingers to mix his fluids with hers. "C'mon, cum for me."

"I'm...trying." The strain on her face pained him. "Talk to me?"

"You wanna cum in my mouth, darling?" She nodded and scooted down, rubbing her pussy against his mouth. "Mmm, someone's eager. You like the thought of that, huh? Cumming in my face? Soaking me?" He slowly licked her between her vaginal lips and flicked her clit with his tongue. "Nasty girl. I love it when you're nasty with me."

"Mmhmm..." She pushed his head deeper and reached down to massage the side of his throat, coaxing more of the tongue action that she desperately craved. Mercedes whimpered when his large tongue filled her and flattened out, pushing against the pressure of her clenches. "Keep talking, Sam. Your voice turns me on so much."

"What else turns you on, sweetheart?" he whispered when he pulled out, kissing her labia. "Tell me what else you need." Sam slowly eased two fingers inside her, and her body rose from the bed like a woman possessed. Their mouths hung open when he started thrusting, and her eager hips followed his every move. "You like when I finger fuck you, Mercedes? I know you do. I can feel you gushing for me." Sam moaned in delight and sucked her hardened nub as he pumped inside her. "So brown and pink and pretty. Gorgeous little pussy."

Her breasts jiggled enticingly as she bounced, round and glistening from her sweat, with two swollen, darker peaks standing atop them that begged to be tasted. Sam reached up and teased a nipple with his free hand, loving the pebbled feel of her rolling between his fingers.

"Oh god! Yes! Play with me." She toyed with her free breast, twisting and pulling her nipple high until its heaviness rose from her chest. Sam watched her and followed her actions, letting her nipple slip from his fingers when she released hers. The twins slapped against her chest and quivered from the impact.

"God, I love your breasts, baby." Sam moaned, sucking her clit harder. He moved his hand from her breast to spread her pussy lips apart as he ate, giving him a clear view of her pink folds. Sam sampled her, top to bottom, until she cried out and grabbed his hair. "Mmm, did I lick that spot? Let me lick it again." Sam's tongue fulfilled its promise, licking even more slowly than before, dipping inside her wetness until her body gave in to the pleasures of his mouth. Sam lapped up a bit of her essence, praising her sweet taste with a grunt. "You taste delicious, sweetheart. I want more. Cum for me."

Mercedes hummed as the first wave of orgasm wracked her body. Sam slid two fingers back inside her and pumped faster. "That's right. There it is. I want it. Let go for me, baby." He knew the penetration would drive her crazy. A second wave hit her, harder than the first, and Sam could feel her clenching harder and more irregularly around his fingers.

"Tell me when."

The full force of her orgasm stole her breath. All she could do was eagerly point to her sex and press Sam's face harder against it. Sam lapped up every bit of her cum as it flowed, catching all of it it in his mouth directly from the source. Her legs fell weak and collapsed in the midst of her convulsions, but Sam pushed her thighs higher and farther apart to continue licking her clenching hole until she came again, harder and wetter than the first time.

"AHH!" she screamed, scratching his scalp and thrusting against his lips as he ate her through the stronger second climax. His mouth was relentless. He wouldn't let her relax. As soon as her body recouped from the last orgasm, he forced her legs even higher and farther apart to coax yet another one out of her from the force of his tongue fucking. Her feet dangled over her head by her fifth orgasm.

"Sam...Sam, I can't..." Her thighs squeezed his head to still him, but he refused to ease his tortures. "Oh god...it hurts..."

Sam's head rose in alarm. "Safe word? You want me to stop?"

"Hell no! It's a good pain! Keep going!" She shoved his mouth back down to continue his work. He chuckled and resumed his noisy slurping. Sam only came up for air when she tugged his strands and pulled him up, fully satisfied.

"Oh yes, Sam..." Mercedes kissed his sticky lips over and over again in gratitude, licking her own as they parted to taste herself. "God, your mouth."

"Yeah?" He pecked her lips again, kneading her thighs and wrapping them around his waist. "You like my tongue in that puss, darlin'?" She nodded and kissed him again, digging her nails into his shoulders. "You want some dick now? Hmm? Nice and wet for some cock, baby?"

"Yes!" she cried eagerly, stealing a longer, needier kiss. "Make love to me, Sam."

"Tell me you want it, princess."

"I want it. I want you." Sam growled and kissed her, shoving his tongue possessively down her throat. "I want you to fuck me. Please?"

"Horny, sweetheart?" Sam teased, reaching between their bodies to stroke her as he kissed down her throat. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, hugging him close as he loved her.

"Ugh, you don't even know, Sam." Mercedes moaned, lifting her chin to give him room to kiss across her collar bone. "You don't even know how long I've wanted you...how much...how many times I've fantasized about this...wishing that you'd touch me like this again."

"Really now?" Sam laved the tip of her left nipple and pulled it into his mouth, releasing her with an audible pop. "Well then, why don't I just give you what you want, princess. I'm ready for your massage if you are."

**O-O**

Mercedes wasn't even ten minutes into her rub-down before Sam's caresses had her panting again. He wore only a towel around his waist, and had the nerve to bend over her head and across her body to knead her thighs. The _back_ of her thighs. Apparently, Sam enjoyed having her knees pressed to her chest. And his sly swipes across her erect clit as he massaged her also told Mercedes that he enjoyed having the uninhibited access to her center of pleasure.

"You are such a cruel tease." She groaned, parting her lips when his stiff cock poked out from between his towel. Every time he'd put his back into his kneading, she'd tilt her head back and give the head of his penis a quick, enticing lick.

"Me? You're the one finishing me before we start." Sam told her, looking down with a playfully judging eye. "I see you, Ms. Jones. You ain't slick."

"You either. I don't remember any massages where the client gets touched there." By then, Sam had coated his hands in the slippery lubricant oil to palm her, and two of his fingers had already slipped inside her pussy. "Except maybe in porn."

"You watch pornography, Mercy? You?" Sam laughed. "I can't see it."

"Hey!" Mercedes pouted, swatting his lower stomach. Her fingers lingered to touch the hard muscle she'd discovered there. "I've done a lot of things that may surprise you."

"I can see that." Sam answered, pushing his fingers deeper inside her to make her moan. "You are just full of surprises tonight."

"S-Sam?" Mercedes moaned and arched into his moving hand.

"Yes, my love?" he smiled, kissing one of her bent knees. His fingers never ceased their steady, slow caresses.

"I...I...shit..." It was so hard to think straight when Sam was around her. Mercedes held her knees farther back to give him more room to pleasure her. Sam took full advantage, leaning down to lick her opening and the puckering of her sphincter. The new stimulation to her ass made her cry out, and when the tip of his tongue pressed against the tightness there, she nearly lost the last shreds of her control.

"Oh yes...YES!" she cried. "Baby, I like that so much!"

"Really now?" Sam's smile grew wicked. He spread her ass cheeks with both hands and pressed against the sphincter again, giving the tiny sensitive hole the attention it deserved. Her answering quiver made his efforts worth it.

"Mhmm. Lick my ass, baby," she demanded. "Kiss it."

Sam obeyed her command, kissing her twice and nuzzling her sex. "I did promise you a kiss, didn't I?"

Mercedes chuckled at the memory. "It's your fault. You were the one writing checks your novice street fighter moves couldn't cash."

"I resent that, Jones," he said in mock offense. "But it doesn't matter now. If this is my punishment, then may I never win any game against you ever." Sam released a relishing moan into his second lick. "That's fine with me."

At the mention of dirty kisses, Mercedes remembered the request she had wanted to make earlier. "Sam, can I have the massage oil?"

"Sure," he answered, wetting his pinky in his mouth to push it inside her tightness. His free hand blindly handed her the bottle. "Why?"

Mercedes poured a generous amount of the scented lubricant in her hands and ripped off his towel, grabbing his erection with her slick hand. "No reason," she casually answered, licking up his shaft and greeting the tip with a soft kiss. "No reason at all."

"Oh fuck, Mercedes." Sam nearly collapsed on top of her. Her mouth was so sudden, so hot and swift and thorough in its pleasing, that he nearly lost his footing. "Just like that, sweetheart. Suck me just like that."

"Yeah? You like that? You wanna cum in my mouth?" she teased, repeating his earlier words. "My mouth makes you want to cum?" She drew his cock head just between her lips, running her tongue up and down the small slit of his penis. "Tell me when, baby."

Sam groaned and stood up, shifting over to stand at her side. She changed the angle of her head and opened her mouth wider, allowing him to slide back inside. Sam reached down to play with her clit as she sucked him, and her groan of pleasure vibrated wonderfully around him.

"Mmm..." Mercedes slurped eagerly and audibly, giving him the pleasure of a show. Ever the performer, she even had the presence of mind to show off her vocals with a series of scales. When she hit her third octave change, Sam grew cross-eyed.

"Okay, that's it. I've got to be inside you, baby." Sam panted. Mercedes eagerly nodded and sprung from the massage table to climb into bed. Sam climbed on top of her and nestled himself between her thighs, covering their joined bodies from the chill of the air. Now that they were in bed and in position, the weight of the moment loomed over them and cooled their haste.

"So, this is it, huh?" Sam said lamely, running his thumb over her cheek. "You ready?"

Mercedes glanced over his shoulder to her reflection above them and nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready."

Sam reached over to the night table drawer for the box of condoms. He fumbled to get it open, and when he finally did, the foil wrappers clumsily slipped from his fingers and plopped to the floor.

"Shit!" Sam blushed when he met his girlfriend's eyes. "I'm gonna just...get that."

She smiled at his nerves and watched him retrieve the discarded condoms. He ripped one away from the bunch, settled the rest in the drawer, and rose up on his elbows to slip it on himself. Watching Sam put on the condom made everything frighteningly real, and the sight of his sex so close to hers gave Mercedes an anxiety she couldn't quite name.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, honey?" The familiar endearment made her smile.

"Just...go slowly, okay?" The apprehension in her eyes worried him.

"Are you sure? We don't have to if you don't want to. I told you, we could just fool around like before. It's alright." He told her, kissing her forehead. Mercedes closed her eyes and drew his chin down to kiss his lips. The tenderness of the touch brought tears to both of their eyes.

"I'm not scared of you. I'm just...scared." she timidly explained. "I just want this to be good."

"This will be good, whatever happens. Don't perform. This is just us. Just you and me, okay?" They nodded together in agreement. "Good. What's the safe word?"

"Home. I say home and we stop." Having some control over the pace of their lovemaking gave her comfort. "Okay, I'm ready." She smiled assuredly, though it hadn't quite eradicated the nervousness in her gaze. "Can you hold my hands? Like you did our first time?"

Sam kissed both of her knuckles and laced her fingers with his, lying their joined hands on either side of her head.

"Don't let go," they said in unison, making the other laugh.

"I won't," they answered together. The couple silenced their jinxes in a kiss, and with a slight raise of her knees and push of his hips, they found a new sense of completion in the physical. The two moaned the power of their union in each other's mouths.

"Sam," whispered Mercedes, too overcome by the sudden welcomed fullness to utter anything else. Only his name meant anything now. "Sam..."

"Mercedes," Sam whispered over her parted lips, just as reverently. He withdrew and pushed in again, and the second time proved to be more fulfilling than the first. "Are you okay?"

She could only nod. The stretch of him after so many months of emptiness was overpoweringly pleasurable. "Sam...mmm..." She moaned, drawing out his name in a cry of longing. "Deeper."

Sam nestled his face in her hair, smelling the vanilla from her shower and chocolate from the massage oil in her strands. _It's us,_ he thought_. _Sam filed the smell away to memory as he pushed into her a third time, tucking her crossed ankles between his thighs. His pelvic bone hit hers, and Mercedes released his grip to run her small hands down his back.

"I love you so much," she murmured, tenderly kissing his shoulder. Her kisses to his neck made his stomach flip, and he turned his face to meet her halfway and join their lips.

"I love you, too," he murmured against her chin as they parted. "I think I always have."

"Me too." She quietly laughed, staring into his eyes. They were a peaceful spring green, the green of sage and peppermint and grassy summers near the lake. They were as green as the first teddy bear he'd won for her at the carnival, the one with the purple polka dotted bow that he'd insisted was placed there by fate. His eyes were life, all budding new and burgeoning joy. She could easily give herself to someone with eyes so welcoming. "You are so beautiful, Sam."

"I was thinking the same thing," he told her. They'd both caught his error at the same time, and Mercedes's nose wrinkled adorably in her grin. "About you, not about me." He chuckled, imitating her scrunched face. "Not about me. You're beautiful."

"No, you," she argued in a soft voice, running her finger down the bridge of his nose.

"No, you," he quietly retorted, nuzzling her cheek. She sighed at his affections.

"Why don't we just agree that we're both right, hmm?" Their lips joined again, and Mercedes welcomed the next push of his hips with a squeeze to his bottom.

"Handsy." Sam smirked above her. "But you feel good."

"You feel better." She smirked back, patting his thigh. He moved faster, quickening his thrusts.

"God, I missed being inside you," sighed Sam, licking the side of her throat.

"I missed you being inside of me." Mercedes sighed back, cradling his head. "My Sam."

He lifted her knees higher and tucked an arm under her behind, thrusting harder. "My...my Mercedes." He leaned his face against hers, foreheads rocking together as they moved. "All mine."

"All mmm...mine." She whimpered, caught in a tremor. Their bodies neared their precipices. Sam could feel the telling draw of his balls that signaled he was close. Mercedes's clenches grew stronger and more erratic, working to draw him in as deeply as possible. Sam joined their hands again and held them over her head, senselessly pounding into her as his orgasm approached.

"Mercy, please tell me you're coming now, because...I can't..." He groaned in time with each spurting pulse of his cock, shooting stream after stream of his seed against the latex barrier between them. Mercedes reached between them to stroke her clit and came soon after, grabbing a corner of the pillow behind her to muffle the sounds of her screams. Sam continued jerking his hips to help her along, giving her the remainder of his erection while it lasted. He stilled when she grew slack and collapsed against the mattress, and the two shared one last desperate kiss as one flesh before Sam pulled out and rolled off to her side. They laid in each other's embrace as they calmed, panting chests and sweaty limbs entwined together until the last of their surges subsided and their bodies could no longer give.

"That was definitely better than good," Mercedes said aloud, gulping her next breath. Their eyes met in silent agreement.

"That was a ten." Sam nodded, still panting. "That was a definite ten."

**O-O**

The amorous mood lingered past their climaxes. Now that they had tackled their biggest relationship hurdle, Sam and Mercedes found themselves completely content dwelling in their nakedness. Their lips hardly left an inch of the other's body for a moment, and their lovemaking had opened the door to a purer, almost childlike sense of honesty between them.

"I love the way you taste," Sam confessed, lifting her foot to kiss the curve of her sole. "Every part of you." Her largest toe slipped between his lips, and she moaned when his tongue swirled across her skin.

"I like the way you feel," Mercedes told him, smiling. "Especially your chest. It just feels hard and manly." Her fingers idly twirled his blonde strands as he kissed up her calf. "I like when you press up behind me and hug me close."

Sam crawled up and settled against the pillows, pulling her over between his legs. "You mean like this?" he asked with a smirk, hugging her waist and kissing her temple.

"Yeah." She smiled, turning her face in his neck. He smelled like sweat and Irish spring. It was the sexiest smell in the entire world. "And you're naked."

"Hell yes!" His confidence made her giggle. "If I had my way, we'd always be naked."

"We? Don't drag me into that. I actually like clothes." She laughed. "If you want to be Tarzan, be my guest."

"You don't want to be my Jane, Mercedes?" Sam asked with a pout. "Swinging on vines? Yelling and beating our chests? You don't want to learn how to speak Gorilla? It would look awfully great on a resume!"

"Shut up, Sam. Your dork is showing." She snorted, poking his chest. He crossed his arms and pulled away, clearly unsatisfied with her answer. Mercedes rolled her eyes at his antics and decided to indulge him.

"Okay, one yell, but that's it," she conceded. "This will never leave the bedroom, right?"

"Scout's honor," Sam swore, smiling and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He looked far too eager for Mercedes's liking.

"Only for you, I swear." She chuckled, shaking her head at the thought of what she was about to do. "On three, okay? One..."

"Two..." Sam counted, readying his fists.

"THREE!" The two dorks threw their heads back and let out the most primal, guttural yell they could muster, wildly beating their chests like they'd seen in the movies. When they'd finished, Mercedes collapsed against him in laughter.

"That was really cathartic!" Mercedes nodded, eyes alight. "We should do that more often!"

"Cathartic?" Sam's brow knit in confusion. "Small words, babe. I told you, I'm not brilliant like you."

"Cathartic means emotionally relieving, and I wish that you'd stop saying that," Mercedes said with a sigh. "You're smarter than you think. If you set your mind to it and applied yourself, you could master words and really increase your vocabulary."

Her mouth entranced him as she spoke. Sam could watch her talk all day. "Why do you like words so much, Mercedes?" he asked, leaning his head against hers.

"Well, mama used to always tell me that words have power. There's life and death in them, you know? At least, that's what the bible says," she explained. "So, I thought, if words have so much power, then I could collect them all. Maybe I'd transform into some literal superhero or something. I would even study the dictionary in those old telephone booths, just in case I'd have to transform." She looked up into his judging eyes. "I was five when she told me this. My dreams were fantastic."

Sam held in his laugh and urged her to continue.

"Then, when I got older, I fell into song writing. That's when I realized what mama really meant. Words make people feel some powerful things. They express the greatest of life's emotions. When I wrote or sang, it made me feel like...nothing was out of my reach, you know? I could feel everything and express it. I could find the perfect words to tell the world my story."

"That's beautiful." Sam smiled, kissing her cheek. "I wish I were as passionate about words as you are."

Mercedes turned to face him and cupped his face, staring deeply into his eyes. "I wrote something about a year ago that I'd like for you to read. Do you want to see it?"

"Of course. I'd never say no to one of your poems." The couple shared a smile. Mercedes wrapped one of their sheets around her body and shuffled to the closet, pulling out her small journal of written word. She hopped back into bed and in his arms, snuggling against him as she flipped through its pages.

"Now I know it's in here somewhere...Aha!" Mercedes pointed out the aged page, written in bright purple ink. "This one. Read it to me."

"You want me to read it? It's your poem," argued Sam. "I don't know if I'll do it justice."

"I'm sure you will." Mercedes smiled, laying her head against his chest. "Please?"

Sam could never refuse her when she spoke so gently. "Okay. But if I suck, this doesn't leave the bedroom."

Mercedes held her hand to her heart. "Scout's honor, Evans."

Clearing his throat and adjusting his imaginary glasses like an English professor, Sam prepared himself to read. Reading aloud was a constant challenge for him, but Sam knew that Mercedes wouldn't make fun of him if he messed up.

_Since the womb_

_We hold our breaths_

_And keep the practice still_

_So when we leave_

_And gasp with life_

_Our mouths can close at will_

_But we keep holding _

_Never knowing _

_What we miss or why_

_Until one day _

_True love comes in_

_Compelling us to try _

_And try we must! _

_Though scared and shy_

_Of what the unknowns hold_

_For we, encased and lonely beings_

_Are calmed within control_

_But if you do,_

_On careless whim,_

_Open wide_

_And let love in?_

_Ah! The joy! _

_You'll think it strange _

_you dwindled on regret_

_for life cannot exist in fear_

_So live_

_let go_

_take breath_

"That's how I felt the first time you kissed me," Mercedes quietly explained, filling up the awkward silence that loomed after his reading. "I had always felt secure in myself, but thought that I would end up alone. When you came along...I wasn't really prepared for you."

"I didn't know you felt that way," Sam said, shaking his head at the page. He glanced at her, searching her eyes. "This is how _I _made you feel?"

"Yeah." She ducked her head and hid her face in his chest. "When everyone tells you that someone like me doesn't deserve the attention of someone like you, you start to believe it."

"Someone like me? I'm nothing special," Sam shrugged, answering honestly. "I was afraid to approach you because I thought that you were too good for me."

His serious gaze met her surprised one. "Really? Why?"

"Because you light up a room, Mercedes. You have a presence that makes the most secure people feel inferior around you, and then...then you make those same people love you with your kind heart. I was just some hick that could play guitar and couldn't spell that got five dollar haircuts from his uncle bob. What did I have?"

"You're funny and smart, Sam. Your impressions make me smile every time. And I love the way you smirk." Mercedes immediately answered. "Your heart is so open and big, maybe too big to handle how harsh life can be sometimes, but I pray that you never lose that. And that light you see in me? I see it in you, too. It's bright, colorful, and the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced. Words may not be your thing, but you sure know how to make me swoon when you tell me how much you care about me. That's enough." She touched his cheek. "You're enough. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"I'm trying," he admitted, touching the hand over his cheek. "Honestly, I am."

Mercedes leaned in and slowly kissed him, savoring the tiny smack their lips made as they parted. "I'll help you," she quietly told him. "One day, you'll see it."

Sam only nodded, unsure of how to respond. "Well...I started writing our story, like I promised you. I even got started on some of the illustration."

Mercedes gasped and excitedly clapped. "Really?! Do you have it here? Can I see it?" Sam hesitantly nodded, reaching for his small portfolio book hidden in his duffel bag of goods.

"It's not really finished yet. The story's still a rough draft. But, once I develop it, I'd like to make it an animated series or a comic. I think that it could be really successful." Mercedes snatched the book from his hands and opened it up to the marked pages. Sam carefully watched her eyes as she read and studied the sketch he'd drawn. "I plan to do some coloring and shading soon, but that's the look I want for our characters."

"Can I read it?" Her eyes looked hopeful, and perhaps, a bit teary as she asked.

"Sure." Sam replied, nibbling his bottom lip. Her thumb swiped against his mouth, easing the tension in his jaw.

"Stop worrying. I love it already." Mercedes leaned back against his chest and held the book open on her lap, reading the words aloud like it was a bedtime story.

_There was a time when heaven and earth were one. The days blended into nights, and the stars were indistinguishable from the moons of the universe. In this place, the rulers of the whole, Luz and Oscuro, existed only to love and be loved by one another. The sovereign one above them looked down in joy, smiling at the purity of their hearts. He watched them for centuries, observing their interactions, and planned in his mind to give them a special gift on their one hundredth anniversary. On the day, the sovereign one broke a piece of his perfection, rounded it in his hands, blew the breath of life into it, and created a realm he called earth for them to live in. "This is for you. A newly birthed place," he told the lovers. "Nurture it as you nurture the love you share." _

_Oscuro and Luz agreed and left to spend the rest of their days in their new home. In this same time, Diablo, the evil one, had watched all that the sovereign one had done for them and grew jealous. He had existed long before they had, but his power could never match the strength they shared when they were together. Furious, he demanded that his creator give him a piece of heaven as well. But the sovereign one had been watching his heart for some time and knew all of the corruption and danger it held. "Your blood burns in you like lava," he told him. "You cannot master the realm within, so why should you be granted anything bigger and greater? You will never have any of my property." _

_So Diablo devised a scheme in secret to steal the precious earth for himself and kill the two lovers in the process. What he didn't know was that leaving without the sovereign one's permission caused massive chaos. He took his small band of followers, his mighty spear, and the weight of his vengeance on his quest, leaping from the whole to dive into earth. As he and his followers left their place, the universe was severed and scattered, divided unnaturally amongst the skies. The earth no longer touched its mother land, and the lovers were separated from their creator forever. Diablo waged a mighty war against them, but even with the strength of numbers, he could not kill them. Cowardly in nature, he ran into the new dark haven called night, dwelling there in secret. In his rage, he snatched Luz and took her with him, tearing her away from the other part of her heart. The earth flourished and grew, but it was never the same. Oscuro searched for his love when the night came, but Diablo would always hide her in a new place. The only thing connecting them was her song. It pulled him to her like a tether every time. It was his guiding light in the unfamiliar, and he vowed that it would someday bring them back together. Until then, love would never be perfect and beings would always be incomplete, searching for their home of wholeness._

Sam knew she was done reading when her eyes flickered away from the book. "I have some revising to do, of course. But, I was thinking that his search for her could be the premise of the series, you know? And every so often, Oscuro would encounter Diablo and his minions and have a huge battle. Maybe the lovers would even catch glimpses of each other from time to time, to keep the hope up," he explained to her. "What do you think?"

"I love it just the way it is, Sam," Mercedes told him, kissing his lips. "And I hear our story in it. But why didn't you keep the lovers together? We're together."

"Because love is a journey. People don't read to get the happy ending right away. They need the journey. The chase is what makes it all worth it. Right?" He smiled down at her. "It worked for us."

"See? I told you that you were smart!" Mercedes smiled, tapping his forehead. "You're gonna be such an amazing storyteller, Sam. I know you are." She pointed to his illustration. "And I love your drawing. How come we're wolves and not people?"

"Because wolves imprint on their mate. Once they've found the one, that's it. They can't see anyone else." He explained, hugging her shoulders. "I thought it fit."

Mercedes closed the book and rested it on her night table, freeing her arms to pull his more tightly around her. "And you picked Spanish names for..." Her yawn interrupted her sentence. "...our characters."

"It's our language. The language of love." Sam watched her mouth and caught her yawn. Their long night had finally caught up with them. "I thought it would be a nice touch."

"You know what else would be a nice touch?" Mercedes asked him, voice growing decidedly more weary. "Falling asleep with you after such a great night."

Sam eased his hold to let her snuggle under the covers. He followed her lead, settling beside her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Sam?" she asked from his chest. His eyes had already started to droop.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." Sam opened one eye and smiled, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

"Don't thank me yet. We've still got a couple of hours to go." He yawned. "Thank me when the sun comes up."

"Maybe we can watch the sunrise together. You think?" He grew quiet, drifting asleep. "Sam? Are you sleeping already?"

"Is this gonna be a thing, woman? You waking me up to talk when I'm falling asleep? Because if it is, then we might have to get a divorce." he joked, holding her tighter.

Mercedes laughed, smacking his chest. "Don't joke like that," she whispered, fighting against the weight of her eyelids. "S'not funny."

"Then stop talking," he sleepily ordered. "We'll stay together."

Mercedes watched him close his eyes and felt his breaths even against her cheek. "Sam?"

"Hmm?" he yawned again, stretching as much as he could with her body against his. "I didn't tire you out enough? Why aren't you sleepy?"

"I'm thinking," she answered, twirling the light sprinkling of his chest hair around her finger. "It's your fault, with your stories. I'm not really sleepy, just sore."

Sam smiled big with his eyes closed. "It's 'cause you got that good dick."

She weakly poked his shoulder. "Not that kind of sore, Sam. My cheeks are sore from smiling so hard. I feel like I'm going to burst from feeling so much. I'm happy sore. You make me happy."

"Happy like yellow roses?" he asked her, head already drooping. She nodded once, squeezing his waist.

"Happy like tons and tons of yellow roses." Sleepy conversations at three in the morning hardly made the most sense, but they were always honest and heartfelt.

"Someday, I'm gonna buy you a garden of 'em, princess. Yellow roses from end to end. And everyday, I'll pick one and put it on our kitchen table...and you'll smile..." His voice fell away in another yawn. "You'll smile everyday with me."

A few minutes of silence passed between them, enough to suggest they'd both fallen asleep.

"Sam?"

Her gentle voice barely made it past his subconscious. "Mm?"

Her head drew closer to his, and he felt her small chin and full lips press against his neck. If he were more aware, he'd have sensed her soft pucker as a kiss.

"Marry me, okay?" she told him in a whisper, settling in the small space between his chin and shoulder.

Sam nodded without a second thought. "Okay."

"Good." smiled Mercedes, relaxing at his answer. In that drowsy covenant, the two finally found the peace to quiet themselves and let their dreams overtake them.

**O-O **

_Sam's first day of therapy_

_Dr. Taylor's office_

_Saturday morning, 9am_

"_So, are you one of those people that became a doctor because your parents forced you to, or did you always want to pick people's brains?" Sam's fingers carelessly flittered over his counselor's shelf of books as he walked. "I bet you were one of those nosy kids they'd call 'Inquisitive' or 'bright for their age'."_

"_Something like that." The counselor chuckled, observing his new client's movements from his brown recliner. "I actually used to hate school until I had my first psychology course in college. My parents were afraid that I'd never amount to anything. I think that they were just grateful that I'd picked a career." _

_Sam nodded. "Oh, so you're one of those experimental, indecisive types." "You just stumbled into this, huh? Really responsible." _

"_You seem pretty hung up on boxes and labels, Sam. Why is that?" the counselor asked. "And can we sit down and talk about it? All of your walking around is making me dizzy." _

"_If I sit, then you'll start to work on me and make me say things. I hate doctors." He grumbled, continuing to pace. The tiny office already felt stifling. "They swear they know everything when they're usually the ones that know the least." _

"_Ouch. Well, there goes my Yale degree, huh?" Dr. Taylor laughed. "I'm hurt that you'd just generalize all doctors instead of getting to know me. You know, if you let down your guard for a bit, I might surprise you." _

_Sam eyed him skeptically. "You're wearing brown and white socks with a brown vest and white collared shirt. Something tells me that you're not the kind of guy that does surprises." _

_The counselor looked down at his attire in surprise. "I like structure and order. It's terrible in other professions, but a great trait in mine. Kind of like how your attention to detail is what makes you a great artist." _

_Sam stopped in place. "How do you know I'm great?" _

"_How do I know that you're not?" the counselor smiled, patting the chair across from him. "I can only assume until you show me, right? Isn't that what you did with me?" _

_Sam had to laugh at his clever turn of words. "Okay, I'll give you that. That was good. Maybe you're not a quack." _

"_And maybe you're an extraordinary young gentleman. Or a thug. I'm not quite sure yet. Your outfit is confusing me." _

_Sam glanced down at his spider-man hoodie and distressed jeans and shrugged. "I don't follow fashion. I've never been good at following any kind of rules." He laughed. _

"_You think so." The counselor stood and walked over to his second bookshelf, standing behind his desk. "But I assure you that there were people before you that broke the rules of fashion. And you know what? They got their different from someone else's different. Unique is really all about perspective and time. Inherently, we are all made up of the same foundational things. We just express these things in different ways. I do it with my color coordinated socks and tie as you do with your hoodie and torn jeans. In essence, we're both declaring that we follow what we like, not what others deem popular or cool. It's the same message, just communicated two different ways by two very similar men." _

_Sam finally sat down, awed by his wisdom. "That's a cool way to look at things, doctor." _

"_Ah! He calls me doctor! My first break through!" The doctor exclaimed, making Sam laugh. "Now that I've got you speaking to me instead of at me, I'll ask you why you've come to see me." _

_Sam sighed and propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his chin against his raised knuckle. The counselor sat in front of him, ready to listen. "Well you see, my girlfriend-her name is Mercedes-we used to date last year, but I had to move with my family to Kentucky when my dad lost his job, so we broke up. Then, when I came back, she was already with someone else. But, I knew she still loved me, so I kept pursuing her. Eventually, she left the guy, we started dating again, and everything went back to the way it should be." _

_Dr. Taylor's eyebrows rose. "And?"_

"_And?" Sam repeated, confused. _

"_Well, I assume that you didn't come to me for advice on your love life. It seems like you have a pretty good handle on it." _

"_Well..." Sam closed his eyes, dreading his next words. "There was this other guy that came into the picture. His name is Donovan." _

"_Oh, some competition, huh?" The counselor's smile dropped when Sam's eyes popped open, glaring at him. _

"_He sexually assaulted her. He wasn't trying to date her." He spat. _

"_Oh, I'm so sorry, Sam. That's terrible." The doctor answered sincerely. "How is she?" _

"_She's dealing." He sighed, plopping back in his chair. "But, I'm not doing so great with it." _

"_What exactly bothers you about it?"_

"_I feel like...I feel like I should be doing more," he answered. "But every time I try to do better, I always find a way to mess it up. I don't think before I speak." _

"_And when you say more, you mean?"_

"_I feel like I should be better than I am. I'm not living up to my potential." He told him sadly. _

"_Who told you that?" _

"_I'm dyslexic, Dr. Taylor. I'm broke. I pull C's with my hardest effort. I couldn't even keep my goldfish alive for longer than two weeks." He shrugged. "Life told me that." _

_The counselor hummed in thought, knitting his fingers together. "What if I were to tell you that I was and still am just like you?" _

_Sam frowned. "I doubt it. You're a freaking doctor." _

"_I'm a freaking dyslexic impoverished boy turned doctor, Sam." Dr. Taylor smiled at his surprise. "I told you. Same man, different clothes. We've both been told that our best wasn't good enough. But you know what I realized? My best was all I had to give. And you know what that got me? A PhD, three houses to my name, and my pick of the finest leather chairs to invite my clients to sit on." _

_Sam felt the material under his hands for the first time. "This IS nice," he admitted. _

"_This is my best. And I found it at 22." He chuckled. "Imagine what your best can produce, Sam. You're an artist, so I know you can see above and beyond. Just take a moment and imagine that your best could get you everything that's worth having in life. When you see it, then you'll live it. And when you live it, well..." Dr. Taylor leaned back, laughing. "then people will start taking one look at you and assuming that you've always had the world at your feet. _

**O-O**

Mercedes woke less than an hour later to a colder and emptier bed.

"Sam?" Her voice was still hoarse from sleep when she called for him. "Sam?"

Hearing no reply, she got up to put on her robe and investigate.

"Samuel Evans..." The breeze from the curtains chilled her bare legs. When she pushed them back, she realized that the window had actually been a sliding door all along, leading to an open deck. "Sam?" she cried louder, stepping outside.

Mercedes finally spotted him sitting in a corner amongst a pile of life preservers, bobbing to the beat of whatever blasted through his headphones. He seemed preoccupied with his phone, scrolling and jotting down notes every few moments in the small black journal on his lap.

She snuck up and surprised him, removing an earpiece and kissing his cheek.

"Oh, hey." He smiled, kissing her back. His voice still seemed a bit rough and broken as well. "I was just writing down some things for therapy. I promised Dr. Taylor that I wouldn't miss a day."

"Is it about me?" Mercedes said with a smile, leaning over his shoulder to sneak a peek. Sam slammed the book closed and locked the screen on his phone before she could see anything. "No fair!"

"It's private, Mercedes! But, if you must know, a lot of it is about you. Good things, of course." He mischievously grinned.

"Of course," she repeated, a bit more warily. "All those notes better be G rated, Evans. That's all I'm saying."

"Me? Bragging about sex with my hot girlfriend? I'd never dream of it." The wiggle of his eyebrows told him otherwise.

"Shameless. You are just shameless, boy." She chuckled, shaking her head at his boldness. "But I like it—when we're in private."

"So are you saying you'd like to have me privately or you like my privates?" he joked, deliberately misunderstanding her. "That darn dyslexia always makes me misunderstand things."

"If you come back inside, I can show you," she offered, parting his robe to kiss his bare chest. "It's too cold out here to share privates privately, don't you agree?"

He watched the sway of her behind as he walked away, then glanced at his lap and wondered why he was still sitting there with cold gadgets and books when there was a warm body and hot pussy waiting for him inside. Sam shoved his things in his robe pocket and followed her inside.

Mercedes lingered near the glass door, pretending to take her time fiddling with the curtains as she waited for him. She smiled when he slid the door closed and cornered her, then laughed aloud when he yanked the curtains closed and gave her the privacy she'd demanded. With one swipe of his thumb across her tender lips, he leaned in to kiss her, gently pressing against the small of her back until her body yielded to his.

"Sam?" she murmured, between soft pecks of lips and softer breathy gasps.

"Yeah?" he replied, pulling away to listen. Their chests heaved together, one sinking as the other rose.

"Do you think that...that we could do it here?" Mercedes's face burned as she asked, but the idea of wall sex with Sam next to a perfect view of the lake made her thighs sticky and her core tingle.

Sam's smile grew and grew as he watched her worry her lip, waiting for his answer. "My little woman has requests now?" he teased, kissing her lips hungrily. "You want me to take you against the wall?"

The pounding of her heart grew louder in her ears, both in anticipation and desperate arousal. "Yes. Very much." She nodded, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck to kiss him again. "That's what I want."

He pulled her body flush against his and guided her toward the corner, right in between two metal handles braced against the wall. "Tell me again," he growled, rubbing himself against her. It was then that Mercedes realized her request excited him just as much as it did her. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to take me against the wall. Right now." she whispered in heaving breaths, gulping audibly.

Sam kneaded the backs of her thighs, surprising her with a light slap to each. "Jump."

Her feet sprang immediately, and Sam seated her ass on his wrapped forearms to keep her steady. She giggled excitedly from above him, looking down with the sexiest smirk he'd ever seen.

"I love the view from up here," she told him seductively, wrapping her legs around his waist and locking her ankles. "I love the way you feel."

"I love the way _you _feel." Her head fell back when he licked the tight space between her breasts. Sam nipped the hot skin, thrusting his hips slightly when she grabbed and pulled his hair.

"Say it. _Again,_" he demanded, eyes three shades darker when he looked up at her.

"I want you to take me against the wall, Sam," she growled, bouncing against his terrycloth-covered erection. "Fuck me hard against the wall, Sam. Push my legs apart. Spread my pussy. Make me cum against the—."

Sam grabbed her neck and kissed her sinful lips before she could finish. Only the press of his hips between her thighs held her up, and Mercedes lifted her feet to set them against the metal bars. Her hips sank as she parted her legs, but her thigh muscles clenched around him to hoist her back up to his lips. She kissed him deeply, and as their tongues dueled, Sam eased his hands between them to un-knot their robes. Opening hers first, he took the opportunity to touch each curve of her naked body, from the round of her right breast to the hard point of her nipple and fleshy ripple of waistline. Mercedes, growing impatient, took the free hand resting on her back and shoved it between her legs, eagerly moving his wrist up and down to rub his fingers against her clit. Sam was always impressed and turned on by her strength, but this time, her rough handling and the rock solid bulge of her flexed thigh muscles clamped around his made cock leak pre-cum. If he didn't act fast, he'd be inside her before he could reach for protection.

"I know." Mercedes pulled away and sighed against his mouth. The heat of her breath made his lips quiver. His eyes met hers in question, and she answered by fishing in the pocket of her robe and holding the golden wrapped condom between them. "I know what you were thinking. I told you...I want to do this right. I'm not trying to trap you."

"I am not worried about that." he hurriedly replied. He bent his head to snatch up the corner of the condom wrapper between his teeth. Before she could ask, he took her hand and rubbed her palm over the tip of his cock. The stimulation made them both sharply inhale, and Mercedes muttered an excited "Oh!" when she felt a sudden, strong spurt of fluid hit her fingers and drip down her wrist. She looked down in surprise, and he merely raised his eyebrows in an 'I told you so' manner.

"Let me put on the condom." Sam frowned at her request, gaze registering his uncertainty. "I promise I'll be careful and I won't...I won't jerk you around too much."

His aroused groan made her smile. "Thank you," she sang, pulling the square wrapper from between his teeth. Sam watched her nimble fingers make efforts to rip the wrapper open. When it wouldn't tear, she caught the edge between her teeth to use the force of her bite. Sam's lips fell apart, dampened and pink, as he stared at her entrancing lips.

Mercedes pulled the lubricated rubber out when she'd broken through the wrapping and tossed the foiled package to the wayside. They each took a steadying breath when her right hand slowly descended between them.

"I'm gonna...just..." She settled the condom on the tip of his cock, rolling it down a centimeter to hold it in place. When she pinched the tip, her thumb unconsciously swiped across the furrow of his glans. His penis jumped, and a second spurt of pre-cum filled the deflated tip soon after.

"Sorry," she said awkwardly. She bit the corner of her lip and carefully slid the condom the rest of the way down his shaft. When she reached the end, Mercedes gave Sam's cock a light squeeze near the base, hoping to stave off some of the pressure her touches had created. Sam nodded in silent thanks.

"I've gotta let you do that more often," he joked, hoping to break some of the sexual tension. Judging from her smile, it worked.

"Only if we get to do this more often." She tenderly replied.

"Oh Mercy, we can do this whenever you want." Sam promised her. The lovers pressed their foreheads together, allowing the moment to wash over them before they moved forward. They were going to be one again. "Ready?"

She nodded, wiggling a bit to ease the tingling in her legs. Even with Sam's support, the strain of holding her own weight up in the position she was in had started to affect her ankles and calves.

"Wrap your legs around me again. I've got you," Sam whispered in her ear, smiling against her cheek. One arm scooped under her ass again, and Mercedes gently eased her feet down one at a time and tucked them behind his back.

Once she was settled, Sam carefully positioned himself against her entrance. "What's the safe word, baby?"

"Home. I...I say home," she said quietly, nodding her consent. With a careful push, he eased inside her, gliding in from the pull of her walls and slip of the condom. He nestled his nose in her neck, breathing in her smell and reveling in the throbbing of her quickened pulse as he entered her. She clawed his back, gasping quietly as his fullness stretched her to her capacity.

"Oh, god. Oh, Sam." The feeling overwhelmed her senses. All she could inhale and feel, the only thing she could taste on her tongue, was him. "Baby, that's so good."

"Yeah." He grunted when he'd reached the hilt of her and his balls swung and slapped against her cushiony behind. "So fucking good."

He closed his eyes and leaned up to kiss her lips, swallowing her tiny squeak when he moved his hips back and pushed in a second time. "Ah, yeah..."

"Is this what you wanted? You like this?"

"I love it, Sam." She rubbed her face in his hair, loving the soft tickle of his downy strands against her face. "More?"

He gave her more, all he could give her. Sam gave her whispers of affection and soft squeezes of her body. He pushed all of himself inside of her until her knees rose in anticipation of him and her hips moved with his as he pulled away. He kissed her like her lungs were his, and every living breath in his body depended on her exhale. Mercedes felt her tears, but didn't care to hide them or wonder why they came. All that mattered was their push and pull, their contracting and releasing, his firm muscles pressing into her soft body until she molded to his shape like a second skin. Their temperatures rose a degree with every thrust, and after thirty minutes, the chase for climax demanded that they move faster.

"Mercy..." Sweat drenched his body until every lock of hair on him lay straight and clung to his skin. Mercedes's curled ends swirled against her wet back, tightening in pattern and bouncing with their thrusts.

"Sam...I'm coming." He wrapped an arm around her waist and powered into her, energized by her words. "Are you-Oh _fuck!-" _The speed of their fucking made her eyes roll back. Her chest heaved from the coiling in her belly. "Are you coming, baby?"

Sam could only nod into her cleavage and grunt, overwhelmed by her tightness. "S'good." His cock found a spongy spot inside her that made her scream in pleasure, and Sam spent the last of his energies hitting that spot with his cock over and over again until her pretty nails ran down his back. Mercedes tucked herself against him, sensing her how close she was, and seconds later her body wracked with convulsions from her orgasm, jerking against him until her essence dripped from her and trickled down the crook of her ass. "Ahh!"

"Ohhhhh fuuuuccckk Mercy...tight little fucking pussy..." Sam pressed his lips hard into her shoulder as he came, pushing in deep and imagining that every drop of his seed contained in the condom flooded her womb. Mercedes stroked his hair and rolled her hips, whispering how good he felt inside her as he came to help him along.

"Just like that, baby. You feel so good cumming inside me. C'mon, give me everything. Fill me up, baby."

Her cheek against his muffled his whimpers, and when their bodies calmed, he kissed her slowly and let her down to her feet.

"I love you, Sam." He kissed her lips once more pulled her into a hug, nuzzling her temple.

"I love you too, Mercedes." Her small hands rubbed his shoulder blades, and the small laugh that rumbled against his chest filled him with a satisfaction that rivaled their love-making.

**O-O**

The couple removed their robes and lounged on the bed, laying their naked bodies close together to fulfill their need to be closer. The comforters and decorative pillows had become too cumbersome, so they gathered all the heavy linens and threw them over the small window seat on the deck. Their sheets kept them covered and cool enough to be comfortable.

"Question." Sam began, laying on his front with Mercedes beside him on her back. His fingers drew idle patterns on the inside of her thigh, enjoying her warmth as he watched her finish the last of the cider.

"If you're gonna ask what I think you're gonna ask, then the answer is I need at least fifteen minutes and some Gatorade to recover." She answered, unsuccessfully suppressing a less than lady like burp from the bubbly drink.

Sam chuckled at her forwardness and snatched the bottle, taking a swig and burping behind her. "Not that. But I did come prepared, just in case. The cooler is stocked. I think I snuck some red bull in there, too." The two shared an easy laugh.

"So what was your real question?" Sam pulled part of her sheet away, uncovering her chest to lay his head on her bare breast.

"The first time we made love." He began. "What was it really like for you? Was it special or scary or...?"

"Well, I was really nervous about how I looked the whole time. I didn't want to make any dopey faces or anything. The thought of the pain scared me a little. And I swore that I'd never get over you afterward. It was living big for me. Making love was a mental and physical adventure." She answered. Mercedes rubbed his forearm and ran her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly until he looked up to see her smile. "It was the most special think I've ever shared with a person. I didn't regret it. Why?"

"Nothing, just..." Sam shrugged away the uncomfortable feeling in his chest and lay back down. "My first time wasn't anything like that. It was chaos and rushed and full of regrets. I wasn't in love at all. I wasn't even in deep like." His fingers walked up her stomach and over her free breast, pinching the pert nipple. "It was nothing like what we had. I made sure to be careful and delicate with you." He outlined the curve of her breast with his thumb and circled her areola, like a sculptor shaping her form. "I knew that I'd always remember it. The last thing I wanted was to make the same mistake twice, especially with someone I loved so much." Her free hand joined his on her chest, and Sam tilted his head up to look into her eyes. "I wish that our time was the first time for me. I wish that we could've shared that, just you and me. When you know what the real thing feels like-what it feels like to open up—you kick yourself for cheating with cheap imitations."

"You didn't cheat on me." She told him gently.

"But I did. I didn't wait to find you." He answered. "I should have been strong enough to wait for you like you waited for me. There shouldn't have been other women. All that talk about getting as many girls as you possibly can is bullshit. Guys can feel just as used as girls can."

Mercedes studied his eyes and recognized a familiar pain in them. "You understand, don't you? That feeling." She asked him quietly. "It's how Donovan made me feel. Like I wasn't worth the respect."

"Like you were just a body. A toy." Sam laughed humorlessly and nodded. "Trust me, I know the feeling. You feel less than a person."

"Dehumanizing." Sam frowned at her. "That the word for the feeling. It...it has a name. Dehumanizing."

"Dehumanizing." Sam scraped his tongue with his teeth after he said it, like the word had left a nasty film behind. "It even feels wrong to say it."

"Baby, do you believe that bad things happen to us sometimes because we need to share those moments with someone else?"

"Like, it helps bond people together?" Mercedes nodded in agreement. "Maybe. It sure would explain a helluva lot about my life." He joked. "That's a nice thought. Shaking my ass at Stallionz was all a part of my grand design."

"That's not exactly what I meant." Mercedes giggled.

"You sure?" Sam sat up and sprung to his feet, bouncing lightly on the mattress.

"Sam! What are you doing?" The sight of him standing right in front of her face without a stich of clothing on made her heart skip. "Come down!" she laughed, swatting his thigh.

"Can't! Gotta fulfill my purpose!" he hopped off the bed and ran his dimpled butt to the stereo, putting on an old school slow jam. Gyrating his hips as he sauntered back over to his girl, Sam sang along with the track and gave her a show. "_My body all over your body, babe...your body all over my body babe..." _

Mercedes excitedly rose to her knees and reached for him, running her hands over his abs. She laughed when he started to body roll against her touch, then licked her lips when she looked down and realized that every _other _part of him rolled as well. Catching sight of the chocolate massage oil on the night table, Mercedes snatched up the bottle and let the shiny fluid run down his moving chest. Her small hands made quick work of rubbing it into his skin, and their eyes met when she leaned forward and circled her tongue around his nipple.

"I feel like I should pay you." She whispered to him, humming as she pressed the pebbled pink skin between her lips. "But I don't have any money on me."

"I accept favors." Sam groaned when she licked down his chest, pressing gentle kisses to his stomach and around his belly button. "Just like that, Mercy. Love me just like that."

"Sam?" She inquired, nipping the tight skin over his ribs. "I'm curious about something."

"What?" he answered lowly, smiling as she left little love bites across his chest.

"There's something I want to try, but..." Mercedes licked his untouched nipple, suckling it in her mouth. "If I ask you, you have to be honest with me, okay? Don't get embarrassed."

"I'll try my best." He chuckled, sliding his fingers through her hair to rub her scalp. Mercedes inhaled deeply and leaned her head back into his touch. She loved a good scalp massage during their sexy times.

"Now you've got me curious." he told her, pressing her lips harder against his skin with a small push of his hand. "What is it?"

"That...time...in your bedroom." She answered between kisses up his sternum, ending on his chin. "When you were massaging your cock?"

"Oh god..." groaned Sam, pressing the small of her back to pull her body closer to his. She sounded so innocent saying the most erotic things.

"You called my name." Mercedes moaned into her kiss to his lips. "What was that woman doing in the video?" Sam sucked in his lips and inhaled sharply when she pulled her sheet away and tossed it behind her. Her skin felt so hot against his. "What was I doing, baby?"

"Mercy, you...mmph." He couldn't think straight when Mercedes cupped and rolled his balls in her soft hands. "It was a moment of weakness."

"I want to do it for you, Sam." She kissed up his jaw, tickling the underside of his dick with her nails. He pushed his hips slightly towards her touch. "I want to know what she did...so I could do it for you. Don't you want me to?"

"That...is a complicated question." He groaned through her kisses over his neck. "It might be too much."

"Let me judge that." She told him. "Tell me, Sam." Sam pressed his forehead to hers and groaned when she slowly began stroking him. "Tell me every fucking desire you have, baby." She whispered against his lips. Her hooded stare met his in longing. "I'll be better than any video vixen."

His cock firmed and lengthened. "Sit on my face." He panted. The suddenness of his answer threw Mercedes off guard.

"What?" she asked him, blinking in surprise.

"She sat on his face and told him what to do." Sam explained, swallowing hard. "She rode his tongue. That's what I want."

Lust coursed through her from his request, too quickly to suppress the violent shudder that followed.

"I'll suffocate you." She breathed, even as she pushed him down on the bed and climbed atop his body.

"Maybe I like that." Sam smiled, pulling her thighs closer to his head. "Maybe I want to die happy."

Mercedes rose to her knees and aligned herself with his jutted tongue, sinking onto his mouth. Sam started to move immediately. "Oh yes, Sam. Go to work." She panted, rubbing her labia against his full lips. "I love that shit. I love it."

"Tell me what to do, Mercy." He growled, looking up at her as he spread her pussy lips apart and wiggled his tongue across her clit. "Tell me how to make you cum."

"Suck my clit and stop talking." She smiled wickedly, rising slightly on her knees and dropping on his face. He followed her command and greedily ate. "You might choke if you talk with your mouth full." His chuckle between her legs turned her on even more.

Mercedes grabbed the headboard and rode his face, surprising herself with how quickly and recklessly her body reacted to such an unusual position. Maybe it was its difference that excited her. Perhaps Sam had helped her tap into parts of herself she'd never thought to explore before.

"You want my pussy dripping all over you. I know you do." She growled to him, gyrating her hips. Mercedes fell into her dominatrix role with ease. "You like the way I taste, Sammy? It's good, right? Tell me how good."

He praised her with a full mouth, moaning his appreciation.

"That's right. Don't half ass that tongue, daddy. Hard and strong. Shove it in and fuck me like you're hungry for it." His tongue pistoned inside her, curling up and twisting around, performing all kinds of acrobatics to please her. Mercedes glanced up at the mirror in the ceiling, and grinned when she caught him jerking his cock behind her.

"Aww, you need to cum, too? My poor baby." she cruelly teased, squeezing his cheeks with her thighs. "You want me to help?" he nodded, slurping her essence. "Your fist isn't enough, is it?" He violently shook his head, jerking himself faster as he ran his tongue between her lips. "You want inside my tight pussy, don't you?" he nodded again, panting a quick "Yes!" before he coated his lips with her essence. "I want you, too. Make me cum first. I promise I'll make you happy after."

Sam reached up to knead her breasts as she rode his face. Mercedes cupped her hands over his, crying out with each suctioned pull of his mouth over her clit. Within moments, she came, surprising herself and Sam when the force of her orgasm flooded his mouth and made him cough. She slid down his body to allow him to sit up and catch his breath. His lips glistened with her essence, and the syrupy sweet dripped down his chin and over his Adam's apple.

"Lay down." He commanded, breathing heavily. The feathering of his hair across his brow and passion in his eyes made him look like a wild man, untamed and ruthless in his pursuit. "I want you on your back."

Mercedes quickly followed instruction, flipping over and laying herself flat on the mattress. Sam gently lifted her calves and dragged her closer, until her sex was perfectly aligned with his.

"Look up." He ordered. "Watch in the mirror, sweetheart. Watch me fuck you."

Mercedes watched his back straighten in the mirror as he rose above her. From their angle, she got a complete view of her body, glistening and dark from sweat and the glow of the soft lighting in the room. She watched him slip on a condom and lay his hard penis against her parted lips, and the complimenting of their skins pressed together excited her. Sam eased her knees back, opening her fully, and looked up to smile at her reflection.

"I told you we would have fun with this." With one swift thrust of his hips, he was fully inside her, pressing against her thighs to keep her open for their viewing pleasure. Mercedes reached back to grab the edge of the mattress, bracing herself for each push of his hips. Sam closed his eyes and pouted his lips as he moved. It was the first time that Mercedes got to fully enjoy the sight of their union and admire how sexy their bodies looked moving in tandem. Her breasts parted on her chest and jiggled wildly from the reverberation of his hips met hers, and the image of Sam's thickness forcing her lips apart with each push made her feel fuller somehow, amplifying the sensations.

Experimenting, she reached down to touch herself, and found that the sight of her masturbating while Sam was inside her pleased her just as much as the feeling.

Sam smiled at the image of her rubbing her clit. "You see how sexy you look when I'm fucking you, don't you? You need to touch yourself, sweetheart?" Mercedes nodded eagerly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "That's alright. Go right ahead and tease that clit. Go right ahead."

She watched him lean down and capture her nipple between his teeth, nibbling slightly as he continued his thrusts. He laid his cheek flat against her chest to give her full view of his mouth as he nipped and suckled her skin, then moved up to litter the side of her neck with kisses. Mercedes ran her hands across his flexing back and pulled him closer, sighing when their chests finally met and pressed together. His ass clenched against the soles of her feet with every ease inside her.

"Sam." Sam picked her up and sat her on his lap, spreading her ass apart as he continued his thrusts. Mercedes leaned in to bite his bottom lip, and their movements became so needy and frenzied that she accidently drew a bit of blood. The pain only seemed to set Sam off even more. He threw her body back down on the bed and quickly flipped her over to enter her from behind.

But the moment her chin hit the mattress, Mercedes felt everything change. Her heart raced in panic. Her eyes closed and tightened in fear of the body behind her. The smell of truck exhaust and cheap cologne overwhelmed her senses, but she was suddenly too terrified to look back and check. Her limbs grew stiff. She couldn't fight back. The body had her trapped. The body nudged her thighs apart and pushed his member inside of her, eager to get themselves off without concern for her well-being. She knew there was a way to stop this without fighting, a fail-safe, but her sane thoughts were clouded by her alternate reality.

"Mmmph!" her moans weren't of pleasure, but the two sounds were indistinguishable. Sam kissed the back of her neck and quickened his thrusts, leaning over to lick the shell of her ear. She shivered from the touch of his wet tongue. Sam believed that her silence was, like all other times before, an indication of her impending orgasm.

"You like me tapping it from behind? Owning that ass?" he whispered roughly, nipping her earlobe. "I always knew that...

"..._you liked it dirty." _Sam's voice blended with the memory of Donovan's, and for a moment, Mercedes couldn't separate the reality from the memory. _There's a word_, screamed her brain. _Say the word and it's all over._

"Sam..." she cried out, calling for his help, tears buried in the mattress as she held on for dear life. Her anguished plea blended into her impending orgasm, and she silently cursed her body for betraying her yet again. Sam sped up even more, laying his cheek against the top of her head as his own orgasm came.

"Oh, baby. Baby, I'm about..."

"_To come. I'm about to come inside you, Mercedes. You want that?" _

"NO! GET OFF!" she screamed to Donovan's voice. The body stopped moving behind her. When he finally slipped out of her, she got up and sprinted to the corner of the room.

"Mercedes?" Her cries confused and frightened him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

She trembled violently, like she had been submerged in icy water. Instinctively, he walked over to touch her shoulder. The stinging clap across her cheek nearly threw him off his feet.

"NO, DONOV...Oh!" Mercedes looked up and gasped in her hands, realizing that she had hit her love instead of the man that hurt her. "Oh, god. Sam...Sam, I'm so sorry!"

Sam eased himself to the ground and leaned back against the bed, clutching his cheek in shock. "Mercy?"

"I couldn't remember! The word, I...I tried to remember and I couldn't!" Fresh tears welled in her eyes when she saw the hurt in his. "I didn't mean to call you that. I know that it's you. I just panicked and I freaked out! Oh god!" She pulled her knees in and rocked herself, reeling from her mind's relapse. "Damn it! It was going so well! I'm so sorry, Sam! It was all going so well!"

"What...happened?" he asked quietly, wiggling his jaw to ease some of the pain. "Did I do something?"

"Just go away. Please. I don't want you here right now. I don't want you around me like this." She sniffled, burying her face against her thighs. Her heart was still pounding. "Please leave."

"But, Mercedes, I love you. What's wrong?" She ignored him, keeping silent. "Talk to me, damn it! Tell me what's wr—"

"I SAID LEAVE!" She screamed, hoarse from sobbing. He tried to touch her knee, but she hid herself beside the night table and slapped his hand away. Sam recoiled, more hurt by her rejection than his stinging cheek.

"I'll just...I'll be upstairs alright?" She continued to rock and sob, harder than before. "Okay."

Sam picked up his strewn bathrobe from the floor and threw it on, tying it closed as he walked up the stairs. When the cool outside air hit his face, the haze cleared, and it hit him that everything he'd just experienced had actually happened. It wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't a worst case scenario he'd created in his mind. Mercedes was actually huddled in a corner, afraid of him like he'd feared she might be.

Could he have done something differently? Was he too rough?

Sam knew that he could sit and rack his brain for hours, but never get an answer that satisfied his guilt. She would have to tell him why.

She'd almost called him Donovan. In her mind, something he'd done reminded her of Donovan. It sickened him to think about it.

"What do I do now? Should I go back? What do I say to her?" he asked the stars. They were as silent as he'd expected them to be. Perhaps heaven had frowned at his conduct, too.

What had Dr. Taylor told him in therapy? They had discussed this very moment, in case their night together ended disastrously. What resolution had they come to?"

**O-O **

_Sam's 15__th__ appointment_

_Dr. Taylor's office_

_Saturday, 9:35am_

"_I'm just afraid that one day she'll look at me and only see him. That I'll do something that makes her lose her trust in me. I don't know what I'd do then." Dr. Taylor handed Sam the tissue box to dry his tears. Sam pulled a few sheets and cocked his head to discreetly wipe his eyes. "I mean, how do you know if you're...like Donovan? I'd heard about him before...seen him around. He seemed like a normal person. I would never guess that he was the type of person that he was. What if I have a part of me like that and I don't know it?" _

"_You do." Dr. Taylor answered. "All men do. You have everything it takes to be a rapist." _

_Sam seemed visibly unsettled by his answer. "That's not what you're supposed to say." _

"_Really?" asked the doctor. "Why do you say that? You don't think it's true?" _

"_It doesn't matter what I think is true. You're the expert. You're supposed to tell me that I'm different. You're supposed to tell me how to fix my fears. You're not supposed to label me." Sam told him, growing angry. "What kind of counselor tells his client that they're a rapist?" _

"_The kind of counselor that's honest with his client. Look, the word is unsettling to hear, but we live in a culture that allows men to think that way and behave that way without giving their actions a negative connotation. When we act forcefully, when we ignore a woman's protest in the chase to win her affections, we call all of those things 'being men.' You've learned it and so have I. We're all potential rapists, Sam." _

"_So, there's no hope for me? For us?" Sam frowned. The lack of a resolution broke his heart. _

"_Now, I didn't say that, Sam. You're jumping the gun." chided the doctor. "I told you that we're all potential rapists. That's just going off of human nature and behavior alone. We're all born with the potential to do good or evil. It's called a sin nature. We all have the propensity or the tendency to do wrong things. We have to actively choose to be different. If you want to see a change, be the change, Sam." _

"_I don't understand at all. You lost me at the big words." Sam told him, eyes red rimmed and puffy. "How can I be the change?" _

"_If you don't want to hurt her like Donovan did, then actively work not to, Sam. You're off to a great start. You've sought therapy to get a handle on your problems. But know that loving a sexual assault survivor means that you will do things unintentionally that might trigger memories. Talk it out. Tell her that you'll give her space. Remind her that you will never be like the ones that hurt her before because you're going to work on how you interact as a couple. You care too much to resort to force. It might sound silly, but—"_

"_It doesn't sound silly at all." Sam whispered, shaking his head. "But, how can I make sure that I don't go too far? How do I prevent my sin nature from taking over? Am I strong enough?" _

"_No." Dr. Taylor answered. "But we serve a God that is. It's gonna take God and an active fighting will to assure her, Sam. It's gonna take both of those things to change the way you view yourself. You are only a monster if you allow yourself to be. Like Mercedes, you aren't destined to be a victim. You can win. Remember the anchor in your relationship. Remember that God is and always will be the life preserver in your darkest, deepest waters. You will never drown. Fight for her. Fight with her. He will always carry you both ashore." _

"_I don't deserve her love, Dr. Taylor." Sam quietly confessed. _

"_Perhaps not, Sam. That's a decision you have to make. But you have it anyway, right? Why not cherish it?" Dr. Taylor smiled, patting his shoulder. "Besides, I've gotten to know you pretty well these past couple of sessions. You may think that you don't deserve her, but I can guarantee that she deserves you. No questions asked."_

**O-O**

Deciding to be the change, Sam got up off his butt, rubbed his face, and went back downstairs to mend what had been broken. He found her in the very same corner he'd left her in a few minutes ago, curled up into herself.

Instead of trying to touch her, Sam sat across from her and mirrored her position. He knew she had sensed his presence from the way her feet drew away from his, but they both chose not to acknowledge it.

"Father God?" Sam began aloud. "It's Sam. I'm sitting here with my girlfriend Mercedes...your daughter, Mercedes...and she's hurting and scared because of something that happened tonight. I'm not sure what I did to frighten her, but I do know that what I think and feel doesn't matter to me right now. What matters is her."

Since Sam's eyes were closed, he didn't catch Mercedes peek above her folded arms to look at him.

"God, this was our biggest fear...well, my biggest fear, really. I was afraid that this might happen tonight. But now that it has, I realized that you're the only one that can fix it. Please assure Mercedes that she is safe with me. Help her to know that I wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt her. And if and when I do hurt her, because I'm human and imperfect, help her to understand that I will fight until my last breath to make it right. Heal whatever hurts inside of her, God. Touch the places I can't touch. Bandage her wounds. As much as I want to, I know that it's not in my power. You loved me enough to give her to me, and I love her enough to give her back so you can help her." Sam paused a moment, feeling a strange touch over his own heart. He felt a sense of peace he couldn't explain, even though nothing had been fixed.

"And God, help me to realize that I deserve to be loved by Mercedes. I deserve someone as special as her in my life. She is a gift, and I will treat her like the blessing she is for the rest of my life. We weren't brought together because of anything we'd done, but because you loved us enough to bless us with true happiness. Thank you. I thank you now for fixing everything. I thank you now for being in control when we can't be. And I thank you most for being our anchor in the deepest, darkest waters. Please lead us ashore. In Jesus's name, amen."

Sam opened his eyes to meet hers. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi, Sam." She said quietly, remaining in her corner. "That was a nice prayer."

"I meant it." Her toes crept out to touch his own, and Sam took the small gesture for the connection that it was. "Look, you don't have to explain anything. I know that this must be hellish for you. But, I'm not leaving. I'll give you space, I'll walk away for a little while, but I promise that I'll always come back, okay?"

Mercedes said nothing, only watched his mouth move. Her hair fell over her right eye and most of her left, concealing her vision, but Sam knew that she was listening and watching him carefully.

"I'm gonna go lay down in bed. That's where I'll be. When you're ready, you can join me. We can talk if you want." Sam nodded at her silence, taking it as her answer. He stood and climbed into bed, covering himself with their sheets. Surprisingly, sleep overtook him in minutes.

When he was awoken by her small hand on his chest, it felt like he'd been out for less than a minute. One glance at their clock told him that an hour had passed.

He sat up to greet her, and realized that her eyes were newly swollen from fresh tears. Mercedes opened her mouth to speak, but quickly decided against it. Instead, she slowly pulled his sheet away and exposed his body.

Wordlessly, she reached over to the night table drawer. When she pulled out a condom, Sam gently took her hand in his.

"We don't have to. You don't owe me." He softly told her, kissing her knuckle. She nodded.

"I love you. And I'm so sorry." She whispered, slowly leaning in to kiss his lips. Sam barely returned her kiss, unsure of how to respond. "You're not him. You're my Sam. I love you."

When she climbed on his lap and covered them, he didn't protest. She pressed his chest to lie him down, then opened the condom and slid it on him. His erection from earlier hadn't completely disappeared.

"Mercedes, what is this?" Sam asked, trying to understand her actions.

"I deserve...someone like you...loving me." The words seemed to take great effort for her to say. "And you deserve my love, too."

Sam's eyes watered at her words. She couldn't even begin to understand how much he needed to hear that. "Yes." He nodded, biting his lip. "Yes, I do."

Mercedes rose on her knees and slid him inside her, sinking her hips inch by inch until he was fully sheathed in her body. She didn't move for a long while. It seemed as if she was allowing herself to grow accustomed to him again, letting herself trust enough to move. Instead, in the silence, she studied his face with her hands, tracing the curve of his closed eyelids and the structure of his chin.

"Home." She whispered, feeling safety with him. "Sam." Sam was her heart's safe word.

He watched her to pull his hands to her hips, and when his thumbs smoothed over the sensitive skin there, she began to rock against him.

"Sam." She moaned, lifting his hands to her breasts and running them down her body. His rougher hands against her softer skin made her tingle.

Sam sat up and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, then her neck as she continued to move on his lap. She tucked her head underneath his and hugged him close. Feeling their orgasm grow nearer, Sam rocked with her, gripping her thighs and thrusting every so often to hear her whimper.

"Baby." She whispered against his skin, clawing his back with desperate need. She clenched around him, and the moment he felt her come triggered his own release. There were no yells or cries of pleasure. All that sounded in the room was their soft pants of breath as they calmed.

When her trembling ceased, Mercedes lifted her head and smiled at him. Sam smiled back and kissed her, lingering against her lips with a sigh.

He laid them down, with her on top of him, and moved to turn her to her side. She halted him with a hand to her chest and shook her head.

"Don't pull out." She begged him. "Not yet."

Sam understood. He didn't want to end their union either.

"Okay." He replied, lifting her leg over his thigh. Soon, she grew limp and snored against his chest.

Sam felt his own drowsiness return. They hadn't gotten much sleep at all tonight, and the emotional upheaval of the past hour had drained the last of his energy.

But, before he fell asleep, Sam reached down beside him to reach for the small velvet box in his pants pocket. He flicked it open with his thumb to admire the ring inside, then looked down to admire the slumbering beauty laying against him, and made a decision.

_Only put that ring on one finger, son_. His father's words softly rang in his ears. _And never take it off, no matter what happens. You hear?_

"No matter what happens." Sam repeated aloud, taking the ring out of its placeholder. Mercedes stirred slightly when he shifted to place the box on the night table beside them, but never woke. Her left hand endearingly moved along his chest until it rested over his heart. Its steady beats lulled her back into a steady, snoring slumber.

Sam kissed the diamond, then kissed her wrinkled brow just as gently, and slid the ring on her wedding finger where it belonged. The sun had just begun to rise over the clouds, and the soft filtering of its early beams peeked through the curtains to light his love's face.

Yes, he was sure of it. His heart and mind had decided. This woman, with her complex history and changing moods, would someday be his wife.

"No matter what happens." With a yawn, Sam closed his eyes and finally fell asleep, hugging her protectively.

**O-O**

With new mornings came fresh truths. Sam had been an early riser all of his life; since the womb according to his mother. Something about the sight of a glorious ball of light rising from the darkness gave him hope. He would wake a little after five on his most impoverished mornings in Kentucky to watch and say a silent prayer to God, hoping that He could orchestrate such a miraculous rise from nothingness for him and his family.

But when Sam woke up on this particular morning, he had already missed the grand artist at work. The sun had already found its place and shone brightly through the small spaces between the blinds. The room was overpowered by its light and warmth, overtaking Sam's senses and startling him awake a little after seven.

His arms squeezed instinctively around the soft fullness next to him. It took mere seconds for his mind to register the difference between soft breasts and a foam pillow.

"Mercedes?" Sam sat up and wiped his eyes clear of a few hours' slumber to look around. She wasn't on the window seat or in the bathroom. The pillows were in the exact same organized chaos they had left it in last night, and the bathroom mirrors were free of the telling precipitation from a fresh shower. The lights were off and the towels near the door appeared undisturbed.

"Mercedes? Baby?" He stood up, slid on his tuxedo pants, and walked toward the spiral steps leading to the top deck to call her again. "Mercy?"

Sam had the presence of mind to grab a small black book from the side table and run upstairs. More alert from concern, all of the memories from last night came back to him in flashes of images, reminding him of all that happened. Mercedes in the tub and covered in bubbles, eating strawberries from his hand...him behind her, disrobing their bodies in front of the mirror...the massage that led to fondling and generous kisses between her legs...her moans of pleasure underneath him as he eased himself inside of her for the first time in months...

It was all so vivid.

His feet moved double time at his most haunting memory...her cowering in the corner, hiding her face behind her knees in complete fear of him. The name Donovan had slipped from her lips loudly enough to break his heart.

"Mercy?!" the onslaught of unfiltered sunlight made him wince, but he pressed on, searching all corners of the deck. His girlfriend was nowhere to be found.

"Mercedes, where the hell are...?" A soft, bright strumming of music caught his ears, faint but clearly live. He followed the plucking sounds of a guitar, a sound he knew all too well, rounding the corner until it grew louder and stronger near the captain's quarters.

He opened the small white door, and there she was on the plush guest couch behind the captain's chair, bare-faced and wrapped in the white cotton sheets that smelled like their colognes mingled together.

"Hi!" she said hoarsely, sounding like weary joy. "Were you looking for me? Did I wake you? I didn't mean to, baby. I woke up this morning and had this sudden urge to play. It was only gonna be a couple of minutes, but I got carried away. I found it leaning against the railing. Listen, I'm getting so much better!"

Her soft smile as she played reminded him that they hadn't ended their night with unhappiness. She had smiled over him in that same way, riding him slowly as she whispered his name over and over in repentance for comparing his touches to her attacker's. The way he remembered her after, the trust in her eyes, relieved his bleary mind. The stress he'd woken up with melted away and a tiny smile of his own crept its way through.

"It sounds beautiful, baby," he said softly, ducking in the small space to sit behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. She wriggled back to lean more intimately against him and tilted her head, inviting him closer. Sam took the hint and happily perched his chin on her shoulder. His smacking kiss to her cheek made Mercedes smile, and she paused her playing to look at him.

"What was that for?" she asked, eyes dancing.

"For last night," his gravelly voice answered, hugging her tighter.

"Oh." She bit her lip to suppress a grin, refocusing her attention to her fingers' positions on the guitar strings.

"Lauryn Hill." Sam guessed aloud, identifying the familiar melody after she'd played awhile.

"Mhmm. Which song?" she asked him, continuing to play. "Guess. You inspired it."

"I'm gonna kick myself later, but I can't remember for the life of me. I'm sure you played it before." If his focus was more on the song, Sam probably would have been able to name it. But, he just couldn't get over how peaceful she'd looked. Her whole demeanor had relaxed; softer in face and calmer in spirit. Sam struggled to pinpoint what had changed since last night, but he'd hoped that their bonding time had something to do with the way she glowed today. Mercedes looked sure of things, mended together on the inside and wholly aware of it. "Just tell me the name of the song. I'm a terrible guesser."

Instead of telling him, Mercedes played the song from its beginning and started to sing. "_The sweetest thing I've ever known_..."

"Of course," Sam chuckled. How could he forget that one? She'd played it for him on the beach in California.

"..._Is like a kiss on the collar bone._" Sam swept her hair away and pressed a gentle kiss to her clavicle. "Sam!" she giggled.

"What? I thought it was interactive!" he insisted, smiling unapologetically.

She playfully rolled her eyes and continued. "_Soft caress of happiness…_" Mercedes closed her eyes when he rubbed his cheek against hers and began to sway. The soft prickling of his beard brushing against her skin as they moved made her stomach flip. His fingers idly drew circles around her covered bellybutton, and a sigh escaped her from the memory of last night's touches. "_The way you walk...your style of dress..."_

"I inspired this?" Sam asked, impressed. She hummed her answer. "Wow."

"_I wish I didn't get so weak..." _Mercedes turned her face, looking into his eyes on the last line. "_Ooh baby, just to hear you speak..."_

"Is that right?" Sam asked slyly, kissing her neck.

Mercedes moaned and nodded. "_Makes me argue just to see how much you're in love with me." _

"Now you _know _that's not necessary." Sam bent his head to kiss up her bare arm, murmuring his affections between each kiss up to her shoulder. "I wuv you, I wuv you, I wuv you."

She giggled at his silliness and the tickle of his lips. Sam followed each kiss with a gentle stroking of his fingers, enjoying the silkiness of her skin. "You're so beautiful, Mercedes."

"_See, like a queen, a queen on her throne...you are the sweet, sweetest thing I've known," _ she sang in reply, leaning her head against his as he touched her.

"_I get mad when you walk away..." _Sam began, surprising the hell out of her. Her shock amused him, and he gestured for her to join him. "_So I tell you leave..." _

"_When I mean stay," _they sung in harmony. Mercedes didn't bother suppressing her wide smile this time. They hadn't sung a duet in a while, and she'd forgotten how well their voices blended together. Music had always been her personal way of expressing her emotions, but it felt so fitting to share a song with the one man who knew her so intimately.

"_Warm as the sun dipped in black..." _Sam continued, nuzzling the sensitive spot behind her ear as he sang.

Mercedes jumped a bit in his arms, and then laughed when he slowly pulled away a corner of the sheet wrapped around her, exposing more of her lower back and part of her left breast. The cool touch of his fingers gliding across her shoulder blades made her shiver.

"_Fingertips on the small of my back..._" Mercedes arched her back and nodded for him to move lower. Sam traced each letter of his full name down her spine, writing his L over and over in the dip of her back.

"_More valuable than all I own..."_ he sung as she moaned, reaching up to trace the curve of her jaw. Playing while Sam touched her was becoming increasingly difficult.

"_Like your precious..."_ he sang, kissing her temple. "_Precious..." _He kissed her forehead. "_Precious, precious, precious, precious..." _He kissed her closed eyelids and the bridge of her nose, saving her lips for last. "_Dark skin tone..." _

Sam took Mercedes's hands away from the guitar and set the instrument aside, kissing her right wrist down to the tip of her middle finger.

"_Like a queen..." _she sang.

"_You're my queen..." _

"_A queen on her throne..."_

Acapella, their words held more power. As Sam moved to kiss down her left wrist, a sizable rock on her ring finger scratched his cheek and brought yet another memory back to him. In his drowsy search for her, he had forgotten about his acceptance of her proposal. Sam pulled back to stare at the sparkling diamond on her finger, glowing purple from the small amethyst nestled in its center, and the urgency he'd felt this morning had returned with a vengeance.

_I put this on her finger. _Sam's heart thundered in his chest when her eyes flickered to the ring. _She knows I put it there. _

Would she want to take it back, now that they were both fully awake and the haze of last night's wonder had faded away?

Mercedes smiled slowly fell away, and boldly, she clasped his hand and continued to sing, hoping her words would allay his fears.

"_It was the sweet, sweetest thing I've known..."_

And Sam internally sighed in relief for the second time that morning. _She remembers. _He could see it register in her eyes.

"So, did...did the ring inspire this song?" he asked shyly, clearing his throat and looking down at his lap as he addressed her.

"Kind of," she answered, her voice just as gentle and careful. "Is it like…a promise ring or..?"

Sam's head shot up, and his sage green eyes darted between her warm, hopeful sable ones in confusion. "Don't you remember what you asked me? Last night?"

She nodded, chuckling away her timidity. "I do. I just didn't want to assume and embarrass myself."

"Oh, there's no assuming sweetheart. I want you to be my wife. The ring is my way of saying yes." The shock and question in her eyes confused him even more. "Do you still say yes?"

When she started to worry her lip, he interrupted her. "Look, before you tell me no and come up with all these reasons why we shouldn't be engaged, I just want you to know that I respect the fact that you want to wait until you win your first Grammy to get married. But, being engaged doesn't technically count as marriage, right? I mean, it's like intent to marry, not actually saying the vows and everything. And we can still finish school and go after our dreams together like we said we would. There's no pressure or rush or anything!" Sam panicked when her eyes started to water, but kept going, hoping to convince her.

"Look, I know that I'm not as good with words as you are. Telling you I love you is the best way I knew how to say what I felt. I couldn't find anything else that matched up. But, you taught me that words have power, that there's life in them. I want my words to give you life. I want to tell you something new every day and always make you feel like you're hearing it for the first time. So, I looked up a thesaurus and found all of the words that mean something close to love. I have a whole book of them with me, one for each day of the year and then some. Before you answer, I'd like to read some of them to you."

"Oh, Sam..." Her eyes flooded with tears when he fished out a small black book from his back pocket. As he flipped through the lined pages, Mercedes could see endless scribbles of his scraggly handwriting. Sam took to one knee and clasped her hand in his, holding his book with the other.

"I'm enamored with you," he began, glancing at her as he read. "I'm fond of you. I fancy you. I adore you. I cherish you..."

"Sam, please." His words wrung her heart. Her arm trembled in his, and she felt ready to collapse from the cavalcade of emotions.

"Oh, this one's my favorite." He skimmed through his book until he spotted his word near the back. "I have a hankerin' for you. Doesn't that sound like such a country way to say it? Hankerin'..." He chuckled at his own joke. "I'm enraptured with you. I hold fond affection for you. I desire you with all of my heart. You pierce my soul. I exist for your happiness. I...well, maybe I should save some for later. That is, if you still want me to." Sam paused when rivers of water streamed down his love's cheeks and dampened her neck. Her face crumpled, and she let go of him to cloak her face in her hands. Sam caught her as she fell to her knees in front of him, and then coaxed her out of hiding with a gentle nudge to her chin. When she finally looked up, her eyes were a bruised pink and still endlessly streaming. He smoothed her wrinkled brow and smiled at her, hoping to get her to speak.

"You don't understand...what this means to me...right now," she said between gasping sobs. "You were there when I...when he...and you still want..." She couldn't finish a thought without growing overwhelmed again. "You've seen everything, Sam. Every scar, every panic attack, every bruise...and you just…you kissed the broken places over and over again. You could have been killed because of me, but you didn't run away. You never left once. Anyone would have...I would have...left me." Mercedes sniffled and dabbed her nose, breathing deeply so her words would make sense. "You were with me through all of it. And now, after everything I put us through..." She held up her newly adorned finger between them, arching her knuckles to display her ring. "You want forever?"

"There is no one else for me. Don't you see that? You're number one," he told her, wiping her eyes with his thumbs as he cupped her face. "There is absolutely no one else as right for me as you. I've looked. Mercedes, when you told me that we should just be friends, I was lifeless. I moved away for a year, got into so much trouble, dabbled in things I shouldn't have looking for something to fill the void you'd left in me. All I wanted was someone who could fill in that blank after 'I want to spend the rest of my life with.' It's Mercedes Jones and it always will be. I want to spend the rest of my life on this earth with Mercedes Jones, my best friend in every sense of the word. You're the one who never left me, whether you realize it or not. I was running away from the memories of us, and you were building a tree house for me, hoping that I would come back to see it. You found someone else who wanted to be with you, someone who wanted to love you and marry you, and you still save your heart for me. You offered your life when someone else threatened to take mine_._ And after all he put you through, after Donovan tried to destroy you, you still found the courage to trust me enough to love you. I'll never find someone so special anywhere else." She hugged him when sobs began again, and they locked their holds in each other's embrace, gripping like vices to the life their love had brought them. "Oh, sweetheart." He whispered lovingly, throat constricting from emotion. "My father told me to put that ring on one finger, only when I'm absolutely sure. And I'm sure of you and me, no question. I just know, like..." Sam started to tear up as well and nestled his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. "I know like you're encoded in my DNA."

She chuckled and kissed his cheek, squeezing his waist even tighter. "And I know like you're written underneath my skin," she replied, nuzzling his neck.

"So, is that a yes?" he asked hopefully, leaning back to meet her eyes. "And before you answer, I have to say that I've never cried for any other woman except my mother. That _has _to give me bonus points or something. And I don't think that they re-issue the man card after you end up on your knees sobbing over a woman, so please be merciful."

She laughed again, heartier and fuller, until she toppled her over into his chest. "Before I answer, I just want to go on record and say that I asked you to marry me first."

"Oh! Another blow to my ego!" he exclaimed, groaning as he clutched his heart. "Now you've gotta say yes or I'll never recover. Don't do me like that, Jones!"

"Evans." she said quietly, so quietly that he'd almost missed it in the midst of his antics.

"What?" Sam stilled and watched as she slid off the string he'd tied around her engagement finger and tossed it to the side, wriggling down the diamond and metal to cover the small indentation it had left behind.

"I said Evans. You can't call me Jones if we're engaged." She smiled at the brightening of his eyes. "I'm gonna be an Evans now."

He took a moment to let her words wash over him. _Evans. _It sounded so wonderful coming from her. "Yes, you are," he said rapturously, rubbing her cheek. "My missus Evans."

"Yours period," she replied, leaning into his touch. "But I've always been yours, haven't I?"

"You always will be," he told her certainly. "Because I know for a fact that I am not letting you go ever again. You'd have to be the one to leave me darlin', and that's after I lasso you down and tie you to your bed."

"I don't think that's going to happen." she murmured, leaning into his lips. "See, this ring means that I'll never be gone too long. It's like our home base. If we ever separate, this promise we've made will always pull us back."

"I like that. Our home base." Sam smiled, stealing a kiss. "Makes it sound like a cool space mission or something."

"To infinity and beyond, Sammy." Mercedes smiled back, thieving a much slower, passionate kiss.

Sam grunted a laugh while they were still joined. "To infinity and beyond..." he replied. He carefully studied her features, etching her joy in his memory like one of his illustrations. "...my Mercy."

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"My knees are starting to hurt," she chuckled, wrapping the sheet more tightly around her body. "And I'm still naked."

"But I like you naked." He laughed, standing up. "I like you naked and in my bed. I like you naked in my head. I like you naked on this boat. I like you naked in a coat."

"Really, Sam?" She laughed, taking his hand and lifting to her feet. "Sam I am?"

"And I do not like green eggs and ham." Sam winced at his own terrible humor. "Man, my jokes are corny."

"The first step is acceptance, babe." Mercedes told him, patting his cheek. "I'll still humor you."

They walked back downstairs to their room and settled on their bed. Sam took off his pants and opened the sheets around Mercedes, laying his naked body on top of hers. Their limbs tangled in their self-made cocoon, ankles wrapped around ankles and fingers entwined together.

"So, when did you suddenly become Carlos Santana?" Sam joked, groaning when she shifted under him. "I thought you were still at that beginner's stage. Been practicing without me, huh?"

"I do a lot of things by myself when you're not around, Sam." She teased, smiling seductively. "Told you I was gonna learn it quickly. Now, you have to learn how to play the piano." Sam pouted his bottom lip and hid his face in her neck, shaking his head. Mercedes sucked her teeth at his childishness, nudging his heavy head off of her with a shrug . "It's not even that hard! I can teach you. You've already gotten most of the basics down since you already play an instrument. Plus, you have long fingers that are perfect for—"

"Fucking?" She moaned and bit her lip when two of his fingers suddenly slipped inside her.

"Mhmm!." She happily hummed, moving her hips in time to his slow and even strokes. Her body responded quickly, shuddering as she came, and fought to keep him close with soft clenches that pulled him deeper. She slowly drew his fingers out of her when she'd had her fill, and Sam licked his lips as he watched her rub them against her tongue and suckle them clean of her essence. "Mmm." She smacked her lips and hummed in delight. "I taste better on your fingers than on mine."

"See, you're gonna kill me if you keep talking like that." Sam smiled at her giggle.

"Guitar was a harder transition for me, though," she said, returning to their conversation. "My fingers are so short! Besides, I'm still only doing the easy stuff. That song was nothing but a bunch of chords. I can do a chord. Chords are easy."

"Chords are easy?" he scoffed, amused by her pompousness.

"Super easy. Easy like you." She parted her thighs and nudged him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist. She licked her lips when he grew firmer and lengthened against her pussy. "You're my sexual chord."

Sam snorted a laugh. "Your _sexual chord_? Really?" Mercedes suggestively wiggled her eyebrows, making him laugh again. "This is going to be the weirdest, freakiest engagement ever, isn't it?"

Mercedes rested a hand over her heart. "I solemnly promise to turn you out, Mr. Evans," she vowed with a wink. "All day, every day. Scout's honor."

Sam shook his head and kissed her for her adorableness. "I believe it, Evans. I believe it."

**O-O**

**Forgive any errors, please. This chapter is gargantuan! I will re-read it and revise as needed later on. Until then…..**

**What did you think? And please know that I'm far from done with this story and its many angsty layers, so I will continue writing. Hope it satisfied! **


	30. Chapter 29 Freedom (2 of 2)

**A/N: Did you miss me? I missed you guys! **

**First of all, I can't start a chapter after my summer hiatus without officially acknowledging the death of one of our own. RIP Cory. Your life and career shouldn't have ended with glee, but we are grateful that it allowed us to get to know such a beautiful actor and human being. Gleeks all over love you. **

**Secondly, Big congrats to Amber for her DWTS debut! She's going to be fabulous. I'll be voting from everyone's phone and computer as many times as I need to! **

**Lastly, this chapter is shorter and lighter, as requested! I've added bits that I personally thought were quite funny, so I hope you enjoy them. It ends on a heavier note, but the chapter as a whole is easier to digest than the last one. Hope you guys can forgive me, but there's a bit more smut in this one. I know some of my readers are smut sensitive. LOL **

**Love you guys! **

**KurlyQ**

**O-O**

Ever since Mercedes and Sam decided to say yes to each other's proposals, there seemed to be an exponential increase in their sex drive.

In hindsight, it was expected. After all, they were young, newly engaged, and had dealt with a lot of their 'under the sheets' issues last night. Special occasions always made couples go at it like ravenous bunnies, right? But Mercedes, being more acutely aware of her fiancé, suspected there was another culprit.

Namely, the new diamond and amethyst sparkler adorning her wedding finger.

The first time she'd noticed the effects of their new aphrodisiac, she was in the bathroom, moisturizing her skin after a much needed shower and shampoo. When she'd finished detangling her weave, Mercedes wrapped herself up in fluffy towels and proceeded to brush her teeth, humming a nameless tune to herself like she always did in the mornings. She gargled and bent over to spit, and when she rose, Sam stood at the doorway, watching her with a mischievous smile. Mercedes wiped her mouth and smiled back, beckoning him over with a crook of her finger. He quickly stepped behind her and hugged her waist, watching her loosen the turban around her head to set her hair free. Her soft, fragrant curls tumbled across his cheek, and he couldn't resist burying his nose in her hair to inhale the minty scent.

It was his shampoo. She'd stolen it from his counter top while he was taking his shower. He'd heard the soft creaks of her footsteps in the middle of his ritual exfoliation and grew excited, thinking that she had planned to join him for a bit of adult playtime in the tub. But when he peeked out to reach for her, his slick thief had already scampered away before he could corner her, and he immediately spotted the large gap where his Head & Shoulders bottle used to be. Sam only smiled and continued his scrub, deciding to give her time to freshen up.

After shower sex was one of his favorite kinds of sex. He had already concocted plans to interrogate his beautiful burglar thoroughly and intimately. It was the reason why he'd showed up at her doorway glistening and slick, dripping like he'd run through a thunderstorm.

She smelled like him, all over. Sam imagined the white foam of his shampoo sliding down her neck and covering the expanse of her back as she washed, marking her skin with his scent.

Mercedes tangled her left hand in his wet locks as he kissed her neck, and the blinding flicker of silver and purple under the fluorescent lights caught their attention. She met his gaze in the mirror, noting how his eyes had grown several shades darker, and watched as he pulled away the towel around her body to expose her breasts.

She seated herself atop the sink shortly after, decorating the tile floor with terrycloth, resting her ankles on an equally naked Sam's shoulders as he pumped himself between her thighs. Their handprint smudges and scratch marks were still imprinted in the fog of the mirror.

The second time started with Sam's curious inquiry about the rest of her lingerie as they were straightening up the room. Feeling playful, Mercedes made the impulsive decision to turn on some music and put on an impromptu sexy fashion show. The sensual pulse of Beyonce's _Naughty Girl_ guided her strut, and Sam crawled to the edge of the disheveled bed to watch her up close. Her lace and satin garments became progressively smaller and more transparent with each change, starting with an emerald green one piece teddy that emphasized her full breasts to a purple and black number that looked more like the torn remnants of a delicate wedding veil than clothing. It was classic in its design—a bra and boy short set— but the swinging clasps of the chain link garters added that extra hint of naughty that Sam loved on her.

With everyone else, Mercedes was an angel. He was the only one who had gotten to see the fiery vixen hidden behind the halo, and Sam fully intended to keep it that way.

Mercedes wouldn't model her voluptuous figure for anyone else, anyway.

"You know, this one matches your ring," he observed aloud, watching her adorned hand touch her exposed thigh. Almost immediately, the unquenchable fire in his gaze returned.

Mercedes had to clutch the headboard for dear life as he bounced her on her lap, taking her body like last night hadn't sated him. Her garter clips clanged together with every pull of her hips and clap of her bottom on his thighs. The stretch of him felt delicious. Sam took care to sit up on his knees and release her damaging grip near their climaxes, kissing her ring finger just before he held her wrists behind her back and begged her to scream his name. She clenched her fists in his firm hold, eager to cover her mouth and muffle her sound, but he held her more tightly and growled his assurances in her ear.

"Why are you holding back, darlin'? Hmm? There's no one here. Work your lungs." He caressed her throat until she bent her head back, panting against the corner of his mouth.

"People...outside...hear me," she whined against his mouth, voice hoarse from the fight to contain her ecstasy. The curtains flapped at that very moment, moved by the gust of wind from the open sliding doors. There was a faint murmur of deep voices amidst the chirping of birds and lapping of the water against the boat. "Baby, it's so good. I need to cover my..." Mercedes cried out when Sam pulled out and roughly shoved himself back inside her. "God! Sam! You fucking sadist!"

Sam didn't need to know what the word meant to know it was a title he liked. Her sex gripped his dick like a vice.

On closer listen, he casually surmised that the security guards were walking the grounds. Their damp, crunching footsteps grew louder and closer to their window. The couple were three levels up and safely tucked away from their view, but Sam was determined to have their new audience hear what they couldn't see.

He thrusted harder, toying with her left breast in his free hand until Mercedes shuddered against him. She was getting closer.

"Baby, talk to me. Make me..." She bit her lip and moaned low in her throat, bucking against the fingers that had traveled from her breast to flick her clitoris. Sam kissed her parted mouth and thrusted faster.

"Only little girls have to hide and keep quiet so their parents don't find out they're fucking. We're past that adolescent shit, aren't we baby?" She answered him with a strangled cry and a nod. His thumb idly ran down her windpipe, feeling the vibrations of her hums with each of his strokes. Pleased with her response, he kissed her lips again in gratitude. "You're my fiancée. My _woman_. Scream for me, sweetheart. Tell the world how good we are together."

It only took a gentle press to her stomach and a whisper of her name from his lips to undo her, and Mercedes hollered from her belly until the birds perched outside their sliding doors squawked and flew away in fright. Sam, huffing behind her, came shortly after, crying louder than her as he filled their second post-proposal condom. The searching footsteps outside grew fainter and farther away in the midst of the noise.

Sam could've sworn he overheard one of the guards say that their noise made the entire boat rock. That comment made him unusually proud to be engaged to such a well-trained vocalist.

Taking a few minutes to recover, Mercedes and Sam parted with several slow kisses and dressed in their robes, resuming their earlier task of bed-making. Thankfully, the fractures they'd caused in the bed frame were tiny and hidden under the fluffy linen. Hopefully, Motta estate security wouldn't investigate before they had the chance to leave.

By their third time together, Mercedes was absolutely convinced that the engagement ring held special powers. They were simply cuddling, front to front, discussing idle things when he took her hand and twirled it around her finger. It didn't bother her or hurt at all, but the intimate gesture did place a pause in their conversation. Whatever they were discussing didn't matter anymore. The bauble's mystic wonder had rendered her speechless, too.

Sam looked back and forth between the ring and her eyes, smiling until his irises disappeared in the crinkly creases of his lids, and leaned in to place soft kisses along the bridge of her nose. She hugged him tighter and nuzzled his lips, sighing contentedly as he slid down to her mouth and lingered there. Sam lifted her leg over his, pressing her back to keep her to his body, and a telling hardness grew and throbbed against her inner thigh. With her nod of consent, Sam slid on the second to last of their condoms and eased into her, watching her mouth gape and eyes widen as he filled her. Every push was slow and deliberate, easygoing in nature, coaxing an orgasm from her like a teasing caress. They chose to savor the penetration. The couple allowed their bodies to succumb to the moment, feeding the fire between them with intimate whispers of _I love yous_ and declarations of devotion. Her orgasm came like a rippling tide, coiling in her belly and easing from her in waves until the last of her small spasms subsided. Sam came soon after, a quivering mass of arms and legs as he embraced her, and kissed her forehead in gratitude. Before they both fell asleep, Mercedes was certain that she heard him mumble the words _my wife_ between breaths.

Belonging to someone, especially at eighteen, was a terrifyingly fantastic concept. Yet still, it felt right for them. Sam made it easy for her to give herself to him. And she, in turn, made sure to stake her claim over him whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Of all her church lessons, submission had been the hardest one to swallow. The word had always been presented by sexist, controlling males who made it seem more like modern day slavery than the workings of a marriage. Mercedes had resolved to never let her guard down. She would make sure to take care of herself first and correct any future spouse on who was in charge of their relationship. Of course, that was on the condition that she actually _wanted_ to get married. Not everyone could have a marriage like her parents or Sam's parents had. There weren't any thirty year anniversaries in her generation. Hell, five years was considered the "long haul."

Sam changed everything. If what they had was what God intended, then she could easily see herself with this man for years to come. She offered the best of herself to him, and he honored the offering for the gift it was. He fought to protect her, not dominate her. He was concerned without being controlling, loving without smothering. They gave each other space to grow and develop into their own people, but couldn't bear to spend a day apart from each other, as if they existed as one body. Mercedes knew that she was whole without him, but having him by her side amplified everything wonderful about life. Together, they were an unshakable force, and Mercedes had made up her mind a summer ago that she would fight tooth and nail to keep the glorious experience of their togetherness.

Instead, she'd let him go out of fear of the unfamiliar, telling him that friendship was for the best. She was stubborn and foolish then.

Now, she was just as stubborn, but about the right things. This time, her will was to keep him. Her body was his, just as his body belonged to her. And that is what she believed submission truly meant. Submission was to trust another with our most precious possession, the gift of self, and allow them to care for it in the same manner we look after ourselves. It is how two people truly become one. The vow to be responsible for one another is transformative, and God sees and considers them as a singular being in their new covenant.

Sam was her responsibility now. Everyone on this earth would know that after today. Her engagement ring would never see a day away from her finger. And though she would be the only one to prove her surrender in name, he would be hers and hers alone after their wedding day.

An hour after their little nap, while she was nestled against him, seemed like the perfect time to remind him. He stretched and woke up to the pleasant sting of his fiancée's affections, tangling his fingers in her hair as he stirred. Never once did he make an effort to push her away.

"You know, if you bite my neck again, I'm gonna have to start wearing turtlenecks. Do you want me to die of heat stroke?" Sam joked, smoothing back Mercedes's hair as she nibbled love bites all over his skin. She smiled a small cruel smile against the tiny reddened bumps she'd made.

"No, I want everyone to see them. You're mine," she replied, nipping his Adam's apple. "No one else can touch you."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam smiled, enjoying her playful aggression. "Do I get to mark you then?"

Mercedes wiggled her engagement ring in his face as she kissed along his jaw. "You already did, silly."

Sam groaned and gently lifted her chin, guiding her gaze to his own. "So, if I get a ring, can I keep my skin?"

Mercedes's eyes brightened at the suggestion. "Would you wear one? That's such a great idea! We can go pick one out today if you want!"

His brow rose in surprise. "I was kidding. Guys don't wear engagement rings." Her face fell instantly, and the sight gripped his heart. "But I'd wear one, for you. When can we go?"

Mercedes smiled and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. "Later," she said in a low seductive growl, peppering his face with gleeful kisses. "Much later."

"How much later exactly?" Sam asked in a moan, already feeling the stirrings in his belly from her attention. Her sex appeal would be the death of him. "You know they're gonna come looking for us soon. We can't hide forever."

She pressed one last kiss to his lips, then eyed him in question. "Them?" Sam nodded toward the door. "Oh right. I forgot we weren't alone."

"I know. We have been in our own little world these past few hours." He chuckled warmly. "But all these Motta symbols around the room bring me back to reality."

"Ugh, I know." Mercedes wrinkled her nose as she glanced around the room. Even the paper borders on the walls bore tiny M's. "I don't care how famous I get or how much money I make in the future, I refuse to put my name everywhere. Mariah and Prince can keep that. I won't be that kind of diva."

"No. Just the kind of diva that keeps her man blinged out," Sam teased, wiggling his naked ring finger. "Just so you know, diamonds are a guy's best friend, too."

"You'll take cubic zirconia in sterling silver and love it. I'm nobody's sugar mama," She answered sassily, knitting their fingers together as she kissed his knuckle. In her heart, she was only kidding. Being the daughter of a generous dentist who adored his baby girl did have its financial perks, and she held no qualms about sharing it with the love of her life. "We'll go looking after we're done."

"I thought I was gonna be a kept man. Damn." Sam chuckled. "And after we're done with _what_ exactly?"

"After..." She pressed soft kisses up his cheek until she could nip his earlobe, running her nails down his sides as she blew in his ear. "We make good use of our last condom."

"I love the way you think, future Mrs. Evans. I swear we're on the same page." Sam grinned, kissing the shoulder nearest to his lips. He palmed her backside and generously squeezed. "What position? Ladies choice."

"On my side...you behind me," she said between pecks down his neck. "Holding my leg up. I know you like it when you can—"

"Behind you?" Their eyes met at Sam's question. Almost immediately, she looked away. She knew what he was asking, and he knew that she understood. "I mean, sure. I'm good if you're good. Are you?"

"Yeah, I am. But, I don't think that you are." She sighed. "I guess we need to talk about some things first, right? About last night?"

"Alright." Sam gently tucked her head underneath his chin and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He needed to feel her close to him if she was going to share anything heavy. "Shoot. I'm all ears."

"Hug me tighter? Please?" Mercedes sighed in pleasure when his arms squeezed around her. "Yeah, just like that."

"You don't ever have to beg for that, Mercy. You know that." Sam stroked her hair and remained silent, enjoying the weight of her on his chest until she was ready to speak. Internally, he found humor in the peaceful quiet between them. They were both big mouths by nature. But together, in moments like these, they were perfectly content with not talking at all. There were no empty spaces to fill with words. Being in each other's presence quelled the awkwardness.

"It was the suddenness, you know?" She began, rubbing her forehead against his beard. He nuzzled her back, acknowledging her words with a hum. Just knowing Sam was close made Mercedes feel braver, even if he was the one hearing her confession. "I wasn't ready for it. I didn't know what you were going to do. You didn't tell me. "

"But you used to love that. The surprise, I mean. I guess I kind of just...got lost in you, in us. I forgot for a while." Sam gently kissed her head, then pulled back to meet her eyes. "I'm so sorry I scared you."

Mercedes kissed his lips, sighing as they parted. "I know you didn't mean to. I wasn't ready for...how different sex was going to be, either. I didn't think that a small move like that would make me feel so out of control. After everything, I just...I really need to feel like I'm in control, Sam. I need to call the shots."

"I can dig that. And just so you know, I'm a size small in handcuffs." Sam teased, wiggling his eyebrows. She chuckled against his neck, kissing him in gratitude for the timely humor. "So, how should this work? Do I just talk before I move? If that's what you need, I can slow it down."

Mercedes briefly considered his offer before shaking her head. "No. I don't need you to spell out everything when we make love. I guess I'm just asking... I want..." She paused, trying to figure out the best way to explain it to him. "I need us to talk before we do anything differently in bed. Okay?"

"Alright." Sam nodded, bringing her back to rest on his chest. "No new moves that aren't Mercy approved. Got it."

"And maybe...maybe we should start out slow, then speed it up. Don't just spring it on me." She added.

Sam nodded again, easily accepting her terms. "I can still smack that ass though, right?" he smiled, caressing the curve of her backside. "Is that off limits, too?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes at the request, but part of her felt relieved that he had taken her demands so well. "Yes, Sam. You will still have unlimited ass-smacking privileges."

Sam threw a victorious fist in the air, and the giggles escaped her like they always did during his antics. Her laughter faded into another comfortable silence, and the grip of their arms and legs tightened around each other.

"Sam, why is this so easy?"

"Because I love you. You're going to be my wife. I can't be happy if you're not happy, in bed or out of bed," he answered matter of factly. "You know that, right?"

Her lips trembled into a smile, pressing tightly together to suppress her happy tears. "Yes," she answered, happiness evident in her voice. "I love you, too." After a minute of mulling over her thoughts, she added. "And I trust you."

"That's good. Trust is always good."

"No, I mean." She straightened and sat up on her elbows, hovering above him. "I really trust you, with everything. Baby, can I share something with you?"

Sam frowned, growing concerned by her grave tone, but nodded anyway. "What is it?"

"I want to tell you what happened to me that Friday, in my own words." She watched his face carefully for any telling expressions of disgust or disinterest. To Sam's credit, he didn't waver. "Will you listen?"

"I'll always listen to you, Mercy," he promised, taking her adorned hand and kissing her knuckle. With a resolute nod, Mercedes kept his grip and gently brought his arm around her, settling her back against his front. Sam hugged her waist and molded his body against hers, ready to hear her. Mercedes reached up to cup his chin and press his face to hers, nuzzling his rougher cheek with her smoother one. She took a breath, sandwiched his protruding knee between her thighs, and told her story more truthfully than she'd ever remembered telling it. She didn't spare him the dark details or make an effort to protect him by sugarcoating her feelings during the tense moments, even when he shifted uncomfortably during the part when Donovan lifted her blouse and touched her breasts. She'd even told him the embarrassing truth of her body's violent reactions to his unwelcome touch, tearing up a bit as she recalled the disgusting discovery of her wetness. He hugged her tighter, breaking his silence for the first time during her tale with an assuring word that it was a natural biological response she shouldn't feel guilty about.

Mercedes had heard the same speech from Bee and her mother, but thanked him for his support with a loving kiss regardless.

Near the end of her story, growing closer to Sam's valiant arrival, she revealed how vulnerable she felt being forced to lay on her stomach while Donovan pressed his penis against her. It wasn't the first time Sam had heard this particular detail of her attack—he was present during all of the police reports-but he found, in this particular instance, that it was the first time he truly understood her perspective. Until then, he'd never even thought to consider the position she was in—literally and figuratively. Being bent over, forced to lie down, feeling someone lie on top of you, pressing their nakedness against you without your consent...

It was humiliating.

No wonder she'd smacked him last night. He was only hearing about it after the fact and he felt like punching something, too.

"...then, I just shut down. It wasn't until I heard your car pull up that I finally snapped back into myself and became present again. When I heard your voice near the truck, it reminded me that I needed to fight. It reminded me that I could escape." Mercedes nervously nibbled her lip, focusing on their joined hands. "Sam? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." He released a long, weary breath, processing all that she'd told him. "I'm taking it all in."

Mercedes patiently waited, fiddling with his fingers to give him time. After a few moments, she felt him kiss her cheek, then her chin, and the damp trickle of his tears slid down her throat as he rested there. Feeling him cry prompted a few tears from her as well.

"You are such a strong woman," he whispered, clearly anguished for her. "And I am so happy that you fought that bastard."

"I wanted to live, Sam. I chose life. " she quietly explained, blindly reaching up to wipe his tear-stained face. "I couldn't let him take me. I just...I couldn't."

"You didn't. I'm so glad," Sam answered, squeezing her tighter. Mercedes turned over to face him, and Sam eagerly took her lips in a relieved, passionate kiss. "Can I make love to you, Mercedes? Can we do this over? I want to give it to you right, sweetheart. Now that I know...can we?"

The way he asked her, so kindly and lovingly, made her heart flutter. His thumb wiped her left cheek dry as she nodded, and wordlessly, she turned over on her stomach and arched her back. Sam watched the covers slide off her body as her hips rose, revealing her naked brown thighs and backside, poised in the air as if erected on a pedestal. She gathered her hair and swung it over one shoulder, revealing her gentle smile and trusting gaze to him before they disappeared in the cocoon of her folded arms.

And there she lay before him, sightless and submissive, giving him permission and entrusting him with her body without a single word of direction. What had he ever done in his meager life to deserve such a gift?

"Mercedes..." he whispered, in longing and awe, gently running his fingers down the slope of her spine. Slowly, he rose to his knees and positioned himself behind her, bending down to kiss each of her toes and the thickened padding of her soles. When Mercedes felt his lips graze the backs of her knees, she trembled and eased herself down, laying completely prostrate before him as his kisses traveled over the backs of her thighs and across her bottom. Sam reached for the stereo remote as he caressed her hip and side, scrolling through the numbers until the song he wanted started to play. The light tremors of a flute playing caught her attention, raising her head, and when Sam's lips slid up her spine to rest her shoulder as the music played, she wept silently to herself from the utter perfection of the moment.

Michael Jackson's _Break of Dawn _filled the spaces of silence between them as she lifted herself up on her elbows, arching into his hands as he reached around to cup her breasts. Mercedes leaned back against him and covered his hands with hers, rubbing against his fingers as they circled her nipples. The pop singer voiced all the things they'd communicated in action, and on start of the first verse, Mercedes parted her knees and reached back to ease Sam's penis inside her. He gently squeezed her wrist to halt her for only an instant, taking the time to grab their last condom from the night table and quickly slide it on. After another gentle squeeze to signal he was ready, she gripped his hardness again, and met his body halfway for their first slow penetration.

**Hold my hand, feel the touch, of your body cling to mine**

**You and me, makin' love, all the way through another night**

**I remember, you and I, walking through the park at night**

**Kiss and touch, nothing much, let it blow just touch and go**

"Sam..." She whispered, trembling when he kissed the corner of her mouth. She closed her eyes as he held her chin, allowing him to turn her face to his and take her mouth. His lips gently prodded for every whimper and response, working to earn her pleasure. He sighed when she parted her lips and granted him uninhibited access. Sam massaged the hardened tips of her nipples as their tongues married and danced, and Mercedes slowly eased their joined bodies back down to the bed until his full weight bore down on her.

"Mercedes..." he whispered into her scalp, burying his nose in her hair. "I love you, baby." Their hips moved together, easing back and pushing forward in rhythm. Her wetness dribbled down her inner thighs, sticky and thick as resin, adhering Sam's skin to hers. Mercedes tried to muffle her moans with her balled fists, but when Sam leaned in to rest on her shoulder and softly suckle her earlobe, they grew louder and needier.

"I love you, too." She whined, biting the sheets instead, dragging them through her teeth from the tortuous pleasure of his slow thrusts. "I love you so much, Sam. This feels so good."

**Love me more, never leave me alone, my house of love**

**People talk, people say what we have is just a game**

**Oh, I'll never let you go, come here girl**

**Just got to make sweet love 'til the break of dawn**

"No one's ever gonna hurt you like that again, Mercy. You hear me? Not while I'm around," Sam firmly declared in her ear, increasing the force of his hips ever so slightly. "No one's gonna hurt my woman like that ever again."

"Sam..." His quiet promise overwhelmed her senses.

"Do you trust me, sweetheart?" She nodded into her pillow. He pressed his forehead against the back of her head, holding her waist steady as he continued to push inside her.

"Yes I do, Sam...God, yes..."

**I don't want the sun to shine, I wanna make love**

**It's this magic in your eyes and in my heart**

**I don't know what I'm gonna do, I can't stop lovin' you**

**I won't stop 'til break of dawn, makin' love**

"Bend this leg for me, Sweetheart." Mercedes followed his loving command, bending her left knee and sliding it underneath her body. Sam slid his hand down the curve of her thigh, delighting in her shudder.

"I can't help it," She whimpered, explaining her violent reaction to his touch.

"I hope that you can never help it," he answered, kissing her shoulder as he gripped her calf. "We're gonna turn on our side. Is that okay? I promise you'll like it."

Mercedes nodded eagerly, already loving everything he'd done so far. Unlike last night's swift movements, Sam took his time with her, keeping her against him with an arm around her stomach as they turned. After shifting a bit to settle into place, Sam tucked her foot behind his thigh. Mercedes swiftly reached between her legs to slide his hardness back inside her. The change in position, coupled with the slipperiness that accompanied her first orgasm, had disconnected them.

Once he was back inside her, Sam gripped the inside of her thigh, holding her open, and watched as he penetrated her. He would never get enough of the sight. It was addictive.

"You're addictive," he whispered in her ear, continuing his thought aloud. "Such a beautiful, sexy addiction, Mercedes. When we're married, I expect a fix at least four times a day. Can you handle that?"

Mercedes smiled, hearing the teasing tone of his question. "That depends," she replied, short of breath from their lovemaking. "Do I get to be on top at least three of those four times?" She grunted when he pushed deeper inside her, then moaned when the hand around her stomach snuck between her legs.

"Divas always have to be on top, don't they?" he chuckled, breathing just as hard as he stroked her clit. "Do I get to play with your breasts when they jiggle for me? Lord knows I can't see that sight and keep from touching."

"You can touch any old thing you'd like to, Sam Evans," she purred, clawing her pillow as her second orgasm approached. "Baby, I think I'm coming."

She expected him to release his grip and allow her to close her legs. Instead, he held on, determined to keep her as spread open as possible.

"Come just like this, Mercy," he pleaded in her ear. "I want to watch you tremble. I want to remember you like this."

His words already had her shuddering.

**Hold my hand, feel the sweat**

**Yes, you've got me nervous yet**

**Let me groove, let me soothe, let me take you on a cruise**

**There's imagination I bet you've never been there before**

**Have you ever wanted to dream about those places you've never know**

"Deeper, Sam." Sam pushed in and held, pressing her hips firmly against his at her request. "Yes, just like that."

"It's good, baby?" he asked, drawing out to push back in as deeply as possible.

"So, so good, Sam." Mercedes reached back to run her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp through her lengthy groan. "Nice and deep."

Sam grinned and pulled out, teasing her by rubbing the head of his cock against her opening. "Like that?"

"Ugh! No." Mercedes complained, squirming and rocking against him. "Put it back in."

"What, you don't like this?" Sam questioned, feigning ignorance of the disapproving glare she shot him. "C'mon, you know I like to play with you."

"Do you?" Mercedes reached down to grip him, twisting her fist around his sensitive head. "Well, I can play, too. Don't tempt me."

Sam groaned in pleasure and guided himself back to her center, easing back inside her. "Okay! No more playing. Man, you're such a good cock tease."

It was Mercedes's turn to feign ignorance. "Who, me? A tease?" She smiled, glancing at him. Sam chuckled and kissed her, happy to see she was up to being playful.

"Yes, you." He smiled back, rubbing his nose against hers. "Fuckin' sexy little tease I'm engaged to."

Her pouted lips rubbed against his, enjoying their closeness, then parted in surprise when he gripped her bottom and slammed inside her.

"Oh, fuck." Her eyes rolled back as she shuddered. Sam resumed his clit teasing, rubbing faster and harder when he sensed her orgasm approaching.

"Sam, I'm...God, I'm gonna...You..." Mercedes bit her lip and held her breath, gripping his arm for dear life as her spine stiffened. She came with his shortened breaths in her ear, bucking violently against him with every spasm. He left her clit to grab her waist, steadying her convulsions to watch her come.

She was sweaty, heaving and glorious in her high. As a lover of the arts, Sam dreamt of one day traveling the world and capturing its greatest sights, in portrait or painting or any medium that captured its beauty the best. But in this moment, watching the woman who held his heart in her petite body cling to his arm for dear life and release herself, Sam knew that his eyes were the only medium he needed. He was too selfish to share with a camera lens or canvas.

Mercedes tried to squeeze her thighs together during her peak, but Sam's grip tightened to keep her open, and he couldn't contain his delighted laugh when he'd caught the moment her frothy essence oozed out of her and coated his cock. From their angle, he could even watch the way her sex held him, pulling him inches deeper with each clench and carefully releasing him with every break in between pulsations. The sweetest sigh of relief left her lips when it was over, and Sam buried his lips into the sweaty curve of her neck, tasting the saltiness of her with flicks of his tongue.

"So pretty," he whispered against her skin. "You're the most gorgeous thing when you're come, darlin'."

**Break of dawn (Break of dawn), there's no sun up in the sky**

**Break of dawn (Break of dawn), I can see it in your eyes**

**Break of dawn (Break of dawn), girl you've got to understand**

**It's the way that I love you, let me show you I'm your man**

**Break of dawn**

Her tremors calmed to shivers, bringing her back from euphoria to settle into her skin. Mercedes gently squeezed the hand under her knee, bringing it to her lips as she tucked her foot around his calf. Her toes lazily slid along the hairy flesh there, enjoying the tickling prickle of the friction. Goosebumps erupted all over her skin, like they always did when Sam was anywhere close to her. Every part of her body felt drawn to him.

"Touch me?" she begged, resting his kissed hand over her bare breast. He gently squeezed the soft flesh, then moved to her other breast, softly tweaking her nipple. When his fingers slid down her sternum, she whimpered, arching toward his touch. His exploration ended over her belly, drawing slow circles around her navel with his finger. Mercedes reached back to cup his cheek, pressing his face against hers as he touched her, and an intimate calm fell over them in their mutual caresses.

"I don't want to wake up from this," she told him, gently raking his stubble with her nails. "Not ever."

"We're not dreaming, I swear," he answered with a smile, quickly kissing her ear. Mercedes pulled his arm tighter around her anyway, determined to hold on to the wonderful feeling of his presence.

"Is this going to change? Are we?" She asked fearfully. Sam rubbed her stomach, hoping to calm the sudden tightness there. "This is too wonderful, Sam. I'm so scared that you're going to disappear again."

"I am never going to stop chasing you," Sam promised, wrapping both arms around her to pull her to him. Mercedes squeezed him back just as tightly, welcoming the pressure. "I promise I'll be wherever you are."

Mercedes closed her eyes and nodded, repeating his promise in her head until they were louder than her doubts. "I'm keeping you. Wherever I go, I'll always keep you."

**Let's not wait, the sun is out, let's get up and let's get out**

**It's the day, a brand new day, let's both go outside and play**

**Let us walk down the park, makin' love 'til it's dark**

**Let me move, let me soothe, 'til the break of dawn and you know it's true, oh**

They were in the exact same position on the evening of her attack, when they coupled desperately to forget everything that Donovan had destroyed in a matter of minutes. That day was awkward and feverish, fueled by the wrong feelings. Their lovemaking had broken them open.

Now, secure in his embrace, Mercedes felt a sense of completion. They had come a very long way, indeed.

She turned to look at him in that moment, catching the faraway thoughtful look he wore before he realized that he was being watched. It had been only a few seconds pause, but she knew that he was thinking about the same day that she was.

"I know what's on your mind," she declared softly, looking into his eyes as she brushed her thumb across his cheek. "It's one of my super powers."

He nodded, confirming her suspicions. "We've been through a lot together, haven't we?" he answered. "I'd much rather hold you like this after tonight, though. It was...better."

"Much better." Mercedes agreed, kissing him softly. "So much better than then."

The couple eyed each other's lips for a moment, leaning closer, until their mouths met and pressed together. Sam puckered first, adding the necessary pressure for a kiss, before Mercedes responded in kind and ran her fingers through his hair, kissing him more deeply. Feeling her tongue flick against his, Sam let go of her waist and climbed on top of her, settling between her legs. He heard her sigh contentedly for the second time that hour, felt the whoosh of air from her nose tickle his upper lip, and knew that there wasn't anywhere else on earth he'd rather be than in that moment, enjoying the private warmth of soft thighs that willingly parted for him. This was his future. This awe-inspiring human being consumed his whole world.

Mercedes spread her hands over his back, sliding down his damp skin, and silently compared the heat of his body against hers to the heat of their kisses.

Sam pulled back to trace the cupid bow of her upper lip with his tongue, and with a crooked smile, he nudged her chin up to take her mouth at a new angle. She decided immediately. Even with a thorough knowledge of his many endowments, their kisses never failed to make her feverish.

She reached down to cup him, ready and eager to please him with a few skills of her own, when a chorus of fists pummeled their room door.

"Guys, it's like one in the afternoon! Aren't you done yet?!"

"Come on! Get some sunlight! Breathe some fresh air! EAT! You're gonna die of starvation after all that screw..uh, I mean..._rigorous activity!_"

When their only answers were faint feminine giggles from inside, Erin and Sugar pounded the door again.

"C'mon guys! You've got to be done by now!" Sugar yelled, stomping her feet in annoyance. "All of us are going across the lake to barbeque and spend some time together before everyone graduates! You _have_ to come!"

"Oh!" Erin gasped suddenly, eyes watering. "They _are _graduating, aren't they?"

"Not now, girl! Stay strong! No tears unless absolutely necessary," Sugar instructed, hastily wiping her friend's cheeks. "I want everyone at our barbeque, and by George, I WILL have everyone at our barbeque!" Catching the faint squeak of bed springs, Sugar yelled her next sentence for the couple to hear. "I'll smoke you out of there if I have to!"

Sam and Mercedes reluctantly pulled apart, glaring at the door with a sigh.

"We've been discovered," Sam declared, smirking and kissing Mercedes's temple. "Time to go back to the real world."

Mercedes continued to glare at the door, thinking all kinds of evil thoughts, until a defiant, naughty smirk spread across her face. She met Sam's curious expression, and with a wink, she swiftly rolled them over and straddled his waist. Sam grabbed her arms in shock at first, then grinned when he realized their new position.

"I'm not quite done with you yet, _fiancé,_" she seductively whispered, careful of the ears pressed against their door. "They're going to have to wait. And you, Mr. Evans, are going to have to be really, really quiet."

"Why?" he asked excitedly, breathing a bit faster than before. Mercedes replied with a soft kiss to his chin, then his shoulder, traveling further and further down his body until she disappeared beneath the sheets. When he felt her hands slide off his condom, Sam struggled to breathe.

"Oh," he sighed softly, lips quivering. "_Oh!_" Sam quickly covered his mouth, careful to obey her command to be quiet. The last thing he wanted was for her to stop what she was doing.

Daring to peek, he slowly lifted the sheet over his lap, biting his lip at the sight of Mercedes's gorgeous mouth swallowing his dick whole. She looked right into his eyes as she gave his swollen head a savoring lick, and Sam strained to contain his whimper when he said, "That's why we have to be quiet."

Mercedes pulled the covers back down, giggling under the sheet and returning to her task. Sam tenderly cupped the outline of her head atop the covers as it bobbed up and down. Barbeque and friends be damned. Morning head beat social time any day.

"We're...umm..." Sam mouthed a silent _"shit!", _groaning in his throat when he felt his future wife draw one of his balls in her mouth and suckle gently. "We're gonna have to meet you guys there!" he answered, satisfied that his voice sounded relatively normal.

"Okay fine, ten minutes!" Sugar huffed, dragging a pouting Erin behind her as they stomped off to another part of the ship.

When he was sure they were gone, Sam released the pleased groan he'd been holding back and pulled the sheets off of his lap, meeting Mercedes's grinning face.

"That's payback for making those guards hear me scream." She chuckled, running her tongue up the length of his hardness.

"Me? That was _my_ fault? You were the one begging me to make you!"

"Make me cum, not make me wail like a banshee, Sam!"

Sam shrugged, leaning back against the headboard as she pressed kisses around his cock head. "I don't even know what a banshee is, but if it sounds half as sexy as you did, then sorry that I'm not sorry."

Mercedes paused in her task, lifting her eyes in contemplation. "You know, I don't know what a banshee is, either." She met his eyes and smiled. "But I'm pretty sure it's nowhere near as sexy as me."

Sam smiled back, tapping her nose. "I'm one hundred and ten percent sure that's true, sweetheart." His finger slid over her lips, and Mercedes playfully leaned in to nip him.

"Hey!"

"I imagine banshees bite too, Mr. Evans. Watch your every move," she joked, growling and baring teeth. "Besides, we only have a couple of minutes before we have an audience again, and you haven't given me what I wanted."

"And what is that exactly?" He watched her eyebrows raise, staring brazenly at his erection. When she pushed against it and it sprung back to bop her nose, Sam laughed, enjoying her look of surprise. She stuck her tongue out at him, feigning anger, before she broke out into a smile and reluctantly chuckled at her own expense. Sex between them was always fulfilling, but it wasn't for the reason either of them had expected when they'd started sleeping together. It was the little moments like these, the comfort and ease between them in the intimate moments, that made all the difference.

"Obviously you can't handle it, Evans," he challenged, smirking as he used her future surname. "I'm too much man for you."

"That sounds like a challenge, Evans. You know how I feel about those," she shot back, spreading her lips over his member to swallow him. The move stole Sam's retort. She watched his tongue run over his quivering lips, mouthing silent obscenities, and smiled in satisfaction. Mercedes moaned around his flesh as it tightened and pulsed, shooting spurts of warm seed down her throat like she'd wanted. She ran her manicured nail down his softening erection as she eased him from her mouth, enjoying the way he shook and arched toward her hand.

Sam was still red and panting when she declared, "I think I'm too much woman for you, Sammy."

He could only smile and nod at her, too breathless to verbally agree.

**O-O**

Their ten minutes turned to twenty, then forty-five, before the glee crew grew antsy. The buzz and weariness had worn off from their early morning festivities in the mansion, and Quinn's suggestion for a lakeside barbeque seemed like the perfect way to end their prom weekend. Unfortunately, Sugar insisted that everyone had to be there, and her only two late guests were holding up their fun times. As much as she loved the idea of love, especially for two of her closest friends, its reality was starting to annoy her.

"It's nearly two in the afternoon! How long could they _possibly_ keep going?" Sugar whined, staring at pink and white Rolex in annoyance. "Don't they need, like, a water break or something?"

"Oh, I'm sure they're fine." Santana smirked knowingly, lounging on a white chaise on the boat's lower deck. "Sam was hella thirsty, but what he wanted can't be found in any store."

"Unless they started bottling essence a la Cedes and no one told me." Puck laughed next to her, stealing her glass of lemonade and downing it in one sitting. "My dude would be their best customer."

"Must you two be so crude?" Quinn coolly criticized as she stood near the railing, giving them a cursory look of disdain with a tilt of her shades before returning her attentions to the water. "They're happy and back together. Did you really think a couple of hours would be enough time to celebrate?"

"We didn't need a whole day to celebrate our reunion, sugar lips." Puck smiled wickedly, waggling his eyebrows. "We hit it hard and fast, true Puckerman style."

Quinn glanced at him and laughed dismissively, waving away his suggestions. "_Fast_ being the operative word, one minute man."

"OOOOOHH!" The boys chorused and clapped, pausing their game of shuffleboard on the deck to high five Quinn.

"She called you out, Puck! Retrace your steps. I'm pretty sure you dropped your dignity around here somewhere!" Artie teased, wheeling over to punch his arm. "And speaking of dropping things, why can't we just forget them and start the barbeque? I am _fiendin'_ for some burgers!"

"Arthur! No!" Erin insisted, walking up to wrap her arms around Artie's shoulders and kiss his cheek. "We're all supposed to celebrate together! We can't have an end of summer party without the whole crew!"

"But Rin-Tin, I'm starving!" Artie pouted pathetically. "It's been, like, an _hour_ since we've eaten!"

"How you're not morbidly obese already is beyond me." Sugar sniffed, sipping a diamond encrusted champagne flute full of sparkling water from her seat next to Santana.

"It's the wheels. They keep me buff." Artie answered, flexing his biceps. Erin squeezed the small bulge of muscle, oohing and ahhing at her new boyfriend's strength. They'd made it official at the mansion party, when Artie wheeled her into a quiet room and declared his feelings after a dousing of liquid courage. Erin, without a drop of alcohol in her system, confessed that she felt the same. It was her first real romantic relationship with a boy.

"Yeah? You like that?" Artie smiled, pulling her into his lap. Erin pretended to faint from the strength of his embrace, fanning herself, and Artie couldn't resist kissing her plump freckled cheek. Erin made him feel like a real boyfriend, not a charity case or a stand-in until she could find something better. She treated him like she really wanted them to last. She put in the effort, showering him with affection like _she_ was the one in danger of losing _him_.

If his legs worked, he'd be standing two inches taller.

"My, aren't we cozy?" Tina teased, eyes flitting between their smiling faces. Erin blushed at her teasing, but made no effort to leave Artie's lap. In fact, she hugged his shoulders and snuggled against him, resting against his shoulder. Artie preened, lifting his chin in pride.

"I'll say." Mike agreed aloud. "It's almost like they're dating."

"You're _dating_?" Joe exclaimed, interrupting his afternoon tan out on the deck to fist bump his buddy. "Dude, congrats! Since when?"

"Yeah, since when?" Brittany questioned, more curious than jealous as she perched on her girlfriend's lap. "And since when is your name Arthur?!"

"Since I was born, my blonde and clueless ex. As for the dating..." He caught Erin's eyes, and they both grinned. "Since last night, in one of the mansion bedrooms."

"Aw shit, really?" Finn complained, tossing his shuffleboard staff in frustration. "Is everybody getting laid but me?!"

"FINN!"

"NO! We're not sleeping together!"

"What? Really?!"

Rachel, Erin, and Artie's exclamations rang in all at once.

"What do you mean _really_, Artie? Not everyone in a relationship has to have sex!" Rachel insisted. "I'll have you know that I believe in the old adage made famous by the great Nietzsche that says 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' If we refrain from indulging in the physical then, in theory, our mental and spiritual will become more in tune." Rachel explained, frustrated that her boyfriend hadn't chimed in by then. "I thought you agreed with me, Finn!"

"You can't just give a guy one taste of the promised land then shut him off until the second coming of Christ!" Finn argued. Rachel gasped at his religious insensitivity. "You know, figuratively speaking."

"You know what Finn Prudence Hudson, I feel like I don't even know who you are anymore!"

Kurt and Blaine, fresh from a swim, came on deck at that very moment and nearly choked on their smoothies. "_Prudence?" _They laughed, with Kurt uncharacteristically snorting in between fits.

"It's...a family name." Finn blushed, fluffing his polo collar and clearing his throat to reclaim the base in his voice. "It's a strong family name. Besides Rachel, I'm pretty sure that Nietzsche isn't the poster child for mental health. He caught syphilis, wrote a bunch of insane crap, almost sacrificed his life for a horse, and then died. Is that what you want for us?! SYPHILLIS AND INSANITY?!"

"Well, at least he was married! He was committed to someone! They had a ring and a wedding and the whole nine before he even got to _see _her naked! Even a mad genius knows the value of an invested relationship!"

"We are invested! What the hell do I have to do, put an engagement ring on your finger and propose to you to get a HANDJOB?! Well fine, Rachel! MARRY ME!"

Rachel gave a strangled gasp and covered her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and watered, glistening with joy, and Finn immediately realized his error. Unfortunately, he knew it was far too late to correct it.

"You...want to marry me, Finn?" Rachel softly smiled, bouncing on her toes.

"I...um...well..." All Finn could wish for at that moment was a spontaneous black hole, one that would suddenly appear on the ground beneath his feet and suck him up into oblivion.

"OH FINN!" Rachel jumped in his arms and wrapped her short arms and legs around his tall frame, clinging to his stiff form like a koala to a tree branch. "I love you so much! We're getting married!"

"We're...getting married?" Finn asked in bewilderment, looking toward his friends in horror. When she pulled back and punched his arm, he snapped out of it, smiling awkwardly. "I mean, yay, we're getting married!" He lamely cheered, waving his fists.

"Yay!" Rachel cheered back, rocking excitedly in his arms. "I'm gonna make you so happy. You'll see. Our lives are gonna be perfect! Do you prefer mint and white or blush and peach for wedding colors? Oh never mind, I'll take care of that. You just stay adorable, fiancé!" She kissed his cheek, jumped down, and took off, running upstairs to a higher deck. "I have to call my dads. They'll be so excited!"

The glee crew watched her as she left, then slowly turned to a dumbstruck Finn, wearing the same shocked expression he was.

"Guys, I don't even know what just happened." He insisted, lifting his hands in surrender. "I just nod and look pretty. She does all the talking."

Thankfully, the odd mood was interrupted by the presence of their two absentee friends.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Mercedes greeted happily, practically skipping down the stairs. She made the mistake of jumping off the last step, and regretted the decision immediately when the ache from last night's activities coursed through her hips. She leaned to the side and groaned, massaging her sides. Tina and Santana eyed her as she walked toward them and smirked knowingly at each other from across the room, recognizing the familiar limp from personal experience. Artie and Puck joined in with secret smiles of their own, realizing that their boy's walk was worse than Mercedes' as he followed behind her.

"Hope we didn't keep you waiting too long!" Sam chirped, lovingly rubbing his fiancée's back.

The blissful couple didn't even realize how ridiculous they'd looked at the moment. Mercedes's neck was black and blue with hickeys, barely covered by the heavy amount of concealer she'd slathered on to hide them. Her eyes were puffy and slightly pink from the lack of sleep, and her lips looked like they'd been freshly pumped with a booster of Botox. Her bottom lip was especially telling, indented with the obvious markings of teeth from their rough kisses.

Sam appeared to be just as love worn as she was. His neck looked like a patch of hives, red and angry skin covered with love bites trailing down to the expanse of chest peeking through his button down shirt. The bandage over Sam's stitches clung to his forehead by the last of its adhesive. The faint outline of a handprint covered his left cheek like an unfortunate birthmark, and tiny scratch marks crisscrossed along the sides of his neck. One of the tiny cuts still beaded with fresh blood.

They were both heaving and shiny, covered in a fresh sheen of sweat so heavy that one could only assume that they'd either just come from an intense workout or had been in the sun too long. Unfortunately, in such small quarters, everyone had heard the click of their room door and knew that they had just left their air conditioned room to come on deck. And they hadn't been outside that long, which meant...

The bashful, heated glances exchanged between the two had answered for them. Vigorous workout, indeed. And the amused silence of everyone around them alerted the couple of their discovery.

"Well it's about _time_! I thought you two would never leave that room! What the hell were you doing in there so long? Don't you take breaks?! And why do you two look like you've been in an MMA fight?" Sugar blurted out, greeting them without filter.

Erin's sudden scream frightened them all. "OMIGOSH, YOUR HAND!"

Mercedes raised her hand, curiously glancing at it, before she'd realized what Erin had spotted. All her plans to surprise them with her and Sam's big announcement had been shot to hell.

"Oh yeah..." She shyly replied. "Did I mention that we're engaged?"

Unlike the stunned silence during the Finchel proposal, all the glee kids closed in around the betrothed teens with smiles, animatedly voicing their congratulations and well wishes.

"Okay, so you _know _this means that I have dibs on designing your wedding dress, right?" Kurt declared, grabbing her hand. "Wow! There has to be at_ least_ 2.5 carats on your hand, maybe three..." He held her ring up to the light. "Not even counting all of the amethysts embedded! Gorgeous!"

Blaine watched Kurt's eyes light up and smiled at his awed expression. "Be careful, Mercedes. I think Kurt might have found the one thing he loves more than you. Friendship, thy name is Cartier!"

Kurt tutted him, flashing away the absurd idea. "Nonsense! A ring this pretty can only look good on a woman who's equally as beautiful! Congrats, Ebony."

"Thank you, Ivory." Mercedes smiled, air kissing both of his cheeks.

"You too, Sam-meister," Blaine added, shaking Sam's hand.

"Thanks, Man." smiled Sam, surprising the brunette by pulling him in for a manly hug.

"I knew it! I felt it! Didn't I say it, Puck? I told you that something special was happening!" Quinn gushed, excitedly shoving him aside to catch a glimpse of her ring.

Puck rubbed his injured shoulder, pouting at her and her forcefulness. "No you didn't. You were too busy telling me how _quickly_ our _quick_ relationship was, remember?"

"Oh shut up, you know I love you. Stop being so sensitive and pissy. You rocked my world. Happy?" Quinn deadpanned, fanning him away. "Sam, you have such exquisite taste!"

Puck appeared momentarily stunned by her confession, then smiled to himself, rounding his shoulders as the macho bravado returned.

"Congrats, guys." Puck congratulated, in a deeper voice than usual. Taking Mercedes hand, he greeted her knuckle with a kiss, humming when his lips touched her skin. "Another unclaimed conquest taken off the market. Shame."

"Shut up, Puck. Like you ever had a chance." Mercedes chuckled, snatching her hand away to swat him upside the head.

"And I can't take any credit, Quinn. It was my grandmother's ring. My dad had it resized for her." Sam told her humbly.

"Aww, your grandmother's ring? So precious!" Sugar squealed, bouncing up and down excitedly. "Oh! And then, you'll have a son, and he'll meet his true love in high school, and then he can give your ring to her!"

"Or him," Blaine added, holding his boyfriend's hand. "You never know."

"Or, he could get a job and buy his fiancée their own ring," Mercedes corrected, clutching the jewel close to her chest. "I don't plan on letting this go for a long time."

Santana smirked at her answer. "So, Trouty found some sense and marked his territory. Damn, you laid it on him good and proper, didn't you? I'm surprised that he can still walk."

"Hardly," Brittany added, smiling at the embarrassed couple. "It looks like they both need crutches."

Sam glanced over to gauge Mercedes's reaction. She didn't seem disturbed by their friends' bold observations, so he smirked and took her hand, answering for the both of them. "We had a pretty long night, yes."

"And, though the wedding won't be for a long, long time, I want you all to know that we both expect to see every one of you there. You guys have been a tremendous support to us through all of our mess. Sam and I can't imagine taking this next step in our lives without you guys being there." Mercedes answered, smiling at Sam and squeezing his hand.

"Especially these two nosy troublemakers," Sam added, pointing out an unsuspecting Erin and Sugar. "Nearly breaking down our door this morning."

"_Afternoon,_" Sugar corrected, crossing her arms. "And you're welcome for the yacht, by the way, Mr. Charming."

"Thank you, Sugar," Mercedes sing-songed, blowing her friend a kiss. Sugar caught it and happily pressed it to her cheek.

"Welcome!" she chirped, grinning.

"And I'll have you know that I actually wanted to leave you two alone." Erin interjected, still nestled in Artie's lap. "I was going to stay with my boyfriend and spend time with him, but Sugar told me that you two could be trapped and dying in there, so naturally I was compelled by best friend law to follow along."

Mercedes hardly heard the rest of her explanation. The word "boyfriend" rang over and over in her ears. "Did you just say..." She studied the way Artie hugged her waist and pieced the two together, gasping and smiling. "Since when?! What?!"

"Since yesterday!" Erin answered, covering her ears and laughing at her ridiculous expression. "Gosh, is that what I sound like on a regular? High and squeaky like you?"

"Nope," Artie answered, smacking a kiss to her cheek. "You sound perfect."

"Okay, this is a little too couple-y and mushy for me, so I'm gonna be over there, busting out the tequila." Santana bowed out, making her way to the cooler. "If anyone cares to celebrate the joys of inebriation with me, be my guest."

"Where's the food?" Joe asked, stretching and yawning from his nap in the sun. His whole body had tanned to a golden brown, save for a comical set of pale, vertical lines covering his stomach, courtesy of his beach chair. He did a double take when Mercedes giggled and covered her mouth, catching the enormous new rock on her finger. "OMIGOD, YOUR HAND!"

"That's what she said," Mike added with a chuckle, unable to resist. Tina laughed by his side.

"That's what you get for sleeping, Joe. You miss all the excitement!" Sugar told him, patting his warm cheek. "Okay, I have all the barbeque equipment ready on the dock, guys. We just have to figure out where we want to set up camp. As soon as we do that, we can slap some burgers and hot dogs on the grill, bust out some s'mores and eat!"

"Hey, can we head across the lake for the barbeque?" Sam asked excitedly. Mercedes amused eyes met his in question. "I think I have the perfect place."

"Where?" she asked, enjoying the glimmer in her fiancé's eyes.

"My new crib," he answered, winking at her. Mercedes nodded and smiled in knowing.

"Did I hear someone mention wedding?" Rachel ran down the stairs in a hurry, ending her phone call with her dads just as she hopped off the last step. Mercedes held out her left hand, and Rachel screamed and ran to close the distance between them in a suffocating hug.

"Omigosh, Mercedes! I'm so happy for you!" She squealed, jumping up and down as she embraced her. "Finn and I just got engaged, too! We could get married together! How awesome would a double wedding be, huh?"

Finn blanched at the mention of their 'engagement'. "I'm never arguing with her ever again for the rest of my life," he conceded, gulping down the shot of tequila a sympathetic Santana had handed to him. "If I say another word, she might end up pregnant."

**O-O**

The group took row boats in groups of two and three across the lake. Sugar requested that a few of her security guards drive over the barbeque equipment and wait for them on the other side.

"Look! There it is," Sam declared proudly, rocking the boat as he pointed out his tree house nestled amongst the foliage. "We can have the barbeque underneath my tree house."

"Dude, that's epic! You built that?" Mike exclaimed.

"Nope," Sam plopped back down in his seat, hugging Mercedes's waist proudly before he resumed rowing. "My fiancée built it for me."

"By yourself, Mercy?" asked an incredulous Tina.

"Well, my dad helped me a bit over summer, but I finished most of it," Mercedes answered, grabbing one of the oars to help them Sam row. "It's no big deal."

Rachel swatted Finn's back as he struggled to guide their boat to land. "Finn! How come we don't build large pieces of architecture for one another to declare our undying love?"

"Because you handling power tools is just as dangerous as me trying to coach a ballet class," Finn grumbled, taking out his frustration on the grip of the oars. "Besides, we both know you don't give a crap about anything unless it somehow involves benefitting you."

Rachel's cheeks turned red, ready to fume in protest, but on second thought she realized that Finn had a point. "True." she admitted, sighing. "That's why I love you Finny Bear. You're always so honest with me."

Finn mumbled his angry retorts under his breath, eyeing the land ahead of him like it was his lifeline.

**O-O**

The barbecue equipment hadn't arrived yet, so Sugar and some of the guys laid down their blankets to mark their camp site in the meantime. Sam and Mercedes each guided halves of their crew on a brief tour of the tree house interior while they waited.

"This looks like so much fun," Tina said aloud, looking through the star studded telescope perched outside the crude oval window. She came up with the girls after Sam, Mike, Kurt, Blaine and Puck came down, following Mercedes as her tour guide. "I bet you can see all of the constellations from here!"

"I'm sure our lil' captain will take full advantage of that." Santana snarked, scoffing as she admired the view of the lake from the side window. The small, admiring smile that snuck its way on her lips betrayed her tone. "You did good, kid. I might just crash up here from time to time."

"Feel free." Mercedes told her, pointing out the star decals on the ceiling to Erin and Quinn. "I'm sure Sam wouldn't mind."

"He would if he's trying to get his freak on with his future wife," Quinn smirked. "You need a do not disturb sign and a door up here."

"No, that wouldn't work for the decor. She needs to keep with the whole stars and stripes theme...Oh, I know! Get a cutout of Captain America. You know, the ones that talk and move? And then it can, like, put a sexual twist on all of his catch phrases. Like..." Tina flexed her arms and swung them back and forth robotically in front of her, deepening her voice to sound like the character. "Condoms...assemble!"

Quinn laughed aloud and followed her lead, planting her fists on either side of her waist. "Dicks up, Soldier!"

"Ooh, I got one!" Brittany added, jumping up from the small book nook full of Captain America children's books. "How about 'Ask not what the pussy can do for you, but what you can do for the pussy!'

It wasn't a truly authentic quote, but her deep voice and serious face made the girls laugh so hard that they didn't even consider correcting her.

"Oh c'mon! They were together last night _and _this morning. Isn't that enough? I mean, how much sex can two people have?" Sugar interjected, disturbed by the X-rated talk. All of the sexually active women grew quiet and turned to stare at the singular virgin among them. Since Erin had gone off with Artie on a nature walk and Rachel was on the rope swing with Finn, Sugar was all alone on the defense. "Never mind, forget I said anything. You guys are freaks."

The girls laughed around her, more boisterously than before. The gentle ringing of a bell interrupted them.

"Who is it?" Mercedes sang, running with the girls to glance out of the doorway. Sam held the rope of their makeshift doorbell in hand, surrounded by the rest of the boys on the ground floor. Artie and Erin rolled up shortly after to join them.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, come down from there! My stomach is empty and my plate is bare!" Sam declared, dropping down on one knee.

Puck side eyed him for his over the top British accent. "Dude, you are so weird. Why can't you just say '_Barbeque's ready? Come get some grub?_' "

"Don't talk about my man, Puck!" yelled Mercedes, placing one foot on the rope ladder. "I'm coming, my prince!"

She lost her footing on the second step, and everyone screamed and shrieked as she flailed and lost her grip, tumbling to the ground.

Sam pushed Mike aside in time to catch her, cradling her stunned form in his arms. Her wide eyes and disheveled hair amused him.

"I always knew you'd fall for me," he joked, guiding her to her feet. She covered her face, embarrassed, as he led her to the food tables.

**O-O**

After a few hours of frolicking, Frisbee, and swimming in the lake, their endless day had caught up with their weary bodies. The crew hung around awhile to watch the beginnings of the sunset from the dock, and then packed up to go home after a round of lingering goodbyes. Security escorted most of them back to the mansion for pick up. Only Sam, Mercedes, Erin, and Artie returned to the yacht by row boat. Bill, the guard that had assisted them last night, took the liberty of bringing Artie's wheelchair over by car.

"Could you guys drop me to the hospital on your way? I was supposed to be there earlier, but I lost track of time." Erin asked quietly. Mentions of her brother around Mercedes still made her feel awkward. "If you can't or don't want to, I totally understand."

Sam and Mercedes shared a brief look before nodding together. "Sure, Erin. No problem." Sam told her, touching her shoulder. "Do you need a ride back to your house after?"

"No, my mom should be there. Artie's supposed to have dinner with us tonight, so she'll be our chauffeur back home," she joked. Sam and Erin helped Artie get settled in the back seat of the car, then hopped in themselves as Mercedes started the engine. Once everyone was buckled in and Bill had packed Artie's wheelchair in the trunk, they logged the hospital's address into their navigation system and took off.

While Sam and Mercedes talked amongst themselves, mainly about how they would break their engagement to their parents, Artie took the opportunity to admire his girlfriend as she fawned over the rocks and shells sprawled across her lap.

Erin had such a beautiful heart. Out of everything about her, Artie knew it was what he admired the most. It never discriminated or held back, never restricted access because it had been hurt in the past. Her heart was resilient. Part of him hoped that her openness would rub off on a cynic like him.

"Rin, why did you decide keep those? We saw plenty of pretty rocks and shells on the trail. These just look...sad." Artie picked up a stray seashell with jagged edges from her lap, frowning when a stray cigarette butt fell through and soiled the knee of his khaki pants.

"Broken things can be pretty too, Arthur," She surmised, polishing the seashell on her shirt until all of the soot was gone. "Many people overlook them, but most times, they just need a little TLC. After a little polishing...a little love...they're worth something again. See?"

The hem of Erin's shirt was covered in a thin film of dirt and grime, but all of the items on her lap sparkled and shone like new. Artie still didn't consider them collectibles by any means, but her innocent love for the small trinkets enraptured him.

"Yeah, I do." He smiled, brushing his fingers against hers. Her gaze met his at the gesture. "They are very beautiful."

Erin blushed, still unfamiliar with such direct compliments. "Thank you." She smiled back. She took a small conch shell from her collectibles, gave it an extra cleaning, then opened his fingers to place it in his palm. "Here you go. You can start your own broken collection now."

The shell was small and opaque white, the natural color of teeth and bone, with splatters of red and blue scattered across its surface. "You would give me such a nice looking one?" he asked her, stroking the small freckled token fondly.

Erin nodded, closing his fist with both of her hands. "From one broken shell to another," she answered, kissing his knuckles.

Unable to resist, Artie leaned in to kiss her lips. Now that he could, he planned to take full advantage of the opportunity. "Maybe together, we can be whole."

His words made her warm. "Artie, I...I..." Her sentence trailed off, ending altogether.

Artie frowned, then chuckled at her sudden shocked and far away expression. "Yes? What?" He followed her gaze to the open window behind him. "Oh, we're at the hospital already?"

Before Mercedes could move the car into park, Erin threw off her seatbelt and hopped out, slamming the door closed behind her.

"What the hell?" Mercedes locked her brakes, leaving the engine on, and jumped out after her.

"What's wrong with Erin?" Sam asked Artie, watching on in surprise as Erin's brisk walk turned into a full blown run.

"I'm not entirely sure," Artie replied, just as confused by her change in mood. Sam unbuckled his seatbelt, intending to follow them. Artie watched the direction they were headed in, and noticed two women sitting around a table off to the side of the building, engaged in a private conversation. One of the women resembled Erin's mother. The blonde across from her looked unfamiliar.

"C'mon, let me get you set up." Sam hopped out and popped the trunk, opening and locking Artie's chair in place in record time. Just as he'd gotten Artie seated, a commotion of cries filled the air around them, and hospital security sprinted through the automatic doors of the hospital, running and yelling into their walkie-talkies.

Artie and Sam hurried across the street, following the guards and the sound of Mercedes's overpowering voice to the scene. Two guards restrained a raging and flushed Erin by her wrists and ankles, while another attended to the blonde woman crouched near the wall, bleeding from her lip and temple.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! BITCH! COWARD! I HATE EVERYTHING YOU ARE!" Erin yelled, elbowing one of the guards in the stomach to release her. The blonde woman screamed as Erin charged toward her, fists and red hair flying.

"I'M SORRY, RINNY! I'M SO SORRY!" the woman yelled, blocking Erin's blows by crossing her arms in front of her face.

"ERIN, STOP IT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Mercedes yelled, grabbing her arm and pulling her away. Erin yanked her arm back and stepped away, rubbing her knuckles. Her breathing hadn't slowed when she decided to address her mother.

"If you ever speak to her or acknowledge her presence after today, you're dead to me." Erin spat, shocking everyone around her, including Mrs. Bailey. "And if she shows up at the house, I'll pack my things and disappear before you can stop me. I've lived on the streets by myself before and I can damn sure do it again."

"Erin!" Mrs. Bailey gasped. Tears spilled over her cheeks "She wanted to see you! I thought that..."

"You thought wrong, Mrs. Bailey," Erin growled, spitting in the blonde woman's direction. "Don't you dare ever make the mistake of thinking for me again."

Before she could walk away , Artie grabbed Erin's arm, gently pulling her back. "Rin, talk to me," he pleaded, trying to guide her toward him. She looked at him for a brief moment, then gently pried his fingers from her arm, shaking her head as she ran toward the car. Artie swallowed hard, wounded by the pain he'd seen in her eyes. Just seconds ago, she was smiling and happy. She shared her broken treasures with him. What made everything change so quickly?

Sam stepped carefully around the scene, patting Artie's shoulder as he passed by to attend to Mercedes. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I don't even know, Sam. Erin just jumped on top of her and started swinging." They watched as security helped the woman to her feet. "What did you do to her? Did you hurt her?" she asked the stranger, angered by her friend's violent reaction.

The woman sniffed and turned her face, dabbing her lip on her sleeve until the flow of blood eased. "Worse. I left her alone," she answered, catching her sob as she wiped her eyes.

Sam frowned when she spoke. Her voice felt like a childhood memory.

"Do we know you?" he asked, ducking a bit in an effort to see her face.

"My name is Ana," she replied. Artie and Mercedes gasped at the familiar name.

"You're her sister." Artie said quietly. "Shit..."

When she raised her head, it was Sam's turn to gasp, recognizing where he'd seen her before.

"_You're _Ana?!" he cried. "The hell?"

"Sam, what is it?" Mercedes caught sight of her face as well, and felt her breath grow short and tight in her throat.

"My name isn't Ana anymore. But, you can't tell anyone, you hear?" the blonde stranger warned. "If this gets out, my whole family will be ruined."

"You're ...Faith Hill," Sam whispered, squinting as if he didn't believe his own eyes. The entire Donovan and Erin situation had just become too bizarre to handle. "Erin's sister is Faith Hill...You're..."

"Double shit," Artie whispered behind him, staring at her like she was some alien being.

"Our mama wanted to name me Faith since before I was born. After she died, it just kind of stuck," She answered off-handedly, dusting off her white jeans. She glanced up and did a double take at the slack jawed teens watching her with peculiar expressions. Since they were obvious friends of her sister, she decided to go for broke and brave a smile.

"I take it you three are fans?" she joked in a shaky voice, brushing her hair back with a trembling hand. "Well, this ain't no VIP backstage meeting after concert, but I guess it'll have to do, right?"

Mercedes's mouth twisted, far from amused. "You have a whole lot of explaining to do, Ana...or Faith... or whoever the hell you are," she warned, stepping forward until they were face to face. "Start talking." She poked her chest, wiping the careful smile off of the woman's face. "_NOW. _And it better be good enough to keep me from throwing a few punches myself."

**O-O**

**Fun Fact: Faith Hill is actually adopted! Her adoption story is nowhere near as tragic as this one, but I thought it would be cool to use a person that actually had some relation to the storyline, however small. **

**So, why is she a famous figure? Why does it matter? How will it affect the story? Will she explain herself and her actions? How will Donovan respond to her?**

**Sometimes, Freedom means going back and addressing past hurt, doesn't it? Hence, the ongoing title. **

**Until next chapter, Lovelies? Review! **


	31. Chapter 30 Looking Back

**A/N: To Jill, my awesome beta. Thank you for giving me 100% of you, even when you weren't feeling 100% your best. I appreciate that. And to my readers, thank you for being so awesome and patient. I tried my best to perfect this chapter before publishing, and while I'm not sure I've achieved it, this was the best of all of my drafts. I really hope you enjoy the read. Blood, sweat, and tears go into every word, I promise you. **

**Also, as I re-read my previous chapters, I realized that I mistakenly referred to Donovan and Erin's sister as Ava instead of Ana. That was an error I didn't catch right away. To avoid any confusion, her name is definitely Ana. I will go back to change previous chapters when I have time. She will be referred to as Ana and Faith interchangeably in this chapter, for reasons you will understand as you read. If you have any questions, like always, please feel free to PM me or leave a review. **

**On to the story!**

**Xoxoxo, **

**KurlyQ722**

**11/19: I neglected to include this earlier, but I just realized how irresponsible it was to neglect to warn my readers, some of whom have gone through similar circumstances. My apologies...**

**TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of rape and sexual assault of a minor in moderately graphic detail. A few segments delve into the complex and twisted thought processes/realizations of a rapist. Proceed with caution, dear ones.**

**O-O**

"I'm going to go check on Erin." Mrs. Bailey declared, wringing her hands as she glanced between the two women. "Ana, I'll be right back. And Mercedes…" She touched the younger woman's shoulder and caught her attention, breaking her hateful glare at the blonde woman across from her. "I know you mean well, but please stay out of it. This is a family matter. _We _need to deal with this."

Mercedes made a motion to comment, but Mrs. Bailey sprinted across the street and escaped earshot within moments before she could coherently arrange her thoughts. She looked back at Ana—or Faith, if she were being technical—and returned to glaring, communicating all of the furious, deadly thoughts swirling in her head without words. Ana visibly shrank under her gaze, rolling her shoulders forward and sliding slightly down the wall that supported her until she met Mercedes at eye level. For someone so stately, it was quite an awkward and uncomfortable position.

Then again, life had already forced her into a similar state emotionally, so she had grown used to it.

It was the reason she'd left this world behind all those years ago. Life as an impoverished victim had worn thin. Ana held hope that there was more destined for her than the guilt and embarrassment attached to her family's name. She'd found it in Faith—literally and figuratively—and achieved success she'd only dreamed of as a girl, singing in arenas and garnering crowds larger than her wildest dreams. She married Tim, who knew nothing of her past, and finally found someone who loved without fists and scathing words. She had children with him, raised them with hugs and kisses in a safe environment, doing everything she could to make sure they never knew of her upbringing and traumatic adolescence. Everyone fell in love with this new person, this Faith Hill, including Ana herself. In fact, Ana loved her so much that she'd forgotten who Ana was for a while. Faith's new obligations wouldn't let her look back. She couldn't be Ana again, not when the limelight was so bright and irresistibly shimmery with possibilities.

But at night, when the music stopped and silence took its place, the nightmares returned. They would come in spurts, fragments of memories, when she'd tuck her girls in bed or kiss her husband goodnight. She'd remember that she used to sing the same lullabies to Donovan and Erin when they were her children's ages. She'd remember that their father's kisses weren't soft like Tim's, tasted nothing like spearmint and tenderness, and made her gag each and every time.

Faith would fall asleep, and Ana would remember that rejecting all she'd hated about her past meant leaving behind the memory of the two people she loved most. When news of Donovan broke headlines while she was on tour in Memphis, she immediately called Mrs. Bailey and insisted that they all finally meet and talk. It was a sign from fate. Now was the time for long overdue explanations.

So she returned as her old self, as Ana, slinking back into her humble skin and trekking across the country without an entourage and paparazzi, hoping that the familiarity would at least lead the conversation with her siblings in the right direction.

But as she faced the three, unfamiliar faces that clearly knew of her past and hated her for it, Ana knew that her reputation of leaving destruction in her wake had already spoken louder than her words ever could.

Artie rolled up between the two women, flexed his jaw, and broke the silence. "Why are you here? What do you want with Erin?"

"I came to make amends. I came to tell her that…when I left Lima….she never left me," Ana explained, touching her chest. "I wanted her to know the truth about why I didn't come back for her. Or Donovan. She deserves that."

"What she deserves is a peaceful life!" Mercedes angrily bellowed. "You shouldn't have come back, not now. She's happy. She has people that love her and take care of her, people that _care enough_ to stick around when things get rough."

Ana winced at the dig, biting her lip. "So, she's really been happy here? Healthy? With friends?"

"Lots of them. Girls that she calls sisters. They're nothing like you," Mercedes spat. "The circle is nothing like you."

"The circle?" Ana questioned. She took in Mercedes' form again, realizing that she recognized her face from the pictures Mrs. Bailey sent to her, when she'd update her on Erin's life. "You mean her support group?"

"That's where we met. It's how we became friends." Mercedes' voice quieted at the memory. "We understood each other."

"You're Mercedes, aren't you." Ana said quietly. "Your name was on the back of the pictures."

"Pictures? You have pictures of me?"

Ana fished out several small polaroids from her pockets, all of Erin in various poses, surrounded by people that meant the most to her. She held out the one of her and Mercedes standing in front of the lockers after one their sister circle meetings, modeling t-shirts that donned the group's name and logo. "Mrs. Bailey sends me updates on her as often as I request. She told me that you were Erin's best friend. She said….you mean a lot to her. You brought her joy back."

Mercedes took the picture from her, touched by the description of their relationship. "She's like family to me." Mercedes told her, voice gentler than before. "I care about her a lot."

"So do I, Mercedes. I swear it. I just need the chance to prove it. Please….can you help me?" Ana pleaded. "I just need her to listen to me for a couple of minutes. I can clear everything up."

Mercedes looked up from the picture, and noticed for the first time that Erin and Ana held the same innocence in their eyes. _So did Donovan_, her conscience reminded her.

"It's not up to me," Mercedes answered, handing back the picture. "And even if it was, I wouldn't do it. I won't be another pawn in this family's sick twisted game of war and peace. One of you already used me once. I'll be damned if I let you come in and do the same thing."

Ana seemed puzzled by her response, but when Artie reached out to rub Mercedes' arm and Sam reached out to touch her shoulder, it suddenly made sense.

"Donovan," she muttered as she exhaled. "Donovan touched you, too." A queasy, dizzying feeling overtook her. "Oh god…"

"Hey look, I'm fine now. I don't need your pity. Just know I won't help you." Mercedes frowned when Ana sunk to the floor, leaning to the side and clutching her stomach as if she were going to throw up.

"Are you okay, Ms. Hill?" Sam asked, speaking for the first time since he realized who she was.

"It's my fault. It's all because of me….because of what we did." And Ana finally did lean over and heave, emptying her stomach of the little food she'd consumed in the past forty-eight hours. The teens moved back, avoiding any projectile droplets of vomit. She finished and wiped her mouth on her white sleeve, staining it a sickly pale yellow, before shakily rising to her feet.

"Ana was a broken, sick girl. She didn't know what love was….how to get it….how to give it." She looked ahead, towards Mercedes and Sam, but seemed to focus on something just beyond them. Sam quickly glanced over his shoulder, but all he saw was an expanse of roadway. He looked back at her, studying her eyes in confusion, wondering what she was looking at.

"I know I can't change all that happened Mercedes, especially what my brother did to you. But maybe, if I teach him what I've learned…If I show him the right way, tell him the truth…." She met Mercedes' eyes, silently begging for forgiveness. "Maybe I can help change him?"

Artie glanced between them and grew angry when he saw his friend's eyes soften toward Ana. "You're buying this? Mercedes, she's a rapist, too! What happened to you is because of what she did. You're gonna betray Erin and believe her?!"

Mercedes couldn't figure out what she believed about Ana anymore. "I didn't say that, Artie," she told him. The quiver in her voice gave away her uncertainty.

Artie sucked his teeth, snatching his hand from her grasp. "Whatever. Do whatever the hell you need to, Mercedes. I'm gonna go and check on Erin. You know, your supposed friend? The _real _victim in all this? Or did you forget about her already?"

"Artie, shut up. That's not fair," Sam demanded.

"Look, stay with your girl, Sam. I'm going after mine, alright?" Artie wheeled himself toward their car, where Erin and Mrs. Bailey were still talking.

"Ignore him, sweetheart. He's mad." Mercedes closed her eyes and nodded as Sam rubbed her shoulders. "This doesn't have to be your fight. Let it go. Okay?" he gently whispered, kissing her temple. Mercedes shook her head, opening her eyes.

"No. I want this to happen. Ana has a point. Erin will listen to me," Mercedes told him. "I owe her the chance to get her freedom, too."

"So you'll talk to her for me?" The older woman asked, cautious of getting too excited. "If it doesn't work, I'm out of her life forever. Everything can go back to how it was, I promise you."

"You're already here. Nothing will ever be the way it was. You have to speak to her." Mercedes sighed deeply, preparing herself for the whirlwind to come. "Faith?"

"Yes, ma'am?" she answered humbly.

"She's my sister, too. When you weren't't here…she was…." Mercedes's eyes watered, pleading with her to understand. "She was_ my_ Erin. She's missed you her entire life. Don't make this visit a useless one, okay? Not for her. This one would break her."

Ana took a breath and nodded, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "Yes ma'am."

Mercedes squeezed back and released her, hoping her faith in people's good hearts wouldn't't lead her astray like it had in the past. "Then I'll go and talk with her. My advice? Start thinking about what you're going to say while I'm gone."

Sam and Ana watched her walk away, toward the car parked across the road. When she opened the passenger door, they spotted Mrs. Bailey and Artie in the front seats huddled over a crying Erin. Almost immediately, Erin stretched out her arms and desperately clawed the air for her friend, begging for a hug. Mercedes received her, holding her to her breast, murmuring apparent words of comfort as she closed the door behind her.

"I used to be that for her." Sam faced the woman behind him as she spoke. "You know, before everything splintered. I was the person she'd come to when things became too confusing. That's what you are when you're the oldest."

"You're like a third parent," Sam added, nodding in understanding. His brother and sister meant the world to him. He loved them fiercely. Nearly a year of caring for them alone and entertaining them while his parents looked for work revealed exactly how much he was willing to sacrifice for them. "You'd give your life if it meant theirs would turn out better. I'm the oldest, too. Sacrifice is everything."

"Sacrifice is everything," She repeated, sighing.

"It must suck even more to know that the people you'd give your life for hate your guts," he replied sympathetically. "I can't imagine what that's been like."

Ana's lips quivered. "It's been the worst kind of hell," she cried, voice breaking. "But it's not how it looks. I wouldn't just leave them behind to get away. I didn't leave for me. I really left for them."

Sam already had that figured out, but still wasn't sure how. "I thought as much. Don't worry though. Mercedes is amazing. If anyone can get Erin to talk, it's her. She's an awesome communicator."

Ana smiled a bit at the sudden light in his eyes when he mentioned Mercedes. "Girlfriend?"

"Fiancée, as of yesterday," Sam beamed. "One of the best days of my life."

"Congratulations," she said sincerely, then sniffled and added, "But aren't you two a little young? Is she pregnant?"

"Youth ain't got nothin' on love, Ms. Hill. And I wouldn't marry someone just because I got them pregnant." When he realized his error, Sam blushed and sputtered. "I didn't mean to imply anything. I know you and Tim were really in love—ARE! Are really in love—and that lil' Grace is a gift from God….I mean, being on tour can really bring people together and…."

"I wasn't accusing you of anything, don't worry." She chuckled. "Sam, right?" He nodded. "You seem to know quite a bit about Tim and me, more than the average. Are you a country fan?"

"A little bit. I've heard it." Sam shrugged, trying to sound as blasé as possible. But soon, his inner fan boy won out, bursting at the seams to tell the truth. "Okay, that's crap. I'm IN LOVE with you guys. I mean, maybe even a little over the top obsessed. My daddy and I used to play Tim McGraw records when he'd take me fishing. I know every word to every song off the first McGraw album, _All I Want, _and most of _Everywhere. _I spent my first pay from working my Uncle Bob's farm to buy the greatest hits album—three copies! And _you _Ms. Hill….your cover off the _It Matters to Me _album was the first full length poster I'd ever bought! I used to masturba— I mean _enjoy_ watching you on TV. And FYI, I personally loved _Stepford Wives_ and didn't think it was stupid and flat like the critics said. Personally, I thought you should've gotten a bigger part…and maybe done a few more albums with crossover appeal. You know, to prove to the industry that country singers can do more than country. But, that's just me."

Sam finally caught his breath, smiling bashfully as she laughed at his enthusiasm.

"A little?! You sound like a hardcore fan if I ever met one!" She smiled, cupping his heated cheeks. "And you are just the cutest thing! I heard a little accent in there somewhere….Tennessee maybe?"

Sam gaped, shocked. "How'd you know?"

"I've been around enough circles to know who's from where. Trust me, Tennessee is one of those distinct ones. Right up there with Kentucky and Mississippi." She smiled, slipping a bit into her accent. "It's good to know some young fans who know of me."

"You guys are the kind of couple I want to be-singing and touring around the world, writing songs, duets…..It's the dream."

"Sometimes it can feel like a nightmare. Especially when you're in a cramped bus for a couple of days with a bunch of men," She admitted, laughing, then leaned in to whisper, "Don't tell anyone else I told you this, but Timmy cuts the sheets with his toenails. Half our money goes toward fresh linens!"

"Really?" Sam whispered, smiling at the inside knowledge of one of his idols.

"Yep! And his gas ran our cat Jingles out the house! Poor thing only lasted a week before she high tailed it cross country!" The blondes shared a hearty laugh, enjoying the change in the tone of the conversation.

"Hey, are you guys coming to Ohio anytime soon? I know a whole family of Evans that would love to buy some tickets," he gushed, completely enamored with Faith's smile. It was even whiter and prettier up close; true Hollywood teeth.

"We've actually been debating another tour. Y'know, the girls are a bit older now, and can handle being away from us for longer periods of time. Who knows?"

"Do you need an extra hand in security? I've been hitting it pretty heavy in the gym lately." Sam quickly rolled up his sleeve to flex his arm, then lifted his shirt to knock his fist on his abs, demonstrating their rock solidness. "I can also play guitar and sing on key if you need a backup singer. Hell Ms. Hill, I'd even be your water boy if you said the job is open."

"Jack of all Trades, I see." She smirked, amused by his eagerness. "I'll tell you what, if you need a summer job, keep in touch with me. I'll give you my number. Hopefully, if everything goes well today, I'll be sticking around here for a little bit." She spun her finger, instructing him to turn around, and wrote her personal cell on the back of one of her spare business cards. "Now, I can trust you to keep this number private, right Sam?"

"Yes ma'am!" Sam could barely stand still. This whole meeting was too surreal.

"I hope you don't mind. The card might be a bit….vomit scented." Sam shooed away her concerns, tucking the card away in his back pocket once she finished.

"What's a little vomit between friends, right Faith? Is it okay if I call you Faith?"

The older woman cocked her eyebrow. "Keep it at Ms. Hill, Kid. I'm happily married and far too old for you."

"Oh no, I didn't mean it like that…." The mention of marriage suddenly gave Sam an idea. "Faith? I mean, Ms. Hill?"

"Sam?" She questioned back, playfully squinting at him.

"Well…I really love Mercedes, and I know she loves me…and it's kind of always been my dream to have you and Tim sing at my wedding, since you guys are so strong and stable, you know? I want that mojo to rub off on my marriage. And, it wouldn't really be for a couple of years….and I think Mercedes would think it's cool to have celebrities at our wedding, since she wants to be a famous singer someday and all…"

"Your request, Sam?"

"Would you sing at our wedding?" Sam pleaded in a breath. "We don't really have a lot of money yet, but we will someday! We're going to be big shots together, me and my missus. I'd be in your debt."

"Shouldn't you ask her first?" Faith asked warily, glancing toward the car across the road from them as the doors opened. "I don't think she's too fond of me."

"Mercy? Nonsense!" Sam answered. "She's just slow to warm up to people sometimes, that's all. And with the whole Donovan thing, well…naturally she'd be a little put off. But, don't worry. Once I pull out the power of the trouty lips and big green eyes, she'll say yes to anything. Trust me, she'll love the idea of having you and Mr. McGraw sing at our wedding."

"I'm gonna love WHAT?!"

Sam whipped around, facing a steaming Mercedes, and laughed his most nervous, high pitched, maniacal laugh. "Mercy! Baby! I was just telling Faith—I mean, _Ana_—about our engagement and explained that I would talk with you so that we _both _can _consider….._OW!"

Mercedes snatched his ear, pulling him down to her level. "Sam, what did I tell you about irresponsible celebrity worship, huh? You don't commit to things about us when I'M not there! Now I hear that I'm gone for a minute and you've already booked _Erin__'__s long lost sister _as our WEDDING SINGER?!"

Sam yanked his head away, rubbing his sore ear. "It's _Faith Hill _though, baby!" he weakly argued, pouting. "And think about it, she'll probably perform for free out of guilt for ruining her brother's life, which turned into him ruining your life and almost killing me!" Sam smiled, nodding at his own brilliance. "You see where I'm going with this? Huh? _Free singerssss…." _

Mercedes just stared, slowly shaking her head. "Sometimes I really wonder about you, Sam Evans…."

"Wait, Donnie almost shot you? When?" Faith questioned, grabbing Sam's shoulder a bit too familiarly for his fiancée's comfort.

"Hey, hands off my man. I said I'll help you. I didn't say anything about us being _that _friendly." Mercedes pinched her middle finger and tossed her hand away from Sam's shoulder. "Don't get hype."

"See what happens when you run away from your problems?" All turned to Erin's solemn face, blotched and pink from crying.

"Erin," Faith said somberly. "Sweetheart, you weren't my prob—"

"I haven't been your sweetheart for years. For right now, you're a stranger to me, got it?" Faith frowned, but nodded in reluctant agreement. "I have two conditions if we're going to talk."

"So you'll hear me out…" Faith sighed in relief.

"That doesn't mean anything except that I'm giving you the chance to say what you need to say. I still hate you." Erin spat.

"Erin!"

"Mrs. Bailey, please." Mercedes saw Mrs. Bailey's face drop when Erin addressed her formally. She reached out to touch her hand, mouthing the words "_She didn't__ mean it."_ to comfort her. "I have two conditions. The first is that Donnie and I get to ask all the questions. You don't get to ask us anything, got it? We're the ones that deserve answers here, not you."

"Okay, I can do that," Faith nodded, stepping forward.

"And secondly," Erin stretched out her hand, shoving Faith back to arm's length distance. "All of the people I want in the room get to be there. If any of us don't like what you have to say, it gets shut down. If you upset Donnie and make him sicker, it gets shut down. If you get angry or loud or anything, it…"

"Okay, I get it. That's fine." Faith nodded, already feeling defeated. "Can we go upstairs to Donnie's room and talk now?"

Erin paused a moment, seemingly considering her words, before she answered. "Hold on. There's one more thing I need."

Erin turned to Mercedes, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. "Can you come with me? Please?" She begged her friend. "I know it's a lot to ask, and…I know that my brother will be there, too….but please say you'll come? I can't do this without you there, bestie. If you're not with me….then I can't…I don't know how…." She shuffled her feet, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable in her request. "I really need you right now, Mercedes. I don't say that to anyone, not even my parents."

Mercedes's heart melted in her chest at Erin's confession. What else could she say but yes?

"I'm with you, Erin," she assured her, squeezing her hand.

Erin visibly relaxed and allowed herself to smile a bit, clinging to her friend's promise as tightly as her fingers clung to her knuckles. "Okay." She whispered, swiping away a stray tear. "We can go inside."

**O-O**

Mercedes, Sam, Artie, Mrs. Bailey, and Ana sat uneasily in the waiting area outside of Donovan's hospital room. Erin insisted that she talk with her brother alone before her sister came in, just to make sure that it wouldn't hurt him too much to see her. Now that she knew of their history, Erin took great care to employ all of the conscious precautions her sexual abuse counseling with Bee had taught her. Donovan wouldn't be victimized by their big sister again, not while she was around.

She also wanted to make sure it was safe for Mercedes. Erin loved her brother with her whole heart, but he had to understand that her feelings wouldn't deter her from knocking him out if he dared to cause her closest friend any discomfort.

The balance between her view of him as a rapist and her brother was always a work in progress.

The group remained silent as they waited, all watching the white digital clock plastered on the wall in front of them. Without a ticking second hand to follow, time moved at a snail's pace, taunting its watchers. Faith sprung from her seat and walked briskly down the hall, muttering something about needing coffee and a restroom. When the minute hand finally moved and landed on a number, Mercedes grew overwhelmed and fell into her hands, trying her best to even her shaky breathing.

"Do you want me to go in with you?" Sam worriedly asked her, stroking her hair. "Since he's in there?"

Mercedes had been flirting with a similar idea for the past couple of minutes, only her plan involved taking Sam's hand and hightailing it home. Fear of Donovan didn't control her anymore, but she still had serious doubts about her ability to keep herself together in front of him. Freedom only came yesterday, and that was in the safety of Sam's arms and a warm bed bathed in moonlight. Would it withstand a cold, sterile hospital room in an uncomfortable metal chair, facing her attacker?

"No, I'm okay," Mercedes answered shakily, sitting up to lean against his shoulder. "Erin was there for me when I needed her. It's my turn to take care of her now."

"But it's my job to take care of you, Mercedes," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "Don't put me out of work."

Mercedes looked up at him and smiled. "No. I like you taking care of me. Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." Sam smiled back and leaned in to kiss her lips. "I thought you might have wanted to run."

"Run?" she frowned, "Why would I?"

"Y'know." Sam nodded towards the empty hallway across from them, lowering his voice. "The whole Faith Hill aka Little orphan Ana wedding invite thing."

"Aww, really? Sam, you're something else." Her thumb brushed across his mouth, smoothing out the worry lines around its corners. "If I made the decision to leave after every silly thing you did, I wouldn't be here right now." She joked, "In fact, I might have been long gone!"

"Oh good," smirked Sam, relieved. A second passed before her words truly hit him. "Oh..." he frowned. "um...Good."

"You know what I mean," She added. "Just don't make decisions for us again without me, alright?"

"I know. It was a teenage dream." He sighed, exaggerating his pout. Mercedes scoffed and poked his bottom lip back in. "Can we at least have a country themed wedding? A compromise?"

Mercedes had already thought of the same thing. "We'll see," she teased him. "We can talk about it after we break the news to our parents."

"You two are getting married?" The couple turned to Mrs. Bailey and nodded. "Congratulations. I met my husband around your age. But back in my day, men had to go and ask a girl's father for permission before he proposed. I guess a lot of things have changed."

"No, ma'am. I've already asked Mr. Jones. He gave me his blessing," Sam answered proudly, puffing out his chest.

"You asked my father?" Mercedes asked in surprise. "When?"

"When I came to pick you up for prom yesterday," he answered. "I didn't give him a date or anything, but he told me that as long as we finish school and you get to fulfill your dreams, he would be honored to have me as a son-in-law. It's a good thing, too. I'd never asked a girl's father for permission before."

"You've proposed to other girls before?" questioned Mrs. Bailey. "How old are you exactly?"

"Eighteen," he shyly replied.

"With the soul of a forty-five year old who hears his biological clock ticking," Artie added, keeping his eyes on the closed door of the hospital room.

"I had commitment issues in the past….more quick to get in one than quick to avoid it," Sam explained. "I've been dealing with it in therapy."

Mrs. Bailey slowly nodded, obviously disturbed by Sam's confessions. "What's different about this time?" she snarkily asked, then caught her own tone and added, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. That was rude. The stress of today just has me on edge…."

"No, it's okay. It's a legitimate question," Sam insisted.

"Great SAT word, babe," Mercedes congratulated, tapping his nose.

"Thanks." He beamed. "And to answer your question Mrs. Bailey, I finally found someone who was willing to commit back. She asked me to marry her first."

"Before I knew you asked for my dad's blessing! That was sweet by the way." Mercedes smiled broadly. "No wonder he put the tracking device on you. He probably figured out what we were going to do before we did."

"Tracking device?" Before the couple could explain, Mrs. Bailey folded her ears over and blocked them out. "Never mind. I don't want to know. I can't handle any more drama! First Donovan and his mess, then a celebrity sister, then my adopted daughter disowns me…I don't _do_ this! I'm _Methodist _for crying out loud! We don't even worship loudly!"

"Why didn't she ask me?" Everyone turned toward a solemn Artie, still staring at the hospital room door. "I could be there for her. How come she didn't ask me to come in with her? She can trust me."

"Dude, it doesn't mean that she doesn't trust you. Everyone deals with issues in their own way. Maybe she's not ready to share that part of herself with you yet. Don't take it personally," Sam advised.

"Yeah, Artie. We shared things in group sessions that I didn't share with Sam until much later. This isn't about your relationship. This is about Erin." Mercedes added, touching his shoulder. "When she's ready, she'll tell you."

Artie nodded, chuckling at his own worries. "You're right. I just want to be there for her."

"So be there for her, dude. Respect her wishes," Sam told him. "That's all you can do right now. But trust me, it doesn't change how Erin feels about you. Love and hate take the same amount of passion. Sometimes they look exactly the same."

Mrs. Bailey's brow rose, taking in his words. She digested them in silence.

"That was very astute, Sam!" Mercedes grinned, impressed by his moment of depth.

"If astute means wise, then I can't take credit. Read it on a fortune cookie," he sheepishly admitted.

Mercedes chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Well said, then," she remarked, no less proud of him. He looked down, cupping his kissed cheek with a soft smile, and Mercedes felt her heart beat faster. "Y'know sometimes, when you say things like that, when you do things that surprise me, I just…."

"What? Wanna hug me? Kiss me?" he smiled. "Thank God you snagged me up before anyone else did?"

"All of the above." She laughed, playfully swatting his chest. She rested against him, nuzzling his neck, and whispered, "ALL of the above."

Sam nuzzled her back, burying his face into her soft hair and squeezing her shoulders in a brief hug. They separated when the hospital door finally opened, revealing a depressed looking Erin standing in the doorway.

"Ready when you guys are. The nurse and I just finished getting Donovan dressed." Mercedes and Mrs. Bailey stood, and Erin noticed her sister's absence immediately. "Where's Faith?"

"I'm right here." Faith ran down the hallway, downing the last of her coffee. She tossed the cup near the wastebasket by the nurse's station. "And it's okay to call me Ana, Rin."

Erin grew cross, masking the brief moment of fear and worry in her anger. "I thought you'd run off without explaining…._again,_" Erin sassed, quickly perusing her. "And the only Ana I know is my sister. Until you can explain yourself, I'm calling you what everyone else does." Erin stepped aside to let Mrs. Bailey and Mercedes in the room. She blocked the way when her sister tried to step through. "And you should have recycled your coffee cup, _Faith. _They use cardboard materials here. You don't give a shit about the environment either, I see."

Faith sighed as Erin slowly stepped aside, squeezing through the small space her little sister permitted her to enter the room. Sam and Artie shared a worried look as the door closed in front of them, anticipating the worst.

**O-O**

Three chairs were arranged in a row directly across from the hospital bed. When they entered, Donovan's private nurse had just finished tucking the blanket around his legs.

"This should keep them steady, Donovan. Remember, any contraction or involuntary movement is normal. Just ask your sister to perform the leg workouts we went over and it should be enough to relax the muscles. Here's your call light." She rested the small button in his left hand. His right hand was balled into a stiffened fist and appeared slightly darker in color. "I'll be at the nurse's station if you need me. Keep the foam in your right hand to make sure your fingers don't close all the way. Squeeze it if you think you have enough control. Build that muscle memory again."

"Got it. Thank you, Ms. Sandra." Donovan smiled. Mercedes noticed how thin and sunken his face looked; an emaciated shadow of his former self.

The elderly, salt and pepper haired nurse smiled and rubbed his forearm. "I'll be back in an hour to flush your PEG tube and feed you," she told him. "Vanilla Ensure, right?"

"It's easier on my stomach," he explained, patting his belly. "Plus, it's what I would choose if I could taste it."

"Of course." The nurse politely nodded to the new guests, smiling warmly, before addressing Erin. "Honey, he's been having really bad leg spasms lately. Since he can't feel them, he'll need your help to straighten them out. Remember what I taught you? Just ease 'em out nice and slow."

"I remember, Ms. Sandra," Erin replied with a nod. "Thank you for everything."

"No problem. I love working for such a sweet family." Nurse Sandra knew bits and pieces of the family's story and Donovan's pending trial, but she never let that color her perceptions of them. The McMann estate employed her until Donovan's sentencing was final. "I wish you the best, dear," she whispered to Erin, closing the door behind her as she exited.

The group sat in silence for a few moments until Erin took the reins.

"I'll address each of you individually." she declared, words clipped and cold. "Since I have issues with everyone in here except for Mercedes, she'll be first." Erin's tone softened when addressing her friend. "Mercy?"

Mercedes had been busy studying Donovan. He looked so pale and fragile, and ironically, appeared to be in physical and emotional pain. In the past, she'd dreamed of the day he would suffer. But looking at him now, all she felt was pity. "Yes?"

"I've made Donovan promise to be on his best behavior while you're in here. If he does anything, let me know, and you can leave, okay?"

"No mention of the assault?" Mercedes skeptically asked. "At all?"

"None. I promise. He swore to me." Her head whipped around, throwing her brother a threatening look. "_Right_, Donovan?"

He bowed his head and nodded, briefly glancing at Mercedes out of the corner of his eye. "I won't, I swear," he quietly promised, looking to Erin.

"And Faith…" Erin pointed her out and beckoned her to step forward. Faith stood and walked toward her siblings, briefly meeting Donovan's eyes. He sat up in shock, fisting the sheet with his left hand, when he realized who she was.

"Ana?" he harshly whispered, feeling the need to clutch his blanket to his chest.

"Remember, Donovan and I ask the questions and you give us the answers. There are no exceptions. You don't get to ask us anything unless we say so. Agreed?" Faith looked down, nervously worrying her lip, as she felt Donovan's eyes on her. His piercing stare bore into her skin like needles. "Do you?"

"I do. I agree," she answered, facing her little brother for the first time in years. He really resembled their father now, both in face and build. In some instances, when he spoke or made certain mannerisms, Faith noted that the two of them were nearly identical. But God, those _eyes….._

His eyes held all of her little brother's sweet innocence, all of their unshared secrets.

"Good." Erin caught their engaged stare and stepped between them to break it. "You can sit now."

"Erin?" Mrs. Bailey stood, walking over to touch her daughter's arm. " Honey, I'm here if you need me. I'm not your enemy." Guilt had been eating away at her heart since the confrontation outside. Unlike Erin, she couldn't find a way to function in the midst of chaos. Order governed her world, and she felt the pressing need to restore it. "I thought this would help you, to reunite your family….."

Erin stepped back, yanking her shoulder back as if her mother's touch were foreign. "What I didn't appreciate was the surprise, Mother. You should have told me before you invited her back into my life. It's _my _past. You had no part of it. How dare you take ownership?"

"Young lady, you'd take care to watch your tone. I'm still your mother," Mrs. Bailey warned. Erin's eyes softened.

"And I thought I was your daughter, not your charity case," she replied, pained.

"Charity case? Erin, what are you talking about? I—"

"Stop trying to fix me, mother!" Erin yelled, utterly fed up. "I came to you a broken child, but I'm not like that anymore. Stop trying to "patch things up" for me. Stop treating me like I'm still the project foster kid! I'm a person, not your cross to bear. I can carry my own."

Mrs. Bailey balked, enraged. "All I EVER did for you, all I ever continue to do for you, is solely out of love," she insisted, jabbing her daughter's chest with an un-manicured finger. "How dare you accuse me of anything less?"

"I didn't say you didn't love me, mother." Erin answered calmly, brushing her hand away. "I saying that you have this deep seated need to make decisions for me instead of _with_ me. You can't do that anymore, especially not with this. Not with a past that caused me pain you knew nothing about. _That__'__s _why I'm angry. You broke me and never _once_ thought to ask for my permission. I'm used to other people doing that to me, but I never thought you would join them. Please sit down, mother. I need to put myself back together…..without you."

Mrs. Bailey remained silent and slowly returned to her seat, still visibly tense, but unable to form an argument.

"She's protected you from me for while, Rin. We were both careful about planning this day." Faith intervened.

Erin humorlessly laughed. "Not careful enough. I almost knocked you out. Bet you didn't't plan for that."

"I actually did. You've had a strong kick since you were little." Faith chuckled. Erin didn't't appear amused. "Okay, no jokes. I get it. Should we start then?"

"Yep. The beginning's usually a good place. Let's start with the obvious." Erin sat on the bed, near her brother's feet. Donovan took her hand, watching her intently as she grappled with formulating her first question. "Why did you leave us behind? Why didn't't you take us with you?"

"I figured that would be your first question." Faith replied, blowing a breath until her bangs fanned out from her forehead and fell to the wayside. "Truthfully, the answer's quite complicated."

"Find a way to simplify it, then. I'm sure we can handle it." Erin looked to her brother and squeezed his hand. "Why did you leave?"

"To answer that, I have to answer the question you wouldn't think to ask me." Faith answered, confusing everyone listening. "The real question is _what was I leaving?_"

"What? Explain, please. I don't understand." Frowned Erin. "We know what you were leaving. We all went through it. Our father hurt you."

"He wasn't my father, Erin. Not by blood anyway." Faith confessed. "He was my stepfather. He and Mom got married when I was about eight. My real father was…." She took a uneven breath, shaking her head free of the memory. "He wasn't much better than yours. I remember how much he used to hurt mom, too. We had to pack up and run away in the middle of the night to get away. By the time he caught wind of us leaving, we were already in Ohio. We had to sleep in shelters for a few months until we could get back on our feet."

"Where did you run from?" Mercedes asked, intrigued by the story. What her pastor had said about generational curses plaguing a family had some truth to it. First their mother, then Ana, then Erin…and Donovan. _Abuse is such a vicious cycle. _

"Kentucky, near the border. I don't remember exactly where because I was so small, but I remember it being a real junk heap…so desolate and broken. When we got to Ohio, I thought we'd ran to heaven." Faith laughed at the memory. "The social workers at the shelter were so nice. They gave us food and clean clothes, even treated me to ice cream from time to time. I had such a sweet tooth back then." Her smile dimmed. "It was supposed to be our land of milk and honey. Our promised land. In fact, that's what momma used to call it. "We don't have to run no more, Ana," she said, "God's delivered us from bondage right into the promised land." And for a while, I believed her. And when we met your daddy, well….. he was the sweetest, kindest, most charming man ever. He used to own a trucking business and volunteered his services to the shelter, delivering our food and unpacking it in the kitchens. I met him on a Sunday, delivery day. He caught me trying to steal some of the chocolate chip granola bars from the closed boxes. I thought he was going to tell on me, but he opened up the box instead, telling me to take however much I wanted and hide it away under my mattress. When the stores got low and Momma found all the empty wrappers under our bed, she nearly ripped my bottom in half. I told her that…" Faith chuckled at the memory of her innocence, covering her mouth. "I told her that an angel truck driver gave them to me. And when she asked where the angel got them from, I told her that it fell like manna from heaven."

Mercedes and Mrs. Bailey smiled at the biblical reference.

"She went with me one Sunday to meet my "angel", they started talking, and next thing I know it's six months later and she's telling me that they're going to city hall to get married. Some of the other kids in the shelter didn't fancy him and tried to warn me. They said that he would give them treats and try to get them to sit in the back of his truck with him, alone. I thought they were just jealous of us getting to move on, for having a complete family and being happier than them. Two months after they got married, we moved into his house. The way you guys remember it wasn't the way it always was. Momma used to care for it back then. If you can believe it, it used to smell like lemongrass and pine when you walked through the doors. We used to make lemonade and cookies for the neighborhood kids on the weekends. I know it's hard to imagine, but our family was the envy of the block. We looked so put together, so….perfect."

Faith frowned then, pacing the floor. "Then he lost his job. He said that his co-workers were jealous of his brilliant mind and fired him, but I never bought that. He had a drinking problem, among a host of other things. Momma had to work overtime hours cleaning houses and doing odd jobs to make ends meet. I remember her being so exhausted when she came home, but he still made her clean the house and cook dinner. When she'd collapse in bed and fall asleep, he'd show up at my door to tuck me in." Faith folded her arms, protecting herself from the nightmarish memories and the emotions she couldn't quite name. "At first, that was really all he did. Then, tucking turned into tickling my legs. Then tickling turned to rubbing, and the rubbing went higher and higher until he reached my thighs. A full year passed before he found the nerve to put his fingers inside me, and once he did that, things escalated pretty quickly."

Erin shifted in her seat, remembering the familiar description of her father's touches all too well. "And you were what…nine or ten at the time?"

"Just about," Faith replied solemnly. She caught sight of her sister's tears and recognized the pain in her eyes. "He tucked you in, didn't he?"

"Every night," Erin whispered. "When Donovan was asleep and you were away."

"How old were you when he started…tucking you in?" Faith asked in a strained voice.

Erin met her sister's stare, narrowing her eyes. "Not nine or ten. Nowhere close to nine or ten."

"Jesus, why didn't you tell me, Rin?! Why didn't you tell me he was touching you?"

"The same reason you didn't tell me you were touching Donovan!" she yelled. Donovan hunched forward. Erin felt his legs start to move under the blanket and quickly stood, flipping the covers over to expose his legs just as they curled up to his bottom. The limbs were stiff and a bit thinner than the rest of his body. It hadn't been long enough since the shooting for the muscle atrophy to be glaringly noticeable, but they did appear weaker and frailer than before.

"Rin, cover me back up!" Donovan insisted quickly, trying but failing to cover himself up with his contracted fist. "I'm just wearing the gown."

It was already too late for modesty. His entire bottom and part of his testicles were exposed for everyone in the room to see.

"Sunshine, use the sheet to cover him," Faith told her, walking over. Erin reached out to push her away.

"I know how to do this. We just need to stretch out his legs really slowly." Erin spat, holding his calves. "And don't call me sunshine. Only my brother and sister call me that, _Faith_."

Faith stepped away, visibly hurt. "Alright."

"Don, I'm just going to ease them out slowly, alright? Breathe deep and try to relax." Erin gently instructed, easing his stiffened legs out from under him. Donovan kept his breaths slow and even, closing his eyes as he tried his best to remain lax.

"If I could feel them, I could help you," he said lowly, hoping only his sister could hear him. "I hate this shit."

"I hate it, too. But you and I know that the only person to blame for this is you," Erin whispered back. She rested his heels on a pillow when they reached the foot of the bed. "I'm going to elevate them. Your heels are starting to look red. Remember Ms. Sandra said to watch out for bedsores."

"I know, I know," growled Donovan, shooing her doting hands away. He hated discussing his condition. It made him feel like an old man. "I'm an invalid, not dumb."

Mercedes watched the entire scene in silence, taking it all in. The irony of Donovan's paralysis hadn't escaped her. The gun he intended to use to hurt others had ended up injuring him, possibly for life. He had little control of his lower body, the very part of him that caused his innocent victims suffering, and had to be exposed and humiliated on a daily basis with every assist to dress and tube feeding. Just observing him function in his condition was a humbling experience.

"Hopefully not for long, Donnie," Erin assured him. "We're going to get you up and walking again. I just know it."

_I hope not_, Mercedes thought to herself, _not until he learns. Not until he changes his ways._

**O-O**

The room remained quiet after the brief lull in conversation.

"So…" Donovan began, easing himself further up in bed. "If he's not your dad….is he ours?"

Erin nodded, eager to know the answer herself.

"Sadly, yes," she admitted. "Erin looks more like mommy and you look more like him. I look like my dad."

"Guess that explains the blonde." Erin mused under her breath. "Figures."

"What?"

"I used to idolize you, Faith. You made everything look more appealing, including blonde hair. I used to ask God to make me look like you." Erin looked at her in disgust. "I'm glad he failed me."

"He doesn't fail, Erin," said Mrs. Bailey. "You were meant to look like you, red hair and freckles and all."

Erin smiled faintly, only for a moment. "I used to hate how much I looked like our mother, though. My father used to beat her senseless every day. I thought she was weak." After a minute of silence, she asked, "Did he ever love her? Love us?"

Faith sighed, smoothing her hair back. "He never used to hit her when she was pregnant. He'd always talk about wanting his own children. If you can believe it, he was overly affectionate when mommy was pregnant the first time. He wouldn't let her lift a finger while he was around. She used to pray _so hard _that the baby would be a boy. At first, I thought it was because your father wanted a son, but….now that I know he did to momma what he used to do to me, I figured out it was because she didn't want to give him another little girl to hurt. I guess she figured, if he got his son, someone who looks like him…..was his blood…." She faltered, massaging the tightness in her throat away. "You were a surprise, Rin. A loved, but unwelcome surprise. I hoped that he wouldn't touch you because you were his daughter, but that was naïve of me. That man was far more depraved than anyone could fathom."

"Momma knew what he did to you?" Erin asked, shocked that her mother didn't step in to intervene.

"Sometimes, when she was still too sore, she would offer me to him," Faith explained, focusing on the trees blowing in the breeze outside the window. "It sounds twisted, I know. But, in a way, I understood her. He could find ways to fuck you for hours." She shut her eyes and rubbed them. "If I had the chance, if it was the other way around, I would've given her up for a break, too."

"You don't mean that. You were a child," Mercedes interjected. "What happened to you was horrible."

"Exactly!" she yelled, tearing up. "I couldn't leave, I couldn't escape him! I would've given him anyone else to hurt, anyone else in the _world _if it meant a break from him!"

"Like me?" Faith and Erin's eyes met across the room, and a single tear drifted down Erin's cheek as she whispered, "You gave him me."

"No." Faith whispered back in horror. "Never you, Erin. I would never…"

"You said anyone in the world, Faith. I'm anyone! You left us behind so we would suffer and you could get your _break!" _

"Erin, it wasn't like that!" Faith yelled as Erin ran out the room. "ERIN!"

The door closed slowly behind her, shutting with an audible click of the lock. Another instance of silence loomed over them, heavier than before. Mrs. Bailey stood, but Mercedes grabbed her arm, easing her back to her seat.

"Stay. I'll go talk to her."

**O-O**

Sam and Artie were fast asleep in their chairs, completely missing the clopping of Erin's flip-flops against the tile as she ran past them. Mercedes caught sight of her down the hall, huddled near the double doors of the emergency room, and walked after her. Nurse Sandra stood in alarm when Erin sprinted past her, but Mercedes held a hand out to stop her, urging her to return to her seat instead.

"She's fine," she assured the older woman. "Just some bad news."

The nurse nodded, and though she didn't quite understand what 'bad news' entailed, she sat obediently and returned to her documentation on the computer.

Mercedes stood in front of her hunched friend, legs bent and clutching her knees, and remembered her time curled up between the school lockers after she'd thought Donovan had returned to McKinley.

"God, I really can't deal with any more parallels," she pleaded to the ceiling.

"What?" Erin sniffled and looked up, wiping her nose with her wrist.

"Nothing." Mercedes eased herself to the ground to sit beside her. "You know, I think a chair would be more comfortable."

"I don't want to be comfortable. I want to be angry," Erin replied, digging her nails into her scalp. "I can't believe she'd just up and leave us like that, like we're bait!"

"Rin, you didn't let her finish. I don't think it's like that. Give her a chance," Mercedes advised. "It's obvious she loves you. She wouldn't be here rehashing old memories with you if she didn't."

"I guess," Erin sniffled, staring at her lap.

"She took _punches, _Erin. She followed every rule you gave her. She's famous as hell, but decided to come humbly, no entourage or press….she wasn't even wearing a designer suit!" Mercedes smiled when Erin turned her face away, hiding her budding grin. "That suit was clearance rack from Macy's at best!"

Erin chuckled, cupping her face in her hands. "Santana would have a field day ragging on her, I just know it."

"Are you enjoying it?" Mercedes asked seriously, meeting her solemn eyes. "You've been harsher than I've ever seen you. I know what she did, but….it's not you, Erin. You're not this cold."

"Part of me wants her to hurt like I did," Erin explained. "I want her to pay for leaving us behind."

"Because your dad hurt you?"

"Because she hurt me! I trusted her, Mercedes. Growing up, she was my mom and my dad. She was everything. She promised that she would do anything to keep us safe and I believed her. Why did she lie? What changed?" Erin asked forlornly. "Why weren't we worth sticking around for?"

Mercedes eased her head to her shoulder, tenderly stroking her hair. "I think it has less to do with what you and Donovan were worth to her, and more to do with what she could gain by leaving."

"What do you mean?" Erin asked, looking up at her.

"Did you ever think that maybe she wanted all that fame and fortune so that she could come back someday? Rescue you from the life you were living?"

"Then why didn't she, Mercedes? It's been years!"

"I can't answer that. Only she can. Maybe you're asking the wrong question," Mercedes told her. Erin frowned, not understanding. "Look, my older brother Micah and I were really close growing up, kind of like you and your brother are sister were. He used to always talk about flying airplanes when he got older. That's all he wanted to do. Momma and daddy used to get so annoyed when we would go out to restaurants and Micah would only speak in Jet language."

"Jet language?" Erin asked, amused.

"Yeah, you know." Mercedes made sputtering sounds with her lips, mimicking the sounds of a whirring plane engine. "He wouldn't speak proper English until we got home and daddy threatened him with the belt!" Mercedes laughed at the memory, then stopped when she noticed Erin cringe. "It wasn't like what you went through, Rin. It was just a clap on the bottom, nothing else."

"Oh, good." Erin sighed, relieved. "So, what does this have to do with me and my sister?"

"I'm getting to it!" smiled Mercedes. "Even in his teens, Micah swore that he would fly planes one day. We started calling him Jett because that's all he would talk about."

"Ha! Mercedes…Jett….I get it." Erin chuckled.

"And he promised me that one day, he'd fly us around the world and show me all the sights and wonders. My dream was to go see the Christmas show at Radio City." Mercedes eyes' lit up at the memory.

Erin squinted in confusion. "All the places in the world, and you want him to take you to _New York?_ You know it's like a bus ride away, right?"

"Hey, I was little. I didn't know that." Mercedes shrugged. "All I knew was that my big brother was going to take me to someplace wonderful someday in his own private Jet someday. I couldn't wait."

"How come I've never seen your brother, Mercedes?" Erin asked her. Her face fell.

"My brother went to Ohio State for college and commuted from home. He started hanging out with a weird crowd…dyeing his hair all kinds of colors, partying late hours of the night. My dad wouldn't stand for it. They would fight all the time. My brother is just as stubborn as the rest of us. If you think _I__'__m _bad, you should have seen him when he was my age! Daddy gave him a choice between staying at home and obeying his rules or being disowned and finding his own way. I thought the decision was an easy one. I thought he would stick around for me, but…" A knot lodged in her throat at the memory. "He just packed up his things and left that night. When I woke up, his room was cleaned out. I was twelve."

"Didn't he call you? Keep in touch?" Erin asked desperately, hating the horrible turn the story had taken. "Did he ever take you to New York like he promised?"

"I didn't hear from him for two years. Daddy wouldn't talk about him. My mom would just sigh and tell me to pray for protection and guidance over his life. I didn't understand at all. When he finally called me freshman year, it brought back up all the old feelings. How could he just leave me behind? Why didn't he tell me where he was and what he was doing? Why didn't he love me anymore?" Mercedes said in a small voice, reliving the conversation.

"What did he say?" Erin asked quietly.

"He told me that he was gay." Erin gasped at the confession. "He had joined the Air Force and had been living on base with his boyfriend for the past two years. He didn't tell me because he thought I would react like mom and dad did. He thought I would reject him, hate him for who he was. "

"Did you?"

"How could I? He was my big brother. When life got wavy, we were grease and water, smoothing that mess out together. In fact, that's what I told him." Mercedes laughed. Erin didn't get the analogy, but smiled anyway. "When I told him that I would always love him, he decided to come home and try talking to my parents again. This time, he told them the truth. All they knew was that he had been acting out. They didn't know why. He finally explained that it was because he had been harboring a secret life for years and couldn't find the courage to tell them about it. Once he opened up to them, we all cried and hugged and welcomed him back home. And like he promised, Jett took us all to New York to see the Christmas show last December. That's where we met his boyfriend Lucas. He was a part of the production, playing one of the wise men in the manger scene."

"Wow." Erin sighed, eyes wide. "So all that time, such a big thing turned out to be no big deal at all."

"Well it was a big deal, just not the big deal we assumed it was," Mercedes explained. "My point is, Faith's reasons for her actions may not be as cut and dry as you think. There might be more you're not seeing."

"I guess so," Erin reluctantly agreed. "So, you're saying I should give her a chance?"

"I'm saying you should think about your decision thoroughly before you walk away. Whatever that decision may be is up to you. I would hate for you to lose a relationship that can be salvaged." Mercedes stood and stretched her limbs, working out the kinks formed from sitting on the hard ground. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in the room. They have comfy chairs in there. I need cushioning."

"I thought you already had some." Erin smiled, patting her friend's rounded backside.

"Oh, you have jokes now!" Mercedes exclaimed. "Well, me and my 'cushion' are just gonna walk away now. _Obviously, _we're not appreciated here." She smirked, walking back to Donovan's hospital room.

Erin watched her walk until she disappeared in the room, then stared down the empty hallway, wearing an intensely pensive expression. After a moment, she sighed and stood, brushed off her jeans, and anxiously flexed her fingers as she made her way back to the room.

"Maybe there's more," she whispered to herself. "Give her a chance."

**O-O**

Everyone in the room jumped at the swift opening of the door.

"Why didn't you come back?" she demanded, pushing the door closed with her back.

Nurse Sandra, who had been at Donovan's beside to flush the feeding tube in his stomach, pulled the privacy curtain more securely around the bed, hiding the procedure from Erin's view.

"Direct, I see. I guess we have that in common." Faith smiled gently, awed by her little sister. She had grown so much. "You look exactly like mommy now that your hair's red, you know that?"

"Why didn't you come back?" Erin demanded again, just before she noticed the movement behind the curtain, near Donovan's bed. "What's going on with Donnie?"

"Nurse Sandra is cleaning his feeding tube and giving him his Ensure like she said she would earlier," Mrs. Bailey explained. Erin nodded and crossed her arms, waiting impatiently for the nurse to finish. The clapping tap of her flip flops on the tile told the older woman that she was unwelcome.

"Almost done, dear. Just injecting a bit of saline to make sure the food goes down." The nurse hummed a nameless tune until her syringe was empty. "There we are. Nice and full!"

The curtain opened, and all watched as the nurse nodded with a smile and left the room. Donovan covered himself with his gown, hiding the PEG tube in his stomach before Mercedes could see. For some reason, having her see him like this, so broken and vulnerable, made him anxious.

His actions were too late. Mercedes had seen the tube, and her eyes flickered to his for the first time since she'd entered the room. The fear in his gaze confused her. _Why is he scared of __me__?_

"Why didn't you come back, Ana? I mean, Faith," Erin quickly corrected herself, shaking her head. Faith's countenance lit up at the error, desperately holding on to the hope that her sister was finally seeing her differently.

"If I had known I could've taken you with me, I would have. But I was a teenager. I hadn't been to school or outside with other people since I was eight. Your dad wouldn't let me go anymore. He kept us prisoner in that house," Erin said quietly, swallowing hard. "He told me that if I took you, I'd be arrested for kidnapping, and child protective services would snatch you up and put you in the system."

"He wasn't wrong," Mercedes commented. "They are his children."

"But the rules are different when children are clearly being abused. I could've taken them and gotten help." Faith looked to Erin, pleading with her to believe. "If I had known Erin…honest to God, you would have been beside me. Nothing would have stopped me."

"Why didn't you risk it?" Donovan asked, looking down and fiddling with his gown.

"I know what the system's like, Donovan. It can be just as horrible. I saw kids leave the shelter to go into foster care, and they would come back with bruises and burns like we had. At least if I knew where you were, I could make money, come back, and take you from our house. In foster care, we wouldn't have been placed together. They would have separated us. I was only a teenager! They wouldn't have let me care for you two, even though I'd been doing it my whole life."

Mercedes touched Erin's arm. "I told you," she mouthed, grabbing and squeezing her hand. Erin nodded.

"So, when you made money and got famous, why didn't you come back?" Erin asked quietly, watching her own foot as it slid along a crack in the floor.

"I _did _come back, Erin." Donovan took an audible breath, catching Faith's attention. "But when I did, I thought I was too late."

"It would have never been too late, Ana." Donovan confessed, eyes shining with tears. "I waited for you my whole life."

Faith started to cry, clutching the dangling locket around her neck. "I didn't know you were still alive, Donovan," she tearfully admitted. "When I came back, the house had already been burned to the ground. An African American lady was there with her daughter and she told me what happened. She said everyone in and around the house had died. They were crying too, but wouldn't say why. I assumed they had lost someone in the fire."

_Eva, _thought Mercedes. _Eva must__'__ve told her mother what really happened. Derrick was supposed to be a secret._

"They did," Donovan murmured to himself, shedding a guilty tear over his dead friend. "It was my fault. I started the fire."

Faith gasped. "You did? You started it?"

"I came to you, begging for help, but you ignored me! What else was I supposed to do?" Donovan cried. "I had to. He was hurting Erin. I had to, Ana."

"I know." Faith rushed to hug him, but he flinched and shrugged away from her embrace.

"Please don't touch me. I can't control it." Faith frowned, until she noticed the telling bulge between his legs, tenting his sheets. Donovan quickly grabbed his smaller pillow and pressed it against his lap, frantically hiding his erection. "I can't….I don't know why."

Faith slowly backed away, sliding down the corner of the wall behind her until her bottom hit the floor. "I know why," she said gravely. She clutched her stomach and looked away, clearly disgusted. "That's my fault, too. I have to own up to that."

"After the shooting, I don't really have control of my lower body…" he struggled to explain.

"Donovan, that's not what I mean and you know it," she said sharply, meeting his eyes. "What we did all those years ago….I hurt you really badly, little brother. I'll never be able to forgive myself for it, for what I made you become."

Donovan frowned. "You didn't hurt me, Ana," he said softly, almost childlike. "You can't hurt me. You love me."

"I didn't love you enough, Donovan. That's not love. Sisters aren't supposed to do that with their brothers, especially not when they're little kids." Faith repeatedly knocked her head against the wall, fighting within herself to say what she should have said years ago.

"I'm so sorry, Donovan. I raped you," she whispered, exhaling all the words in a breath like they were strung together. "I didn't love you enough, I…..What we did was rape, Donovan," she even louder, shamefully meeting his eyes. Donovan's breath quickened. His eyes widened, frighteningly so, and his cheeks drained of all color.

"No it wasn't. That can't happened to boys," he insisted. Everyone in the room jumped when he slammed his fist on the counter. "That couldn't have been what we did! I loved you! You wouldn't hurt me!"

"I did hurt you, Donovan! I did!" Faith cried, reaching out to cup his face. She stopped herself short of touching him. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I messed you up. He messed us both up, Donovan. You looked just like him and I….I couldn't hurt him, but I could hurt you…but I couldn't be violent like him because you were still my brother and I still loved you." Donovan grabbed her hands and pressed them hard against his cheeks, crying until he fell against her shoulder. Faith hugged him and rocked back and forth, weeping in his hair. "I'm sorry, Donnie, I'm so sorry. Sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"I hurt a lot of people, Ana. I did what we did to them. They're going to take me away and put me in jail," Donovan wailed, clutching the back of her jacket. "I don't know what to do now, Ana! What do I do?! I'm so screwed up."

"We're going to get you help. We're going to get help together," Faith assured him, nodding to herself. "I'm not leaving you again. There's always a way to fix what's broken. You hear me? There has to be. You won't deal with this alone," she added, her voice shaking.

"I won't tell the police. I won't tell anybody, Ana," he promised her. "Don't leave again. Please don't. I'll be good."

Erin watched the scene, silently weeping, cupping her hand over her mouth to quiet the sounds of her sobbing. Faith reached out for her, but Erin stepped back.

"Donovan said he went to see you and asked for help, when you were famous? Why didn't you help him then?" she cried, sitting on the other side of Donovan's bed.

"Erin...Honey, please understand. When I left you both, I saw your faces everywhere. I used to turn kids around on the street, thinking that it was you or Donovan, hoping that you'd show up. I thought, maybe they ran away. Maybe they escaped before I could get to them and they found a better life. I _prayed _that you would. If I couldn't get to you, then you'd free yourselves." Faith sat Donovan up, smoothing back his hair. "When did you come see me, honey?"

"Y-you were in..in Kentucky. At a restaurant." Donovan sniffled, wiping his nose. "I called your name. Do you remember?"

"I remember that!" Faith whispered. "I thought you were my imagination. I thought it was another fan that looked like you. I thought I was going crazy!" she told them. "I didn't think it was real. It had been _years_, Donovan, you have to understand. I got tired of keeping up the hope. I went to the house after that, about a week later. When I saw it had burned down….." She looked to the ceiling, shaking her head at the memory. "I gave up looking. I thought you both were dead. It took me years to even read the news story about what happened. The longer I'd been gone, the harder it was to face it again."

"So that's why you're here now," Erin said quietly, piecing it all together in her mind. "When did you figure out the details of the fire?"

"Not until last year, on the anniversary of the day I found out. It was my mourning day." Faith fished the clipped article out of her pocket. It looked yellowed and worn, but well kept, like an antique relic she'd cherished all these years. "When it said only a little boy and an old man died, I started looking for you. I couldn't find any record of you past the fire, so I hired private investigators to find you. They made a composite photo of what you would look like now, using the picture I had of mom when she was younger. I have to say, they weren't too far off. It looks almost the same." She pulled another picture from her pocket, a digitalized image of 'Erin'. The nose and eye color were slightly off, as was the length of her face, but the resemblance was uncanny.

"Two months later, she found us," Mrs. Bailey chimed in, walking over to stand beside her seated daughter. "I didn't believe her at first, but I was curious. It wasn't everyday Faith Hill shows up at your door claiming to be your daughter's long lost sister. And when she started telling me about your childhood and your brother, well….I thought it was worth a shot. We just needed DNA evidence first."

"How'd you get it?" Erin asked, taking her mother's hand. Mrs. Bailey smiled and tucked her daughter's hair behind her ear.

"Hair from your hair brush. Blood from me," Faith explained. "You got the easy part. I hate needles."

"Me too," Erin replied, smiling a bit.

"Then, when we got the DNA part out of the way, she and I sat down to talk. I told her about you and all of the great things you'd accomplished, even showed her some pictures from past birthdays." Mrs. Bailey grew solemn. "You mean a lot to your father and me, sweetheart. I thought she was going to take you away."

"I had every intention to, at first," Faith confessed. "But when I saw how happy you were in your new home..."

"You saw me?" Erin asked, awed that she had missed it.

"I spied once or twice." Faith smiled, brushing her sister's cheek. "You were loved and safe. You had a home and two parents that adored you. I wasn't going to take you from that." Faith met Mrs. Bailey's eyes, and they both shared a smile. "So we agreed that, when Mrs. Bailey and I felt that you were ready, I would come back and meet you in person. In the meantime, she would send me updates ever so often of how you were doing. Erin, you and Donovan mean the world to me. You two are my heart. When I heard Donovan was alive, and all the horrible things he did, I knew that I had to come sooner rather than later. It was overdue."

"And I agreed, Erin. I was afraid for you. You'd come so far from how you were when we first brought you home. The last thing I wanted was for you to go back to being angry and depressed all the time. I wasn't keeping it from you because I thought you were my 'charity case'." Mrs. Bailey explained, quoting her daughter's earlier words. "I hoped that we would've had time to sit and talk, but it didn't work out that way. I'm sorry."

Erin sat silently for a moment, taking it all in, before she replied, "Okay, mom."

Mrs. Bailey nearly collapsed. "I'm mom again?" she asked, tearing up.

"You were always mom. I was just mad at you. I'm still mad, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to disown you. You're my family."

"Thank goodness," Mrs. Bailey sighed, hugging her tight. Erin's face turned pink from the pressure.

"Mommy, I need AIR!" she squeaked, flailing her arms. Mrs. Bailey quickly released her.

"Sorry, dear," Mrs. Bailey released her, chuckling softly. "I'm just happy I'm still your mom."

Mercedes loudly cleared her throat, catching everyone's attention. "I don't mean to interrupt this wonderful family moment, but I have to head home soon, Rin. Sam and I have to tell our parents about the engagement before his father goes off to work. I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I left."

"You guys were really serious about that? The engagement?" Donovan asked gently, voice absent of any malice.

"Yeah. We made it official last night, with a real ring. We're still together," Mercedes answered, a bit more haughtily than she intended. This day of redemption didn't erase his past faults. They were far from friends.

"Thank you for staying with me, Mercedes," Erin said, jumping up to hug her friend. "I know this wasn't easy for you to hear, either."

"Hey, we're friends, aren't we?" Mercedes whispered in her ear, hugging her back. Erin slowly pulled out of the embrace , suddenly realizing something.

"We are? Is it the same? Now that you know everything about me, about my brother and my past, does it….I mean, are we still….are things different with us now?" Erin asked, loud enough for only Mercedes to hear. "Can you look at me and not see Donovan or my sister? what I came from? I don't want us to be friends just because you pity me or because you want to get back at my brother for what he did or something…."

"Erin, I'm not like that. If you're my friend, then it's because I like _you_. And I certainly won't use you in some plot for revenge. That's not how roll." Mercedes chuckled. "Hey, you know what happened to me. Do you see me any differently?"

"No, not at all!" Erin said emphatically, eyes comically wide. "You're my bestie."

"Cool. Then we're good," Mercedes told her, holding out her pinkie. Erin smiled and linked her pinky with Mercedes, then embraced her again.

Faith's cell phone chirped at that very moment, interrupting the serenity in the room. "Crap. I didn't realize how late it was. My flight leaves in an hour. That was my assistant reminding me."

"You're leaving?" Ana and Donovan asked at once.

"Just to finish up some business things." Faith looked up, meeting their shocked faces. "I didn't know how today was going to go, guys. I didn't think it would end this…quietly. Look, I will be back in three days time to see you again. This isn't forever."

"How do we know you'll be back this time?" Donovan asked her, growing a bit irritated. Faith unclasped the locket around her neck and tossed it on the bed, landing on Donovan's lap.

"I have to come back for that, don't I? I never leave home without it." Faith's phone chirped again and she rushed out the door. "Three days, guys. I promise." Faith stopped at the door, remembering to thank Mrs. Bailey for her efforts. "I appreciate you so much. You've changed everything for us. Thank you."

Mrs. Bailey took her hand, shaking it firmly. "Safe travels, Faith." She smiled, releasing her to leave.

Erin watched her sister walk away for the second time in her life, and the familiar separation anxiety crept up her throat and stole her breath.

"ANA!"

Erin ran out the hall, and her scream caught the attention of everyone in the hallway, including her sister. Sam and Artie woke up from their nap, frowning in confusion at the commotion. Faith stopped dead in her tracks, looking back in shock.

"Rin-tin, what's the matter?" Artie sleepily asked, wheeling up beside her to grab her hand. Erin gently pulled away, stepping closer to her sister.

"What did you call me?" Faith asked her, still stunned.

"Ana," Erin whispered in anguish. Tears flooded both their eyes. Faith ran back and clutched her little sister to her heart, pressing a lengthy and long overdue kiss to her forehead. Erin pressed her face as hard as she could into her sister's chest, inhaling her, taking in her scent to create new memories.

"I still hate you," Erin whispered, squeezing her sister's waist in an embrace until her arms started to tingle.

Faith laughed and welcomed her constricting hug, happy to hear she felt anything for her. "I know. I didn't expect anything else." She said, more elatedly than she probably should have. It didn't matter. Her brother and sister were alive. She could touch them and hug them. She still had the chance to kiss them and sing them lullabies. It was more than she'd expected God to grant her.

Erin was the first to step out of the embrace. Faith—or Ana, now that she had been properly addressed—stroked her sister's hair, smiling as she brushed away the fine red strands that clung to her cheek.

"Three days?" Erin asked hopefully, biting her lip.

"Three days," Ana promised. "I'll be back for you. I will always come back for you, Erin."

Erin nodded and stepped back, watching her sister walk down the hall. Her steps were much slower than before.

"She'll be back, Erin," Artie told her, taking her hand again. Erin nodded, blinking away one last tear as the elevator doors closed around Ana. She snuck in a shy wave before she disappeared, and Erin caught her small smirk when she waved back.

"I know," she said, smiling to herself. "I believe her this time."

Artie eased his girlfriend into his lap. "Did I miss much?"

"Not much." She shrugged, resting against his shoulder. "I'll tell you about it when you come over to my house."

"Really?" Artie asked, surprised at her willingness.

"If I can't trust you with this mess, then we'll never work," Erin deadpanned. Artie laughed and wheeled her to the elevators. Mrs. Bailey followed close behind them, touching Mercedes shoulder as she passed the door frame. Mercedes rested her hand atop hers for a brief moment, nodding in understanding.

"You're welcome." She smiled. Sam walked up to stand beside her, still stretching from his uncomfortable sleeping position in the chair.

"How long was I out, babe?" he asked, yawning.

"We were in there about two hours. You ready?" Mercedes asked, sliding her fingers between his. Sam nodded, leaning forward until his forehead hit her shoulder. "You know we're going to my house to tell my dad, right?"

Sam groaned. Mercedes giggled, stroking his hair.

"I bet he already knows. Probably has the hospital bugged or something," he sleepily mumbled.

"He does not!" Mercedes laughed. "He's not that powerful."

Sam lifted his head, quirking an eyebrow at her. "You and I have seen two different sides of your father. Trust me, I'm pretty sure he could."

"You'll be fine, Sam," comforted Mrs. Bailey. "My daddy was a preacher. My husband wanted to be a performer like Elvis. Tried to propose four times and my father wouldn't let him. We had to end up running away together."

"How did that work out for ya?" Sam asked, clearly amused at the thought of an older, frumpy man wearing a bedazzled suit and gyrating on stage.

Mrs. Bailey held up her wedding ring, leaning towards them. "Worn this thing for thirty-five years. Haven't had a single regret yet." Sam and Mercedes's heads turned toward each other. They playfully squinted, pretending to consider the idea of spending their lives with one another.

"I think I can do thirty five years," Mercedes told Sam, smiling adoringly at him. He tapped her nose, making her giggle.

"Add an extra forty-five years, throw in a complimentary Elvis suit and you've got yourself a deal, lil' lady!" Sam popped his hips back and forth and spun around, earning laughs from the ladies. They clapped good-naturedly for him.

"Well, I'll be off. It's getting late. All this fuss has left me starving, and I still have to figure out what I'm going to cook for dinner. Congratulations to both of you!" Mrs. Bailey waved her goodbyes and made her way to the elevators, following behind Artie and Erin.

Mercedes moved to follow behind her, but Sam jumped in her path before she could take a step, smiling his Cheshire grin. "So…my fiancée…." He stepped closer, bumping his chest with hers.

"Oh no, I know that smile," Mercedes grinned back, reading him like a book. "And we are not doing anything remotely sexual in a hospital, Sam. That's gross. Besides, we have business to take care of and it's getting late."

"Aw, you're no fun." He pouted, allowing her to lead him to the elevators. "Okay, after we tell them."

"And both of your parents."

"And both of my…MERCY!" She laughed at his frustration. "You know my dad works the overnight shift!"

"Does he?" she gasped, pressing the button for the elevator. "I _completely _forgot! I guess we better hurry!"

She yanked him in, pressing a kiss to his grumpy face as the doors closed. He kissed her back, still annoyed.

"Okay, fine. We tell everybody. But after we do, I'm running to the drugstore before they close, getting a fresh box of magnums, renting a hotel room, and playing horny producer lusting after his innocent-yet-equally horny star actress."

"You're insane!" she laughed. "Last night _and _most of today wasn't enough? You want more?"

"That was only a couple of hours, Mercy! That's it!" he exclaimed. "We just got engaged. Don't you think we need more than a night and half a day to celebrate? I know I do!"

Mercedes scoffed, looking him up and down, but said nothing. They both watched the glowing numbers of the elevator travel from left to right as they descended.

"Do I get to be the producer?"

Sam smirked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "That depends. Do I get to be Marilyn Monroe? I'm blonde enough."

Mercedes snorted, covering her mouth. "Can you pull off the voice?"

"I can if you can." Their eyes briefly met at the challenge.

"Oh my, Ms. Jones! I'll do absolutely anything to be the star of your show!" Sam declared, exaggerating his best baby-soft Marilyn impression.

"Anything?" Mercedes growled, drumming her fingers together like her perverted character would. "Bend over and spread 'em, sexy!"

Sam ran his tongue across his front teeth, trying in vain to suppress his laugh.

"I think there's supposed to be more dialogue before the sex, babe," Sam advised, returning to his normal voice.

"What, is there a manual on how to do it?" she asked, only half serious. "Besides, I don't have a real movie script. If I were that director, I'd hit it and quit it before the actor asked too many questions!"

Sam couldn't hold it in any longer. When she started thrusting and grunting, he bent over laughing, holding his aching belly.

"You call me crazy? I'm pretty sure you're the crazy one in this relationship."

"Only with you, Sam," Mercedes said seriously. "Only about you."

The elevator doors opened, and Sam grabbed her hand before she could exit. "What?"

He looked into her eyes and smiled, keeping her gaze as he slowly bent to kiss her hand.

"I want to do at least one hundred years of this," he said quietly. Mercedes happily sighed and pulled him closer, taking his lips in a kiss, until the need for air parted them.

"At least one hundred," she repeated against his parted mouth. "After that, I'm having an affair with a 20-something underwear model and all bets are off."

Sam laughed and kissed her again, hugging her waist. "Deal."

**O-O**

Nurse Sandra entered Donovan's room after all his guests had gone. When she did, her patient sat perfectly still, staring at something he held in the palm of his hand.

"Everything alright, love? I hope that wasn't too much excitement for one day," she asked, concerned for his mental state. When he didn't' answer, she added, "Want to talk about it?"

"My sister left a locket behind. It's her way of promising that she's going to come back." He explained, never looking away from his hand. "I was curious, so I opened it."

"What was inside?" She walked over and looked at the opened locket in his hand before he could answer. "Aww, is that you when you were a little boy?! You have the same eyes! Some people never change."

"Yeah." He chuckled. The nurse checked the IV site on his arm, and Donovan soon grew serious again.

"Nurse Sandra, can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing," she replied, a bit distracted by her inspection. "We'll just change this today. The needle's starting to come out in your arm." She pulled out the IV kit from her jacket, opening it up over his bedside table.

"If a fourteen year old girl sleeps with a seven year old boy and they both love each other, what do you call that?"

Nurse Sandra paused mid-preparation, stunned to silence. She quickly recovered, wearing her mask of professionalism.

"No matter how you spin it dear, it's still considered rape. It doesn't matter what age or gender the rapist is," she told him.

"But could it be called something else? Something better? I mean, she didn't force him to do it. And it wasn't violent or painful or anything. They just fooled around. Could you call it that?" Nurse Sandra shook her head, angering him.

"It's not fooling around when you're too young to understand what sex really means," she explained, careful to speak gently. "Now, let me change your IV really quickly and then we can talk all you want to…"

Donovan swatted the needle away. The nurse yelped when the sterile needle hit the floor and slid under his bed. "You don't know what you're talking about. Doctors and nurses don't know everything," he huffed, crossing his arms.

Nurse Sandra patted his shoulder in sympathy. "No we don't, dear," she said softly. "But we've seen enough trauma to know what rape looks like. I know that."

Donovan's eyes softened, meeting hers. "You've heard of a case like that before?"

"Too many times," she admitted wearily, exhausted by the thought of all she'd seen in the span of her career. "It changes boys, too. We tell girls that it's alright to cry, to talk about it and let it out. Most usually do. But the boys…they just get angry at everything and everyone. They never tell anyone, just take it out on furniture, on animals….on _people_." She added the last part, knowing what he'd been accused of doing. "We don't really do a good job of telling them what to do with all that anger. We just tell them to suppress it. It's not healthy...let it go…you're only hurting yourself. Why shouldn't they be angry, angry enough to hurt other people? I would be."

"So what should they do with all that anger?" Donovan asked.

"I'm not a therapist, but I think that the best thing to do with any intense emotion is to figure out where it's coming from and _redirect _it. Take control. It's okay to be angry. It's not okay to hurt others because of it. Take kickboxing or wrestling, punch it out…just don't keep it inside. It's okay to let it go." Sighing at his fallen countenance, Nurse Sandra gave his shoulder another pat and resumed her duties. "I'll be back with another IV."

When she left the room, Donovan turned off his lights, staring at the image of his younger self in the darkness. When did he change? What changed him?

If Ana was right, and what they did was considered rape…..

Did it affect him?

He had never thought to question whether or not sex could be negative. It always had some advantage or gain for him, so that made it a good thing. But sex with Ana didn't give him anything but haunting memories and confusing memories. And she came back crying, begging him to forgive her for what she'd done. What would he have to forgive unless….she'd _hurt _him somehow.

Was he hurt? He didn't feel broken. Then again, his father didn't either, and he was clearly a messed up man.

Maybe being a rapist was genetic, somehow. His father and older sister were rapists just like him.

_But Ana has a different dad_. Back to square one.

Erin didn't rape like he did….if women could rape, anyways. The only thing different between the three of them was that Erin ran away early and got help. She was the only one who identified herself as being _sexually abused. _He and Ana just lived on, plagued by the memories of their encounters.

He'd looked for women that looked just like her and had sex with them. But the sex wasn't soft or loving, not like what they'd shared. It was hard and violent…sometimes bloody. He wasn't in love. In love means happiness. He was pissed off when he took them. They fought him and scratched him.

It was negative for the girls he'd picked, which meant, by extension, that there had to have been something negative about his sex with Ana to make him want to cause them pain. She had to have hurt him in some way, even if it wasn't physical. Maybe he couldn't feel it yet. Maybe she'd touched him somewhere deeper than just the physical.

Maybe she fucked his mind, too.

Seven year olds don't have sex, right? It's illegal. He wouldn't dream of ever touching a seven year old girl. He wasn't perverted like that, not like his dad was. Little girls looked like his perpetual image of Erin—innocent. Their youth was worth protecting. His innocence was taken the first time Ana made him put his chubby little underdeveloped fingers inside her.

It _was _wrong. It had to be. He was angry because sex with Ana was wrong, and it was wrong because….why?

"Oh god." Donovan tore his gown apart and sobbed, clutching the locket to his bare chest. "My sister raped me."

**O-O**

Sam pulled the car into the Jones's driveway and parked in front of the garage door, gripping his fiancee's damp palm after he turned off the engine.

"You ready?"

Mercedes nodded, smiling anxiously at her front door. "I can't believe we're doing this. I can't believe I'm bringing you home and telling my parents that we're engaged." She confessed, giving his fingers an excited squeeze. "Are you nervous?"

"Kind of." He said in a sigh, reflecting her bright smile. "But, we're doing this. Everything's gonna work out. After we tell your folks, we can Skype mine and share the news. You still have my number?"

"Since last year." She nodded. They'd developed a habit of nightly webcam chats last year, shortly after they made their relationship official. Financial hardship and limited access to wireless connection made it nearly impossible for Sam to maintain communication, but she'd kept his contact info just in case his circumstances took a turn for the better. "We have to tell them to log on."

"Oh, don't worry. I told them to expect our call. They know my laptop password, so it shouldn't be a big deal." Sam informed her. "I think mom might suspect we have a major announcement. I tried to hide it, but I don't know if I did a good job." He chuckled, running his hand over his mouth. "I'm not used to keeping secrets from them….the good ones anyway."

Mercedes chuckled with him, running her thumb across his. "Me either. I've never had a secret like this to keep." Their eyes met, and the childlike gleam they found in each other's eyes made them laugh. Sam laughed harder when Mercedes squealed and stomped her feet. "Omigod, Sam! We're engaged!"

"I know!" He excitedly replied, mussing his hair with a sweep of his fingers. Their eyes locked again, holding longer than the last time. Their excitement simmered, warming in their gaze. "I know. We're really going to get married someday."

"I'm wearing your ring." she said in awe, watching as he kissed her hand. "Wow."

"Your dad's gonna kill me." Sam smiled, brushing the imprint of his lips off the larger stone of her ring.

"I won't let that happen." Mercedes assured him. Her eyebrows knitted together just thinking about it. "I'll give him hell if he does."

"Don't start a war now." laughed Sam, noting the shared expression of deadly warning between father and daughter. "I didn't see it before, but I definitely see your daddy in you now. It's frightening….and strangely sexy. It's making me question things about myself. I think I might like it when you're angry." He confessed, playfully shuddering in delight. "You sure you don't want to skip this and find a hotel room? I can just shoot them a text from bed."

Mercedes snorted, swatting his chest. "One track mind, I swear. Come on, no fun stuff until we share the good news!"

**O-O**

Mrs. Jones met them at the door before Mercedes had time to search for her keys, cradling the house phone between her ear and shoulder with a wide smile.

"Where is it? Where's the ring?!" she shrieked.

The couple's faces fell at the same time. "How did you know?"

"Honey, I'm a mother. I know everything. I'm on the line with Victoria now." Mrs. Jones excitedly grabbed her daughter's left hand and held it up to the sunlight. "Whoo wee! Vicki, it _is _gorgeous! How come you didn't get it?"

Realizing the children couldn't hear Victoria's response, she pressed the speaker button and held the phone between them. "—we ran off and got married, Pat. We were young and dumb and horny as hell! His mother hated me!"

"Vic, you're on speaker. The children are listening." Sam wrinkled his nose at the thought of his parents having sex. Mercedes smiled in amusement at his expression.

"We aren't any better, Sam." She reminded him in a whisper, lightly brushing her bottom against the seat of his pants when her mother turned and made her way to the kitchen.

"I know, but it's still weird." He replied just as quietly, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her body against his. "Some things you just shouldn't know about your parents. I hope we're not like that."

"Hmm. Pity." Mercedes hummed, smiling at him. "I kind of hope we are."

Sam chuckled, kissing her temple. Mr. Jones came down the stairs at that very moment and caught the loving embrace. The couple noticed his presence a few moments later and quickly jumped apart out of habit.

"No need." Mr. Jones insisted, motioning them back together with his hands. "It's not like I don't know what you two have been….up to for the past two days."

"Not all two days, daddy." Mercedes meekly assured him. "It wasn't like that."

"Yeah, it was more like a day and a half, minus breaks in between." Sam answered simply, earning glares from both his fiancée and her father. "What? I thought we were being honest."

"Not _that _honest, Sam." Mercedes stepped forward, smiling at her father. "Daddy, we were careful. It's fine."

He held her chin and analyzed her eyes, turning her head back and forth like he did when she was a child, assessing if she was lying. Mercedes played along, crossing her eyes and poking her tongue out in fun. Mr. Jones smiled in spite of himself.

"Silly bug." He muttered, tapping her nose. He caught sight of her neck and grew serious again, frightening his daughter. "What the hell happened to your neck, little girl?"

Mercedes quickly pulled Sam close and held out her adorned hand, blocking her hickeys from view. "Daddy, did I mention that Sam proposed last night and asked me to marry him? I said yes!" she squealed, hoping to redirect his attention. Mrs. Jones walked up behind her husband, smiling at the second sighting of the ring.

"Oooh, it's even prettier under the fluorescents! Vic, say what you want about your mother in law, but she had great taste!" She said to the phone.

"Don't I know it! Woman was finest looking farmer's wife in the Midwest. She was hicktown chic! If she didn't have the spirit of a disgruntled pitbull, we probably could have bonded over shopping."

"Vic, you're still on speaker." Pat warned, chuckling at Sam's look of surprise.

Victoria gasped. "Is Sam there?"

"Yep."

"Well shit, it's time he knew. He's almost a married man anyway. Thank goodness his in-laws are you guys, or we wouldn't stand a chance." She laughed. "Sorry, Sammy. Grammy wasn't a saint, honey."

"I figured, mom. I've heard the stories." He laughed, speaking into the receiver. "See you and daddy on skype in five?"

"Of course! I want to see my new future daughter in law up close and personal!" Victoria squealed, making everyone smile. Mr. Jones stared at the ring in confusion, studying it as if he were assessing how real it was. "I love you, Mercy! I bet the ring fits perfectly!"

"It does!" Mercedes called back. "Is pop gonna see me, too?"

"He's at work now, but we can set something up again when he comes home, before his night shift." Stevie and Stacie's muffled voices were heard in the background. "The twins say their congratulations. They…" she paused, listening to Stacie's question. "No sweetheart, Sam and Mercedes aren't going to move in with us when they get married….What do you mean why? We don't have an extra bedroom, that's why! Married people need their own space!"

Sam laughed, silently requesting the phone from Ms. Jones. "Tell her that she can come visit us at our house anytime she wants when we get one. And tell Stevie that the better man won Mercedes' heart."

Mercedes elbowed his side, giggling. Victoria relayed the message to her youngest son.

"He said he won't believe it until he's eating the wedding cake." Victoria laughed. "I swear, my boys and food. That and money will get them to believe just about anything."

"And love." Sam added, glancing at Mercedes. She cupped his cheek and kissed him quickly, wiping her gloss across his smirking lips when they parted. The kiss interrupted Mr. Jones thoughts.

"So….it's official. You two really plan to do this, huh?" he asked aloud, a bit sadly. Mr. Jones cleared his throat and swallowed, hoping to break the lump that formed there. "Well, we should celebrate. I'll go fire up the grill."

Mrs. Jones felt her husband's despair and squeezed his shoulder as he passed, then looked at her daughter, ushering her towards his retreating form.

"Go talk to him. He needs you." She whispered, covering the phone.

"What do I say, mama? I've never seen him like this." She whispered back in concern, frowning when she caught her father wipe away a tear. "He's crying."

"You're his baby. He's going to miss you. Talk to him." Mrs. Jones gave her a pointed look, gesturing towards the sliding doors in the kitchen, before she took her call off speaker and resumed her conversation. "Vic, speaking of money, we need to talk about how we're going to split the bet money from the church…."

Sam stepped forward as Mrs. Jones passed him to go upstairs, grabbing his love's hand. "Mercy? Is everything okay?"

"My dad isn't happy, Sam." She told him. "The thing is, I don't think it has anything to do with you or us or what we did. I think he's going to miss me."

"Why wouldn't he? You're his daughter. If I had a daughter and she came home engaged, I think it would kill me." Sam replied. "Little boys are fun and everything….they're like your buddies, your mini twins. But little girls are your heart and soul. I'm taking that away from him."

"But Sam, it's not like we're not getting married right away." Mercedes replied. "He knows I'm finishing school and everything first."

"But you are going off to college and starting your life. All he's going to have are your pictures to keep him company. You're moving on. I'm sure he's happy about it, but that doesn't make him miss you any less." Sam frowned, realizing that he was also talking about himself. "I'm gonna miss you like hell when you're gone and we're only going to be apart for a semester. I can't imagine how he feels knowing that you'll be gone for four years. Maybe even longer."

She hadn't considered her father's feelings about the changes in her life. They'd discussed it briefly in yesterday's conversation, but she hadn't asked him how her decisions were affecting him. From a young adult perspective, it was her life to govern. But, from a parent perspective, the one Sam brought to her attention, it was a nearly eighteen year relationship being severed for an indefinite period of time. Her heart broke for her father. "You're right, Sam. It won't be the same." Mercedes bit the corner of her lip, as she watched her father light the grill and season a couple of steaks, thinking hard about what to say to him. "I have to tell him that some things stay the same, even during the changes."

"Like how you feel about him? How you'll always feel about him?"

"Yeah." She softly answered, turning to face Sam. The sadness on his face surprised her. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He smirked, though his eyes grew damp. "I guess I kind of sympathize with him. Graduation's a week away and…"

"I'll be leaving." Her eyes softened. She realized how much she'd miss her parents and her home, all of the familiar friends and hangout spots that she called her own. How painful it would be to leave them behind….leave everything she loved the most.

"I'll always love him." She whispered, cupping his cheek. Sam nodded, blushing a bit. Their eyes met in understanding.

"I know you will." He nodded, leaning into her soft fingertips as they wiped away a single tear from his cheek. "He'll always love you, too."

Mercedes brought his head down, pressing her forehead against his. "Start my laptop and log on to skype. My computer password is your name, the less than symbol and the number three. I'll see you in ten."

Sam pecked her cheek and ran upstairs to her room. He paused in the middle of the staircase, thinking over her password.

"The less than symbol and the number three make a heart." Sam barely contained his smile by biting his bottom lip, the laughed in spite of himself at his own silliness, and continued on.

Mercedes took a deeply cleansing breath and met her father on the deck, bringing the condiments on the kitchen counter with her as a means to start conversation.

"I brought ketchup. Can we make cheeseburgers? Sam loves the way you make them." She started, resting her peace offerings on the table beside her. Mr. Jones grunted and speared the roasting steak, flipping it over and pressing it against the hot grill until it sizzled and oozed. Before Mercedes could beg him again, he pulled out a plastic container of seasoned ground meat and began forming the patties.

"They're the best when they're freshly made by hand. I never liked that pre-packaged stuff." He grunted, placing the container of meat on the side rack. He slid it in her direction, silently inviting her over. Mercedes smiled and joined him, taking a handful of meat to assist in the burger making. She bumped her hip against her father's thigh, making him chuckle.

"Remember when I accidently bought the block of cheddar cheese instead of the slices and we had to make the cheeseburgers differently?" she reminisced, throwing her formed patty next to his on the grill.

"Ha! Our in-and-out burgers. How could I forget?" laughed Mr. Jones. "I had to scrub charred cheese off the grill a solid week after, 'cause the cheese cubes in the middle seeped through the meat and melted on the grill."

"Some of the best burgers we've made together, though." Mercedes replied, forming another patty. "Right?"

"Of course. Here, turn the hot dogs for me." He handed her some metal tongs and motioned to the roasting franks in her corner of the grill. "Why do you think I still make them? They're practically tradition now." Mercedes turned the hot dogs and rested the metal tongs on the side rack. "Jett's not into barbeque like us. He'd rather be the kitchen."

"But he loves football." Mercedes reminded him. "Got that from you."

"That he did." Mr. Jones smiled. "That's our tradition." His smile quickly fell, remembering his son. "He and Lucas don't come over often enough for us to play, though. All I've had for a while is you….and barbequing."

Mercedes nodded. "I know. A couple more years and Jett can retire from the force. Then you won't be able to get rid of him." She laughed.

Mr. Jones looked at her for the first time since they stood there. "He won't barbeque with me, though. And you'll be away at school."

"I'll come back for breaks."

"Not all of 'em, bug. It'll start out that way, but I know how this goes. Sam's going to be your family now. I know you won't forget about us, but your priority will be with him. It's a good thing, don't get me wrong. That's how it's supposed to be." Mr. Jones sighed, brushing a bit of soot off his nose. "I just didn't think it would be so soon."

Mercedes laid her head against his shoulder, sighing after him. "In all fairness, I wasn't expecting him to come so soon either. But I can't say I'm unhappy about it."

"He really cares about you, Mercedes." Mr. Jones nodded. "I pray that it lasts, for your sake. It's going to be work, but you two can do it. I wouldn't have given him my blessing if I didn't believe that."

"I know." Mercedes smiled, kissing his cheek and leaning up to take the hot dogs off the grill. Mr. Jones flipped the burgers over, pressing tiny cubes of cheese into their softer centers. Mercedes watched him and smiled at the memories.

"You know, Sam really likes to barbeque too, daddy." She began, watching him from the corner of her eye as she formed another burger patty. "We were actually talking about buying a house someday with a large deck so we can keep a grill."

"That's nice." Mr. Jones replied softly. "It's always good to keep a grill in the house."

"But see, I don't think he's quite at that grill master level yet. We might need you to come over a few weekends to show him the ropes."

Mr. Jones softly smiled. "I'd like that. I don't mind passing on a few tricks of my trade."

"But the secret cheeseburger recipe stays between us, right? He can't learn that one." Mercedes nudged his shoulder, meeting his eyes, and smiled. "It's a Jones thing."

"Just between us. I like that." His smile grew, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. " It'll be just for us."

"And when we have children and they get older, well…." She sucked her teeth. "We're going to _have _to have you over to teach them how to barbeque, too. I mean, they have to learn from the best. So keep your retirement schedule open, okay?"

Mr. Jones laughed. "You'll get tired of seeing me around your house."

Mercedes grew serious. "I'll never get tired of having you around, daddy. You're one of my best friends."

His eyes watered more quickly than he anticipated, shedding tears before he could catch them. "You're my partner in crime, bug. I'm really going to miss you."

Mercedes squeezed his waist, burying her face in his chest. He wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders, rhythmically patting her like he did when she was a baby. She sniffled against him, and he dropped his spatula to hold her tighter, food on the grill forgotten.

"Babe, I have my mom and dad on Skype. He came back from work ear—Oh." Sam paused at the sliding door, realizing he'd interrupted an intimate moment between father and daughter. "I'm sorry. I'll wait inside."

"No, it's ok Sam." Mercedes and her father slowly pulled apart, turning their faces to discreetly wipe away their tears. "I was coming inside anyway."

Sam nodded, stepping back into the house. "I'll be in the living room with mom and the laptop."

Mercedes smiled at that. Her mom had become _their _mom. His parents were _their _parents.

"Ok. Dad and I will be in soon." Sam closed the sliding door behind him, saluting them with a smirk before walking away.

"Daddy?" she took her father's hand and sandwiched it between her own, unknowingly doing the same to his heart in the process. "We're going to go and announce the engagement to pop and Mama Vic. Are you coming in with me? I want the whole family to be there."

Mr. Jones pursed his lips, growing accustomed to the new ideal of his family. Sam and his parents had been a part of the fold for a while. Their kids just decided to make it official, joining them as in-laws.

"Let me just take the meat off the grill and pack it up. I'll be inside." He grinned. Mercedes grinned back and let him go, running inside behind Sam.

The burgers were thoroughly cooked by then, so he packed them away in a closed container. The steaks were medium well and edible, but most of the home's consumers preferred their meat well done. He packed them away in an open Tupperware container, covering it with aluminum foil to distinguish it from the rest. He would finish grilling it after the announcement.

Mercedes patted the seat beside her on the couch as he wiped his hands and approached them.

"I saved you a seat, daddy. They're on the line."

Mrs. Jones and Sam were already seated to Mercedes's right, so all of their faces filled the screen as Mr. and Mrs. Evans took their seats before their webcams.

"Now, is the gang all here?" Mr. Evans began. "This announcement must be important, eh son?" Sam nodded when his father winked in his direction.

"It seems we're going to have a new little Evans in the future, pop." Sam grinned. His parents' faces fell in horror.

"Please tell me that Mercedes isn't pregnant, not while I'm still on God's green earth and a state away from whooping your behind." Mrs. Evans started, squinting at him.

"No! It's me! I'm the new Evans. We're getting married! See?" Mercedes held the ring closer to the webcam for their inspection. Their smiles returned, more radiant than before. "And I'm not _little_, Sam. Short and little have two totally different meanings."

"Ahh! I knew it, I knew it! I knew it was only a matter of time. Congratulations!"Mr. Evans clapped. "Did you follow my advice, Sam?"

"Yes, sir." Sam chimed in. "My heart and my mind made the same decision. It's a done deal." Mercedes eyed Sam curiously. He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "It's an Evans men conversation, babe."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes, then whispered, "I'll get it out of you later."

"Just try." He whispered back, stealing a kiss.

"Aww, look at them. Gosh, I tell you, I couldn't have asked for better. Mercedes honey, welcome to the family. We can't wait for the I Do's." Mrs. Evans gushed. "Which is, I assume, after college?"

"Absolutely." Mrs. Jones chimed in, interrupting Mercedes's reply. "We can't have them moving too fast now. I just hope they remember to stay away from temptation and keep chaste until graduation."

"Of course! They know better than to put the cart before the horse! Right, Sam?" Mercedes's and Sam's eyes widened, looking anywhere but at the screen or each other. Everyone except Mr. Jones furrowed their brows.

"You're already having SEX?! Where's my belt?! Pat, slap that boy and shake him for me until I can get there!" fumed Mrs. Evans, grabbing and violently shaking her computer screen.

"Not before I slap my own, Vic! Mercedes Patrice Jones!" Mrs. Jones exclaimed.

"We are going to have a serious discussion, young man." Added a stern Mr. Evans, making Sam's ears turn red. Mercedes groaned, dropping her head in her hands. She tipped over and fell onto Sam's shoulder.

"It was only a little bit of sex…." Sam murmured quietly, turning even redder from the lie.

"Sam, now is _really_ not the time to tell them how much sex we had…" Mercedes growled through gritted teeth.

"And exactly how much sex _did _you have, young lady?" Mrs. Jones sassed, fist poised at her hip. "And answer real carefully 'fore I snatch you up by that premium yaki number twelve jet black I paid for and bend you over my knee!"

Mr. Jones, unable to contain his mirth any longer, playfully tapped an imaginary glass in front of the webcam to catch everyone's attention. "I don't mean to interrupt our joyous family time, but I just want to say that I knew that they were having sex since yesterday, and ironically, I am the only one reacting to it with a level head about it! You know, _me, _the one that everyone labels the _hothead_? Just saying."

Sam and Mercedes groaned together, shaking their heads in each other's embrace as their parents' yelling voices jumbled and clanged chaotically in their ears.

"I told you we should have just gone to a hotel and texted them from bed." Sam whispered harshly, earning the deadliest glare from his fiancée.

Thankfully, the doorbell rang and quieted the conversation.

"I'll get it." Mrs. Jones grumbled. "Don't move, _both_ of you."

Mercedes scowled at her father, snickering beside her at their misfortune. Her foot none too gently contacted his shin as her mother turned the corner, and his smile gave way to a grimace.

"Oops!" Mercedes said lightly, smirking against Sam's shoulder. "Sorry, daddy."

"I cannot _believe _you, Sam! Wait until I come up there, just you wait!" Mrs. Evans scolded, slapping the counter beside the computer. "Oooh, if I could just reach into this screen and..."

"Vic, calm down. Remember your blood pressure." Mr. Evans warned, rubbing her shoulder to relax the tension in her muscles. "Besides, it's not like they can undo the deed. It happened. We all just need to sit down and have a talk."

Mrs. Jones returned, remaining by the doorway as she addressed the group. "Bug..."

"Mama?" Mercedes frowned, puzzled by her mother's sudden quiet voice. The yelling she could handle. The grave, solemn voice frightened her to no end. "What is it?"

Everyone stood when Amelia, Mercedes's lawyer entered and stood behind Mrs. Jones, wearing the same guarded expression. Mr. and Mrs. Evans grew quiet as well, noting the change in tone.

"Mercedes, "Amelia began, sighing heavily. "We need to talk, honey. It's about Donovan's sentencing. According to the judge, it seems that you have some decisions to make. Unfortunately, I can't help you make them this time."

"What do you mean?" Mercedes replied, anxiously gripping Sam's hand.

Mrs. Jones stepped toward her, cupping her little girl's cheeks. "Sweetheart, they've moved the sentencing up to next week Friday."

Mercedes's and Sam's eyes widened. "That's graduation day!" cried Mercedes. "Mama, they can't do that!"

"That's not all." Interrupted Mrs. Jones. "They want you to have a say in what happens to Donovan."

"What do you mean what happens to him?" asked Sam, moving to stand behind Mercedes and protectively hug her waist.

"Pat, that's the judge's job." Mr. Jones began, looking back and forth between his wife and Amelia. "Isn't it?"

"Before he makes his decision, he wants to have a meeting with Mercedes. He feels that she has a more intimate knowledge of the family and their story. Like me, Judge Eldridge values the truth above all else. The last thing he wants is to rule unjustly." Amelia answered. "Donovan isn't being convicted for the previous assaults, only yours. However, the judge is ready to give him the maximum penalty under the law. That is, unless you think the ruling should be amended in some way."

"Are you telling me that I have the power to sway the judge's decision on Donovan's sentencing?" Mercedes asked in disbelief, feeling slightly lightheaded from the news.

"I'm saying that he's giving you the authority to influence it. It doesn't happen often, but when it does..." Amelia frowned at the fear in her client's eyes. "Honey, please don't think that you have to lie or dress up your experience to make it look better than it was. If Donovan deserves maximum penalty, then that's what he'll get. Justice will stand with or without you, honey. All he wants from you is your truth, whatever that is. After that, it's all out of your hands."

Mercedes breathed and nodded, silently counting a few of her breaths to remain calm. "How much time do I have before the meeting?"

"Until next Thursday, before the trial." Amelia answered. "I can be present in the room with you. You won't be alone, I promise you that."

"We'll be there." Mr. Jones told his daughter. "We'll wait for you outside or by the door, whatever you need."

Mercedes breathed and nodded again, feeling a bit more relaxed. "Sam?"

"Darlin', you know you're never getting rid of me." He smiled. "Fat chance of that happening."

She rested her nose against his stubbly cheek, smiling against his skin. "I love you, Mr. Evans." She whispered, gently rubbing the hands pressed against her stomach. "Please don't ever let go."

Sam tightened his hold around her waist as he pressed a kiss to her hair. "I love you more. And I won't, not ever. I promise."

**O-O**

**A lot to take in, I know. Unload all your thoughts and feelings in a review! Give me your unfiltered reactions! **


	32. Another Author's note!

Hello Readers!

After receiving some interesting private messages and persistent reviews, I had to make a quick note to clarify some things for my readers.

First, this story is still a Samcedes centric story. The purpose of my latest chapter is to begin to close a portion of the storyline that greatly affected the main characters and those around them. That's it. I enjoy writing my original characters, but they are simply players in an overall storyline that centers around Mercedes and Sam. I thought the way I'd written each chapter had made that clear, but apparently it wasn't clear enough.

Secondly, the Donovan/Erin/Ana storyline was not created so that I can "manipulate" my readers into feeling sorry for rapists or abusive people. A crime is a crime. I will never excuse rape or abuse. The intention was to give fresh perspective on those that perpetrate the crime. All actions have a source and a reason. Whether or not that reason makes sense is a subjective matter, but there is a reason nonetheless. My aim was to show how easily innocence can be corrupted. Perhaps even start a dialogue over judicial punishment versus rehabilitation. Is it possible to re-learn behavior? Can people who've grown so used to violence ever change? Is punishment enough? Do we ever address the victim inside of the attacker? Again, we all have varying opinions on the matter, but it deserves discussion. But rape and abuse are always wrong in my book, period. The end.

Lastly, I cannot write on demand. I know lovely, talented people that can whip up stories like instant rice and still keep its flavor and integrity. I have not reached that level of artistry. I'm a slow-cooker. My work takes time. Please don't ask me to give you sub-par work on demand when I can promise you my best in exchange for a few more days to work. I can't give you less than my best, not as a writer or a person. I'm all-or-nothing in my approach to my creative work and always have been. Please be patient with me. I will answer your questions and write you quote-worthy lines. I will tie up loose ends in story arcs and give your favorite characters their deserving end. Time is precious, but it is what I require to produce for you. I can give you mediocre, but you and I would only be left dissatisfied and hungry for more. I want you to devour each chapter, take your fill, and leave my page with something of substance.

If you want something from me sooner, then sharing your thoughts, ideas and words of encouragement would help. Not just for me, but for any writer. Inspiration keeps the creative juices flowing. Our readers happen to be our greatest and most abundant source of inspiration. Take advantage of your power and become your writer's muses.

That's all for now,

KurlyQ722


	33. Chapter 31 Graduation

**A/N: First off, Amber Riley won Dancing with the Stars. I type this with little to no shock, since every one of her fans are well aware of the fact that Jesus favors her individually. No seriously, I'm pretty sure the cherubim and seraphim have an Amber Riley fan club. Her owning that mirror ball was written in the book of life. Any other turn-out would have been the marking of the end times, so clearly the hour of judgment isn't yet upon us. But I digress...so happy for her!**

**As always, major props to my beta Jill for all she is and all she does. Happy anniversary to you and the hubby, dear! Don't kill him! LOL **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, dear readers. I certainly enjoyed writing it! Most importantly, I enjoy feeding your imaginations and giving you the Samcedes character development that Glee failed to give us. The court scene in this chapter may not be the most legally accurate, but I tried my best. **

**Xoxoxo from my heart to yours, **

**KurlyQ722**

**O-O**

"Would you look at them? Sickening. Absolutely sickening."

Mike caught the tail end of Santana's comment to his girlfriend as he approached their lunch table. His mind was still pre-occupied with the final details of his Valedictorian speech. "What's sickening?"

Tina smiled at her boyfriend and kissed his cheek, pointing to the couple directly across from them. "She's talking about Thing one and Thing two here, attached at the hip. They're inseparable."

Mike quickly jotted down a clever quote that came to mind on his notepad, then tucked it away in his back pocket for safekeeping. "What's so wrong with that? I think it's cute!"

Sam and Mercedes were too immersed in their activities to give their friends' conversation any attention. Each had their hand on either open end of Sam's music history book, reading the text together. The soulful sounds of Aretha Franklin blasted through his girlfriend's zebra-striped earphones as they read, one bud nestled in Mercedes' left ear as Sam jammed along to the one in his right. They nodded to the beat at the same time without realizing it and, much to Santana's disgust, had a synchronized method of turning pages when they'd finished reading a particular section. Sam would nod twice when he finished, being the slower reader of the two, and his chin would brush against her temple. Mercedes would smile and nuzzle him back, then gently move his thumb aside to turn to the next page. On occasion, he'd press a kiss her forehead, and she would return his affections by tilting her head to kiss the curve of his jaw. Their eyes never left the book throughout the entire exchange.

"Puppies and bunnies are cute. This is just….demented," Santana complained, scrunching her nose in distaste when they both happily sighed in unison. "They're like the cheesy end of a Disney movie."

"What's your beef, Satan? Isn't this what we've worked so hard for? With the planning of their reunion performance and everything?" Tina asked, dipping a carrot in ranch dressing to feed to Mike. Santana scoffed when he fed her one in return, then gagged when the Asian couple rubbed noses.

"Ugh, look who I'm talking to! You guys aren't any better." Santana frowned. "Honestly, I feel like the black licorice in a halloween bag of Hershey's kisses. If all of that mushy mess doesn't lead to dry humping or at _least _the chance to cop a feel, then what's the point?"

"What's the point of what?" Mercedes asked, wrapping the cord of her headphones around her IPod as Sam jotted down a few notes in his notebook.

"Of what you guys were doing, all that couple-y crap that I just can't get into," Santana replied, popping a ketchup and hot sauce soaked fry in her mouth.

"Well, Sam needed help with his music history homework….."

"And, since my fiancée is well versed in all things treble and bass clef, we thought it would be a good idea to study together….." Sam added, smirking in her direction.

"….but, Sam would procrastinate on the reading because he thought it was boring. So, I gave him an incentive." Mercedes finished, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders as he continued notating.

"Really?" Santana smirked, "What incentive?"

"This." Sam grabbed Mercedes' chin and caught her off guard with an impassioned kiss, allowing her only a moment to gasp and smile in between before he tilted his head to kiss her again. "And I figured, hey…..we get to spend time together, homework gets done, and as a reward, I get free kisses and snuggles. Win-win." he grinned, tapping her nose. Mercedes giggled and fanned his hand away.

"Improve your grades _and_ get some tongue action? Now that's my kind of multi-tasking!" Santana grinned, thinking of all the naughty possibilities with Brittany. "Respect, Trouty. I underestimated your game."

Sam smirked as he finished his notes, pulling out his book again to flip back to a portion of reading he'd missed. "Babe, who's Big Mama Thornton again?"

Mercedes took a sip of water from her bottle and answered, "African American blues singer from the 50s. Her real name was Willie Mae Thornton. She was the first to record _Ain__'__t nothing but a hounddog."_

"Wasn't that Elvis?" Sam asked in confusion, flipping back to earlier chapters.

"No, she was the first. Elvis was the one that made it popular. Most people don't know about her."

"How come? She was the original singer. Why doesn't she get any credit?"

"She was a black female artist, Sam. Relatively unknown and unimportant." Mercedes explained. "She didn't have any composing or recording rights to the lyrics, so why would she? Elvis took it, ran with it, and earned his 'King of the Blues' title. No credit necessary. White male privilege, babe."

"What?! They could just do that?" Sam asked, genuinely appalled. "Damn, white people. You scary."

Mercedes hummed in agreement. "Ain't that the truth. It still happens now to some artists. The only difference is that we have a little more voice in the courtroom if we try to sue."

"We've got to make sure that doesn't happen to you, Mercy!" Sam urgently insisted. "Quick, we need to copyright all your poetry and stuff."

"Relax, Sam. My mom and I already talked about that. But thank you for trying to protect me," she replied, touched by his concern. "See? I told you Music History isn't boring if you get into it! When the information means something to you, then studying isn't a chore."

"I guess so. Who knew? " Sam nodded, brows raised in surprise. "I think I deserve some brain food after all of that hard work. Maybe some of those fries, with ketchup and hot sauce like Santana's. Smells really good. You hungry, babe?"

Mercedes nodded, feeling her stomach grumble. "Just get something on the side that we can share. I'm not starving, but I'm not feeling fries. Something with meat, maybe?" She told him as he stood.

"On it." He answered with a charming wink, tapping her nose before he went to get their brain food.

"Don't get the chicken parmesan though!" Mercedes yelled after him. Sam nodded in acknowledgement, joining the lunch line.

"But you love how the lunch ladies make chicken parm, Merc," Tina chimed in, chewing the last bit of carrot Mike fed her. "Not feeling it today?"

"We can't share it. The sauce has parsley. Sam's allergic," Mercedes informed her, shrugging like it was a commonly known fact. "His throat would swell up."

"Well, look at you…..knowing your future husband's allergies." Mike teased with a smile, wrinkling his nose. "How adowable!"

"Oh, shut up." Mercedes laughed, tossing one of Santana's French fries at him.

"Hey!" Mike and Santana yelled, one laughing while the other frowned and guarded her lunch tray with her arm.

"Hispanics don't play with their food! Don't touch unless you want pain!" Santana warned them, though she threw her half-eaten fry in Mercedes' direction.

"Hey, neither do black people!" Mercedes said back, dodging the sauce-laden food before it hit her favorite blouse. "Why do you think I took yours?"

Santana smirked in spite of herself, throwing two more fries at her friend until one hit her cheek.

"Jerk!" cried Mercedes, tossing the fry on Santana's tray and cleaning her face with a napkin.

Santana laughed at her friend's misfortune. "Good for you. Got ketchup and hot sauce all over your face! I hope it burns!" she teased, sticking out her tongue.

Tina rolled her eyes at their antics. "Children. I'm surrounded by children."

"I'm back!" Sam placed their food-filled tray on the table, kissing his fiancee's cheek as he took his seat. "Missed me?"

"Eh….just a little." Mercedes giggled at Sam's exaggerated pout. "Okay, more than a little."

"Better." He smiled, inflating his left cheek and nudging it against her lips. Mercedes rolled her eyes and gave him a sloppy kiss, loudly smacking her lips for dramatic effect. "Eww!"

"You asked for it!" she laughed, wiping her spit off of his face. Mercedes glanced at the notepad near Mike's tray and briefly scanned his scribbled words. "Is that your speech for graduation, Mike?"

Mike nodded and offered her his notes. "Yeah. Read it over and tell me what you think. I want it to be perfect. It has to capture the essence of our class, you know?"

Mercedes pursed her lips, utterly impressed with what she'd read so far. "This sounds really deep, Mike. Professional, even. Go 'head!"

"Aww, stop. It's okay," he replied bashfully, taking back his notepad to pack it away.

"Oh Mike, I'm sure it's good." Tina told him, "You're such a perfectionist, but I don't understand why. It always comes out flawless in the end."

"It always comes out flawless _because_ I'm a perfectionist." Mike argued, poking her cheek. "Being type A is what got me to the head of our class, T."

"And being Type B is what keeps me with you." Tina explained, poking him back with a smile. "God only knows why we didn't kill each other after three years together."

"Because I'm sexy and you wuv me!" Mike sang in a cartoony, helium-inspired voice, wiggling his eyebrows. Tina agreed with a nod, laughing at his ridiculousness as she leaned in to kiss him again.

Santana huffed at their loving kisses, feeling more jealous than annoyed. "You guys are so lucky you're going to schools that are close to each other. Britt's gonna be all the way in L.A., while I'm stuck here serving tables and saving pennies so I can afford to get out of this wasteland," she whined, voicing her true frustrations. "It's not fair. I'm the only one that not gonna be with their other half next semester."

Sam promptly cleared his throat, catching the sad brunette's attention. "You're not the only one, San," he reminded her, swirling his fork in the pool of ketchup on his tray. Tina and Mike shared an awkward glance and broke their embrace. Mercedes sighed in frustration, hating the melancholy look on his face. It was nearly impossible to be happy about graduation when Sam was so unhappy about her leaving.

"It's just for now, Sam. Don't be sad," she softly reminded him. "We'll call each other, text, face time….it'll be like we were never apart."

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's only a couple of months, right?" Sam shook away the dark feelings and smiled, faking it for her sake. He didn't want her to feel guilty about starting her college life. "Then, I'll graduate, re-apply, and we can be together."

"Right." She smiled encouragingly. "We'll sneak away to each other's dorms in the middle of the night…..have pillow fights….."

"Build forts out of our comforters and chairs…." Sam added, eyes alight with ideas. "Carve our names in one of the trees on campus….."

"Camp out on the beach…build a campfire and make lots of s'mores." Mercedes leaned closer, feeling the amorous mood grow and ignite between them.

"Go swimming…..or we can go in the water and do other things." Sam smiled, pressing his lips against hers as he reminded her of their L.A. weekend a few months ago.

"Make love…" she whispered, feeling her breaths grow shallow from his nearness.

"Make lots and lots of love…" he whispered back, sealing the promise with his lips and tongue.

"Hey! HEY! We're supposed to be talking about _my hurt _here!" Santana threw a broccoli floret at their joined mouths, but they simply ignored the vegetable as it bounced off of them. "Screw you both! Selfish asses."

Sam and Mercedes raised their middle fingers in unison, joining their knuckles together and wiggling the digits in front of her as their kiss intensified.

Santana huffed and crossed her arms, slinking lower in her seat. "You two are fucking lucky you're cute. I would have cut you by now."

The couple laughed, adorably crinkling the corners of their mouths, and their two half-grins pressed together resembled a complete smile.

**O-O**

Tuesday evening, the sisters of the circle convened after their group session for an emergency meeting. Even though the girls weren't included in the trial, Mercedes made a conscious effort to include them in her decision to speak with the judge. Their opinions and thoughts mattered to her, as her sisters and as fellow survivors of Donovan's violence. It felt wrong to exclude them.

"Are you kidding me right now?! Fry him, girl! Tell that judge every gritty, grisly detail and convince him to give that ass wipe life in prison!"

Of course, given their anger toward Donovan and the judicial system in general at the moment, Mercedes knew to take their responses with a grain of salt.

"Guys, I understand how pissed you are. Believe me, if anyone gets it, I do. But I'm not asking you how you feel about Donovan or the court decision or anything. I'm asking you to be objective, for me," Mercedes pleaded, quieting the angry murmurs around her. "If we weren't directly involved in this case, given all we know about him, what would you tell the judge? What would you suggest for his sentencing?"

"Well, I would say electric chair, but I'm pretty sure it's illegal now," said one girl.

"Maybe we can use my jumper cables and do it ourselves!" said another.

Mercedes sighed tiredly in her hands, shaking her head as the girls continued to suggest forms of torture. The room quieted when the door creaked open, revealing Bee holding two large bags overflowing with shimmery decorations.

"Girls?" she started suspiciously, making a mental note of their close proximity and upset faces. "What's going on? And why are you meeting in my office after hours when I'm not here? Our group ended thirty minutes ago."

"Mercedes has to tell the judge what she thinks should happen to Donovan. She asked for our advice, and we said that he should get electrocuted. Castrated. Or hung. We could do it ourselves if the judge wants," one girl answered unapologetically, smugly smiling at the thought.

"Why are you even stressing this anyway, girl? You know what he did to us!" Another girl asked Mercedes. "Why are you constantly trying to go easy on him? Forget that big-sis-used-to-touch-me-at- night bull crap he tried to guilt trip us with at Nationals. That doesn't excuse what he did! He should get what's coming to him!"

"You don't think I know that? I'm not trying to go easy on him. I'm trying to do what's right!" Mercedes yelled back, growing more irritated from the debate. "The only reason I brought any one of you into this is because I wanted my girls to be my sounding board. I wanted you to help _me_ with _my _case, not help me crush Donovan so you can get your revenge."

"Why the hell shouldn't we want to crush him?" Another girl replied. "Do you know what he did to me? It took me five years to even talk about it! That bastard should get life and rot in prison!"

Bee noticed the elevation in their voices and decided to intervene, before it got too out of hand. "Girls!" she clapped, silencing the group once again. "We've talked about this! Vengeance is only for the victim, remember? What is this I'm hearing? Why are my girls regressing?"

The group remained silent and still, shifting in their seats. "It's not fair, Bee."

"What's not fair, honey?" Bee said gently, addressing the girl that spoke. "Tell me why you're really angry."

"Mercedes gets a trial and reporters and attention. She gets to be _heard__,_" she replied. "Thanks to some stupid statute of limitations and messed up evidence, we don't even get to tell people what happened to us. We don't get our justice. Why doesn't anyone want to listen to us? Our stories matter, too!"

"Of course they do, honey. Whether or not you're ever heard in a court room or on the news doesn't make your story any less valid. You survived a rape. Donovan was your attacker. Everyone in this room believes that," Bee assured her, taking her hand. "Even if the law says that your testimony has no bearing on Donovan's sentencing, I can promise you that your experience does matter. I'm almost certain that he wouldn't be in the amount of trouble that he's in now if you guys hadn't stepped forward. Anger is your right as a human being, but wanting to murder someone to get revenge doesn't do anything except make the innocent guilty. Look at what happened to Eva."

Everyone's face fell at the mention of their friend. "Fifteen years for assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder. It's not right."

"No, it's not. But that's what happens when we act out of feelings instead of acting on reason. Revenge can never heal the hurt. Never," Bee told the girls, pulling up a chair to join their circle. "I thought my father's death would somehow make up for what he did to my mother, for hurting her to the point of suicide. But you know what? When I went to his funeral, all I felt was empty. You wanting to maim Donovan tells me that there's a debt that you feel will be repaid with his pain. What will you get back if Donovan's hurt?" Blank stares met her questioning one, all falling away as they thought. "Happiness? Your life? Will you get that moment that he raped or assaulted you back? Will his death be due penance for what he did?"

"It would be a good start," One girl mumbled.

"But where would it end?" Mercedes questioned both the group and herself. "I don't want any payback, Bee. He doesn't owe me anything. I just want to make sure he doesn't do this again, to me or anyone else." She sighed and added, "And I'm sorry that I get to go to trial and you guys can't. It kills me."

"Mercedes, we've spoken about this. Don't take ownership over circumstances outside of your control. You didn't dismiss your sisters' cases. The justice system did." Bee reminded her.

"I know." Nodded Mercedes, nibbling her lip. "But I do have some control over this part, don't I? Donovan's sentencing?"

"You have influence. Control implies that you have the final say. You don't." Bee clarified, "You're not the judge over his case. You're a survivor and a witness to Donovan's character. Speak from that experience."

"But, my gut says…." Mercedes hesitated, realizing that she had the rapt attention of the room. "You wouldn't like it. I'm afraid I'm just thinking this way because I know about Donovan's past. God, why do I always do this? Why can't I just shut my heart off?! I just want to be angry at him and agree with you guys. Before therapy and all the work I did on myself, I would have been right there with you. But now…..now I just want him to get help. I'm done with him. I just want him to get the chance to do better, something no one else has given him. Is that stupid? Is that naïve?"

Bee smiled, radiating with pride. "No, sweetheart. That's forgiveness. That's moving on. You might not realize it, but thinking that way is extremely healthy. You're far ahead of the curve, honey."

"Really? Huh." Mercedes asked, shocked and a bit proud of herself. "I really feel like I have forgiven him, you know? I thought I was getting weak."

"Concern for other's health and well-being is not a weakness, even if the person in question is the one who attacked you. Girls, I know this may be hard for you to grasp now, but someday, you're going to arrive to similar conclusions about Donovan. He will no longer symbolize the threat in your life. That's my desire for you as your therapist. I want you to see yourselves and others in truth and learn to embrace it. It's hard, but I truly believe you'll get there." Bee returned her attention to Mercedes, touching her shoulder. "Follow what your gut's telling you, Mercedes. This is your case. Don't make your decisions for us or anyone else. Tell the judge what _you _think."

A quiet, dark haired girl across from them stood with a heavy sigh and walked over, crouching in front of Mercedes. "Whatever is supposed to happen will happen. I'm your sister. I support you, Mercy."

One by one, the rest of the girls murmured the same sentiments, nodding reassuringly at her.

"Thanks, guys." Mercedes smiled. "I guess I have to figure this out on my own. I've never been in this position before."

"I think the reason you're really struggling is because you still have questions." offered Bee, patting her client's shoulder. "Where do you believe your answer is? Figure that out, search out the person or entity that may possess it, and you'll get your peace."

**O-O**

Faith left the airport in a simple oversized shirt and comfortable pair of leggings, dragging her singular piece of posh luggage behind her. The Louis Vuitton logo scattered across the leather exterior was the only indication of her wealth. Everything else about her seemed common, approachable even.

Typically she had a tendency to over pack for trips, but her journey back to Ana relieved her of the need to overstuff tons of baggage with unnecessary things. For the first time in a long time, Faith felt the overwhelming desire to travel without excess, ridding herself of anything beyond the bare necessities before she made her way home. Her wallet and impatient temperament thanked her for the decision during luggage check-in. She breezed in and out of security in record time compared to her past trips, and didn't have to pay for any excessively overweight bags. That hadn't happened in _years. _She almost shoved the credit card back into the attendant's hand when she read her receipt.

Packing light had quickly grown on her.

Mr. Bailey's rusted red pick-up truck stood out like a sore thumb amongst the silver and grey line up of luxury cars. Faith smiled when Erin waved at her from the driver's seat. The sight almost broke her. Her last memory of Erin was of her sitting on the steps of their old house, fumbling with the "bunny ears" as she learned to tie her shoes. How was she driving already? When did she learn?

There were so many jagged blanks to fill, pitted gaps in her mind she yearned to level off with comfortable memories.

Erin climbed out the car and slowly made her way toward her, reaching a hand out to take her carry-on. Faith's smile dimmed when Mercedes exited the passenger side door and followed after her.

"Mercedes! I didn't expect you to come with Erin to meet me." Her tone was surprised, but not unpleasant or displeased. "It's nice to see you under different circumstances."

"I came along to ask you some questions if that's all right," Mercedes replied kindly, offering her a handshake to ease her alarm. "I have to meet with the judge on Friday about Donovan's sentencing. He wants to hear what I have to say so that he can make a fair ruling. But before I do that, I needed to speak with you."

"Oh, of course. Mrs. Bailey told me about the trial." Faith nodded. "And thank you. Not many people would invest so much time and thought, considering what he did."

"I'm not most people," Mercedes said matter-of-factly.

Faith nodded slowly, viewing the girl in front of her in higher regard. "I'm starting to see that," she said, smiling softly. "Well, shall we? We can talk on the way if you'd like. Maybe pick up something to eat? I'm starving!"

**O-O**

The women found a small Jewish bistro along the way that served kosher and organic foods. Since Faith was on a health kick and Erin had recently decided to go vegan, it was a winning choice. Mercedes didn't care either way. She was too wound up to eat anything.

"We should stop somewhere so we can eat and talk. I would say my house, but I kind of don't want to bring it there. Mom's still pretty unsettled about our conversation in the hospital," Erin informed them, shoveling a wad of vegetable stir fry in her mouth before handing off her carton to her sister. Faith took Erin's carton and chopsticks in surprise, looking to her sister for an explanation.

"It's good. You should try it. I would try yours, but I don't eat shrimp anymore," Erin said flatly, pushing the food toward her before she started up the truck. Faith sampled her sister's food without protest, smiling faintly at the familial gesture. "Aren't you hungry, Merc?"

"Nope, just ready to talk," Mercedes replied, a bit anxiously. "My house is a bit out of the way from here. And no offense Faith, but my parents kind of hate you."

"My moosic?" she asked, mouth full off sauce-drenched broccoli and sugar snap peas.

"No, because you're Ana," Mercedes explained. "I told them about the conversation in the hospital."

Faith swallowed hard, suddenly losing her appetite. "They're not gonna go public or anything, are they?" she worriedly asked.

Mercedes shook her head. "My folks aren't like that. They'll keep it to themselves. You're just not their favorite person right now."

"Oh, good. If I'm gonna share, I want to tell the world on my terms," Faith declared. Her face grew solemn as she looked out the window. "And I can't blame them. I hate me, too. Our lives never should have turned out like this." The guilt drew her features, aging her face. " I should have just told him no."

Erin and Mercedes' eyes met in the rearview mirror, curious and utterly confused by her statement.

"Told _who_ no?" Erin asked. "Donovan?"

"Donovan didn't want any of what we did, not really. I made him think he did," Faith answered. She hugged herself tight, curling up in her seat. "God, I was such a child! I was so selfish, so foolish…"

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" asked Mercedes, sitting forward to pop her head between the front seats.

"I mean me, who I was! I was smarter than him! I should have fought, or figured out a way around his manipulation. Anything but what I did." She sighed. "Faith is perfect. Ana always makes a mess of things."

"What are you talking about? Is this about Donovan's father?" Mercedes probed, her tone demanding an answer. Stress about the case and her near week long search for answers had worn her patience thin. "Ms. Hill, you have to be clear. You're talking in riddles and I can't understand you."

Faith remained silent, leaning her head against the cool window as she watched the scenery go by. Mercedes sighed in weary frustration and sat back, folding her arms. Erin kept her attention on the road, strangely feeling like an outsider in the conversation. Her memories of her early childhood were murky and fragmented. Emotions regarding certain people that were in her life remained with her—happy with her sister, distant but loving with her mother, frightened by her father—but their personalities were foreign. After her sister confessed to raping Donovan, Erin found herself questioning everything she'd thought about her past. What was real? What was made-up?

"Look, if you're not willing to explain, then I might as well go home. You're giving me more questions than answers."

Faith frowned when Mercedes mentioned home, then sat up and took a quick perusal of their surroundings. "Hey, I know where we are," she whispered. "Erin, quick. Can you turn left at the next light? Just keep driving until I tell you to stop."

Erin nodded, turning when traffic permitted. "Where are we going?"

Faith sunk her teeth into her lower lip, using the pain to keep calm as they approached familiar grounds. "I know a perfect place for us to talk about what happened."

**O-O**

Faith directed her to a patch of farmland, bright with rows of golden wheat stalks and an abundance of wild flowers. Erin didn't recognize the strange place at all, but a paralyzing panic gripped her heart and kept her frozen behind the wheel.

"It's so…beautiful now." Faith hopped out the truck and walked toward the small clearing in front of them, the only semi-circular patch of ground devoid of life. "Someone must have taken it over and tended to it."

"What is this place?" Mercedes yelled out her window. Faith ignored her and sat on the ground, fiddling with a dandelion weed as she lost herself in memories.

"C'mon, Erin. I think she'll talk here." Mercedes opened her door and stepped out, but realized that Erin hadn't moved. "Rin, c'mon." she tapped the passenger side door, getting her friend's attention. Erin's tears confused her. "Erin?"

"I don't want to get out. I don't like it here," Erin insisted, shaking her head as more tears came. "I want to go somewhere else."

Mercedes frowned deeply. "Why? What's wrong?" Her face relaxed, giving way to fear. "What is this place?"

"I don't know, I just…." Erin's breathing quickened, and her shaky hands turned the car key to start the engine. "Something's bad about this place. I can feel it."

"Do you know what?" Mercedes softly asked. When Erin didn't reply, only looked straight ahead with trembling lips, Mercedes opened the car door and reached in to touch her right arm. Erin jumped at the touch, but didn't pull away. "Erin…." Mercedes squeezed her wrist, capturing her attention a second time. "Think for a minute. Why did Faith bring us here? Did something happen here?"

"Yes…" she whispered, meeting her friend's eyes but staring right through her. Faith realized she was sitting alone and glanced back to the truck for her sister. When she saw Erin crying, she scrambled to her feet, running towards the driver's side.

"Sunshine…" Faith opened the truck door and took Erin's left hand, locking her fingers with hers. "C'mon. The land's not gonna bite you, I swear. There's no one here to hurt us now."

Erin took a second look at the land, and suddenly, she recognized it and knew. "This is it, isn't it? Where we were."

Faith nodded. "Yeah. You recognize it?"

"Is this where your home used to be?" inquired Mercedes. Both women shook their heads.

"It's where we lived…" Erin cryptically began.

"But it sure as hell wasn't home," Faith eerily finished, staring off at the land. "This place remembers our nightmares. It heard our screams. We buried our innocence here."

"We buried mama here, didn't we?" Erin's eyes widened, recalling the day more clearly than she expected to. "I remember. We had to carry her out. It was raining. We sang for her."

Faith weakly smiled and smoothed her sister's hair back, tucking the strands behind her ear. "You were really little then. I'm surprised you remembered that."

"Not as surprised as I am." Erin told her. "I haven't thought about that day in ages. It feels like forever ago."

"That's funny...it was yesterday to me." Clinging to her big sister's hand, Erin found the courage to leave the truck and walk toward the field. She paused at the place where the gravel parking area met the soft earth, took a breath, and stepped forward. When she crossed that invisible line between present and past, her mind started to piece images together, forming composite scenes, giving them color and life.

"The leaky pipe in the kitchen sink." Faith released her little sister's hand, letting it slip from her grasp as she familiarized herself with the memory of their old home. "It was over there. It used to be piled with dishes until you came home. The flies would swarm and buzz, and the drops of water would make a small ting sound when it fell against the glass. In the summer, the crickets would chirp along, and it'd sound like music."

"God's orchestra," Faith said with a smile, remembering her mother's words. "You sound just like mama, God rest her soul. She used to hear music everywhere."

Erin took careful steps around the empty land, crossing thresholds into rooms she envisioned in her mind, stepping over strewn piles of dirty clothes and jumping in piles of leaves only she could see. "Is that what she called it?" she asked Faith, hopping on one foot and twirling in place. "What else did she do?"

"She loved flowers. Used to grow heaps and heaps of them on the window sill, in all kinds of colors." Faith stepped to the right of her, into the place where their family room once stood, and pointed to where their mother would tend to her small garden. "The sun would hit this spot more than any other spot in the house. It was the perfect place for them to grow."

"Mama loved nature." Erin found comfort in the knowledge, feeling a deeper connection to her mother than she ever had. "What kinds of flowers did she grow?" she asked in a small voice, desperate to hear more good things about her mother. "Did she like daisies?"

"Oh, she loved them! Her little suns." Faith smiled, hearing her mother's voice in her head. "She would sing to them to help them grow."

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…_." Erin began, running her fingers along the stalks of wheat, pretending they were her mother's daisies. "_You make me happy when skies are grey…._"

"_You__'__ll never know dear, how much I love you_," Faith continued, lending her lovely voice to the tune as she watched her sister explore. "_Please don__'__t take my sunshine away._" She could still hear her mother's soothing voice singing in her ear, still see her happily shuffling feet as she watered her small patch of joy. "We were her flowers, rin. We were always her flowers."

"Is that why you sang those songs to me? After mama died?" Erin asked her. She stopped walking, caught off guard by her sister's watery eyes.

"You remember when I sang to you?" Faith cupped her hand over her mouth and nodded, trying and failing to keep her sobs at bay. "I wanted you to remember her. I wanted to help you grow." Overwhelmed with guilt, Faith fell to her knees and bowed to the ground, crying into the soil. "I'm sorry, Mama. I'm so sorry." She clawed the packed earth, clutching heaps of the dampened dirt until it squished between her fingers. "I didn't know how to protect them. I needed you, mama. I needed you to protect _me_."

Erin's first instinct was to hug her, but their conversation in the hospital still haunted her thoughts. She knelt in front of her sister and awkwardly laid a hand on her back instead, rubbing in light circles to calm her. Mercedes watched on from a short distance, silently listening to every word they'd said. Their eyes met, and Erin shrugged, nodding to her sobbing sister.

"What do I do?" she mouthed to her, silently pleading for an answer. Part of her still had trouble forgiving Ana for what she'd done. Part of her still wanted to protect herself from being hurt again, from receiving her again only to watch her walk away.

"Hug her," Mercedes instructed, motioning an embrace with her hands. Erin balked at the request.

"Yes," Mercedes insisted, nodding emphatically. With a heavy sigh, Erin leaned down and lightly circled her sister's shoulders. Before she knew it, Faith pulled her in and enveloped her in a crushing hug, kissing her cheek and crying into her shoulder. For reasons she couldn't name, Erin squeezed back just as tightly, and began to weep. Mercedes smiled when Erin pressed her face into her sister's shoulder and clutched the back of her shirt. It was what she has needed for the longest time.

After years of searching, Erin needed Faith to find her. She needed Faith to cling to, to surrender to, in order to find a lasting peace. Faith returned Ana to her, just like she'd always hoped.

"Why did you really start hurting Donovan, Ana?" Mercedes asked gently, stepping in to touch the woman's back. "You love him so much. It doesn't make any sense. There has to be more." Faith sat up and dried her red rimmed eyes on her sleeve, sniffling.

"His father would watch from the doorway. He'd peek in," she confessed. "If I let him watch me touch Donovan, then he would leave me alone and let me sleep. He wouldn't touch me."

Suddenly, everything made sense. "So, when you said that you should have said no…."

"He made me promise. If I didn't, I'd get it twice as bad and Donovan would have to watch him do it to me. He said he'd kill him and the baby." Faith cried, referring to Erin. "I couldn't let him do that. But God, I was so stupid. I should have seen through him. I should have known he was only using me. I never should have trusted it."

"You were a child, Ana!" Mercedes reminded her. "How could you have known that? You were fifteen and he controlled you."

"I was supposed to be their mother, Mercedes!" Faith declared. "I told mama I would take care of them. I promised her that no harm would come to them so she could pass off into the next life and not have to worry! I failed her! Erin and Donovan…..I failed everyone!"

"No, you didn't." Erin's reply silenced them both. "You didn't fail us, Ana. How could you? You were trying to survive. That's what mama wanted, for all of us." Faith shook her head in protest, but Erin held her sister's face steady, forcing her to look into her eyes. "You. Didn't. fail. Us. All of us are alive. And you came back, just like you said you would. That bastard's dead now and he's not coming back to hurt us."

Faith cried harder, trying to look away, but Erin shook her gently until their eyes met again. "I forgive you, Ana," Erin whispered through gritted teeth, meaning it from the pit of her belly. "I forgive you for leaving us behind. I forgive you for trying not to look back. I know what that's like. I didn't want to remember, either. But you're back now, and it's over. He lost. We're still here." Erin began to weep, for the childhood her father stole from them, for the division it caused. "We got out, Ana. _This_ is what the Promised Land looks like. We're _free_."

Faith cupped Erin's hands as they rested on her cheeks, clinging to her touch. "Free….God…." she laughed humorlessly, feeling a weight lift from her. "I was a terrible mother to you and Donovan. I've hurt you both so much….." she whispered, broken by the thought.

"That's okay." Erin smiled. "We had a good mama. Hell, I've had two. But my family's not complete without my sister. I need her back." Her smile fell away, lips trembling and crimson. "Can we try this again?"

Faith's lips quivered into a smile as she nodded. "I think I can manage that."

Erin pressed their foreheads together, sighing as all of the blockades she'd built around her heart rumbled and collapsed, allowing her to finally love her sister the way she'd always intended. Faith took Erin's free hand in hers, holding their joined fists up between them. "You can never have too many sisters." Erin replied, smiling as she glanced between her best friend and her blood.

Mercedes took Erin's free hand, clasping it tightly. "No, you can't." she replied, grateful for the sister life had given her.

Unknowingly, the siblings reunited in the very spot that used to host an old, wooden rocking chair in their living room. Erin and Donovan's father met his death in that chair, consumed by smoke and engulfed in flames ignited by the glass of whiskey he held in his sleeping hand. And if Erin and Faith had taken notice, they would have spotted a smaller patch of clear land hidden within the thicket of wheat stalks, where a lone daisy sapling thrived in the midst of weeds and wildflowers to bear its first petals. Just underneath its roots lies a grave, dug by their soft and pliable hands years ago, housing the bones of their beloved mother, who found death far too soon.

**O-O**

A flurry of McKinley red caps and gowns crowded the stage on Friday morning, seating themselves in neat rows of dark blue chairs as they listened attentively to their Valedictorian's speech. Mike's words were both moving and encouraging, touching on both the joys of their high school days and the promise of happiness that lay before them in their future endeavors. Mr. and Mrs. Jones were seated in the third row from the front, taking an insane amount of pictures of their daughter. Mercedes would sneak in poses when Coach Sylvester wasn't looking in her direction, pouting her lips and making all kinds of eyes for the camera. Santana, Tina, Quinn and Kurt, all sitting behind her, poked their heads to be included in a few of them. Sue soon caught wind of their shenanigans and slapped her long metal ruler on the ground beside them, shooting them a warning look. It was her last disciplinary act as teacher and arch nemesis before they graduated, and she intended to take full advantage of it. To her satisfaction, they all sat straighter in their seats and kept their eyes forward.

Sentimental tears and hugs weren't her thing. Senseless torture was.

Sam watched his friends get in trouble and laughed from his seat, two rows behind Mr. and Mrs. Jones. His parents, sitting on either side of him, were less than amused.

"Honestly, I don't understand why that woman is so mean. She's about to pop out a child of her own for goodness sakes!" Victoria exclaimed, gesturing to coach Sue's rounded belly. She was due any day now. "Her attitude is so unattractive. How is she ever gonna keep a man if she continues to act so brutish?"

"I don't think she's very interested in keeping a man, Vic." Mr. Evans smiled, noting her short haircut and baggy athletic wear with a skeptic eye. "I think she's the type that only uses them for one thing. After that, she's mom and dad to that kid."

"What does she use men for, daddy?" Stacie innocently asked, climbing into his lap.

"To have a baby," he quickly answered, distracted by Coach Sue and his suspicions of her sexual orientation. He grimaced when she parted her legs and scratched the underside of her protruding belly in plain view of the audience, without a single care in the world.

"How does she do that?" Stevie asked, joining his sister of their father's lap. Mr. Evans finally looked down at the innocent faces waiting for his answer.

"Ummm….well…."

"Men have baby seeds, guys," said Sam, answering on behalf of his flustered father. "Women have gardens in their bellies. She took some, planted them, and now a baby's growing inside her."

"A garden?" Stacie lifted her shirt and poked her belly. "Really?"

"Baby seeds? Cool!" Stevie exclaimed. "Where are they?" He followed his sister's lead, lifting his shirt and poking around to search for his hidden 'seeds'. Thinking a moment, he also checked the inside of his pants, wondering for the first time if his penis served a higher function than peeing.

"Stevie, maybe if we can find your seeds, we can plant them in my garden and have a new baby sister!"

Sam laughed at their innocence. "That's not how it works, squirt. Mom and Dad have to have the baby for it to be your brother or sister. Besides, you and Stevie can't have a baby together."

"Why not?" pouted Stevie.

"Because only married grown up people can have babies, pumpkin. Even if you were big like Sam, you and Stevie can't get married because you two are brother and sister."

"Oh, yeah." He laughed. "That would be gross."

"Eww." Stacie wrinkled her little pointed nose in distaste. "I don't even like sharing the bathroom with him."

"Exactly," Mr. Evans smiled mischievously while tickling his little girl. "Plus, babies are expensive! You can only have one when you find someone you love, marry them, and decide together that you're ready for the responsibility."

Stacie's eyes lit suddenly lit up. "Wait! Mahcedes and Sam are gonna get married! They can have babies, right?" Sam's cheeks warmed and colored.

"Only after they graduate college and get married, sweetheart."

"But I want a baby now!" Stacie whined, pouting so her big brother could see. "Why can't you just plant your seeds in Mahcedes' garden so she can have a baby _now_? Then, when you get married, it will be big, and we can play together."

"Stace, I don't think Mercedes and I are ready for a baby yet," Sam explained, a bit uncomfortable about the sudden attention on him. "Mercedes wants to win a Grammy first. And I want to create comics and write stories. We will gave plenty of time for a baby in the future."

"Good." Stevie smiled. "That's a long, long time away."

"Aww! No fair!" Stacie frowned, crossing her arms and stomping back to her seat. Another brilliant idea came to her. "I can give you all the money in Stevie's piggy bank so you can afford the baby. Then, will you put your seeds in Mercedes?"

"Stacey, enough with the seeds and baby talk! End of discussion." Mrs. Evans demanded, fanning her face. "Not one of you is giving me grandchildren any time soon, hear me?"

"Yes, momma," replied all three of her children.

"Good." Victoria anxiously tapped her foot, trying in vain to pay attention to the rest of Mike's speech. "Sam, remind me again how many times you and Mercy….you know….?"

Sam sighed and repeated the same practiced script he and Mercedes had decided on. "We had sex once, and it lasted less than a minute because any longer would statistically make it more likely for her to get pregnant, so we stopped. I used the thickest, sturdiest condom possible and neither of us enjoyed it one bit. We won't have any more," he answered in a robotic voice. He, his mother, and God himself knew that entire story was a lie, but lightning hadn't struck him yet, so Sam counted his blessings.

"Right, right." Mrs. Evans sighed in relief, tousling his hair. "Good boy. Calm Momma's blood pressure. You know, I don't have many years left on this earth…"

"Momma…" Sam whined, sounding an awful lot like his little sister. "No guilt trips. We're abstinent, I swear. Let's just hear the end of Mike's speech."

The family listened on as Valedictorian Chang concluded.

"I couldn't leave this place without giving it a true Glee farewell. So, in the words of the group Semisonic, 'Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.' Mckinley brought out the best and worst in us, but we found ourselves. High school is over, but our journey is just beginning. Keep on keeping on, senior class. We have much greatness to accomplish!"

The graduating class and their families gave him a standing ovation. Sam cheered and whistled the loudest for his friends. Mike caught sight of Sam in the audience and waved his diploma, smiling in relief and utter joy. To Sam's surprise, the diploma soared through the air and landed in his hands. Shocked, he looked to Mike, who simply winked and pointed in his direction.

"Your turn's coming soon, Sammy." His mother whispered, kissing his cheek. Sam stared down at the simple roll of weighted paper, and imagined the day when his name would be printed underneath the McKinley logo.

"Yes it is," he said, to himself and his mother. "I'm gonna get my diploma."

When his friends and fiancée crossed the stage for the second time and tossed their hats in the air, Sam smiled in pride and tossed an imaginary hat of his own. Watching his class graduate set a new fire in Sam's belly. Whatever sacrifices he had to make, whatever he had to do to accomplish it, he was determined to finish high school and catch up to them.

His biggest inspiration was already running in his direction, holding her graduation cap in place to prevent it from falling as she jumped in his arms.

"We did it, Sam!" she exclaimed, bouncing excitedly as she hugged him. "We did it! Are you proud?"

"Of course!" he smiled genuinely. "And I have a surprise for my graduate!"

Mr. and Mrs. Jones met up with their daughter and greeted their future in laws, watching as Sam handed Mercedes a bright green bag with purple and blue ribbons.

She gasped and closed her eyes, feeling around in the bag. "Wait, don't tell me. I'm gonna feel it and guess what it is." Her hands found several squares of plastic, all stacked in a row and tied together with another piece of ribbon. "They're….CDs?"

Mercedes opened her eyes and pulled them out, inspecting them. Her eyes lit up and watered when she read each label. "You recorded songs for me?"

"Yeah. You said that all of your good memories have songs attached to them. I thought, if something good happens on campus when I'm not there, you can play one of them. That way, it'll be like we're sharing the moment. I can be with you without actually being there….for now," Sam explained. "I covered a lot of your favorites, too. Look."

He pointed out one of the CDs in the middle, underlining the title with his finger. "You did an _Aretha _cover?!" laughed Mercedes. "Sam, you're crazy!"

"Only about you," he replied with a bashful shrug. "Only with you."

Mercedes pulled him close to kiss him, mindful to keep it light and chaste around their parents. "Thank you," she said warmly. "I love them. And since we're giving out presents…."

Sam playfully gasped when she pulled out a small velvet box. "Oh my goodness, you didn't!" he exclaimed, waving his hands. Stevie and Stacie laughed at how silly their brother sounded.

"Open it." she quietly ordered, placing the box in his palm. Mercedes carefully watched his face as he opened the box, and slowly, all traces of humor left him and sobered into genuine emotion.

"Mercy…." He said quietly, pulling out the simple, platinum band embedded with small, starburst diamonds. It was beautiful, yet masculine. "You were serious about that engagement ring thing, huh?"

"What, you thought I was joking? I never kid about jewelry, Sam," she said in jest, though she anxiously awaited his reaction. "Do you like it? Is it too much? We can make it simpler if you want."

"No, it's…." Sam was at a loss for words. It wasn't often that he was on the receiving end of such elaborate gifts. The love he felt in the gift, from his future wife, overwhelmed him. "It's perfect."

He tucked the velvet box away in his pocket and handed her the ring, stretching out his hand. "Do the honors?"

Mercedes nodded with a smile, slowly sliding the ring on his left hand and removing the purple string that served as its placeholder. "This doesn't weird you out or anything, does it?"

"Hell no," Sam declared, holding it up to the light. "I'm man enough to wear an engagement ring my fiancée gave me. It makes me feel….pretty." He flashed his lengthening hair, whipping it across his shoulders until he earned her laugh.

"Them's real diamonds too, cowboy." Mercedes informed him. "And look closer at the band."

Sam squinted, reading a small group of numbers written in cursive underneath the diamonds. "They're the coordinates to our star! Mercy, you're amazing. That's so awesome." Sam had purchased a star in their name a few days back, as a homage to all of the dreams they'd accomplish together in the future. Apparently, the symbolic gesture meant as much to Mercedes as it did to him.

"I paid for it myself, too! Not one penny from daddy's bank account." she bragged.

"I have the credit card statements to prove it!" yelled Mr. Jones, earning a slap on the bottom from his wife.

"One more thing." Mercedes stepped closer and took his hand, slowly twisting the ring around. "Read right here. I made sure the jeweler added that on."

Sam read the small inscription engraved in the spot free of diamonds and tried his hardest to keep his tears at bay. "_My home is with you…_" Sam's watery eyes met his love's, and he gently cupped her cheeks and pulled her closer. "My home is with you too, Mercy."

She stepped into their kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving little care to the eyes around them anymore as she parted her lips and pulled him deeper. Stacie smiled and clapped her hands at the sight, running over to tug her father's shirt sleeve. Mr. Evans crouched to her level and offered his ear.

"I think Sam's gonna give her his seeds very soon!" she whispered to him, winking and nodding her tiny blonde head with knowledge that far exceeded her seven years.

**O-O**

"Remind me again why I'm slaving away, cleaning up after graduation under this hot sun, when I could be partying it up with my friends at Sugar's Mansion?" Santana asked herself, throwing the question in Puck's direction.

"Because Figgins is paying us two-hundred a piece to set up and break down, you and I both love money, and we'll still have time to party it up after its all over," Puck replied, whistling as he wheeled away the stack of chairs near the stage. "With fat ass pockets, I might add."

"Oh, right." She smiled, patting her jean pockets for good measure. "I do love those presidents. Franklin especially."

"It's the only time I ever paid attention in history class," laughed Puck, wheeling a mop and bucket her way. "Now c'mon, we have to mop and polish the stage. If you mop and I polish right after, we'll get this done and celebrate with the Smirnoff I stole from my dad's probation officer."

Santana dunked her mop in the lemon scented water and crossed her handle with his. "To entrepreneurs like us. Getting that paper wherever we can and however we can."

Puck nodded and knocked his mop handle against hers in their pact. "When we're rich, we'll look down on all our poor friends from our diamond encrusted pools and pimped out mansions and laugh at their struggle."

"To the hustle!" Santana cried, plopping her wet mop on the stage floor.

"To the hustle!" Puck cried back, following suit and mopping right behind her. "You know, if I were a chick, I'd like to think that I'd be a lot like you. Sexy, kickass, diva-fied…"

"Not to mention sexy," Santana added, moving her mop in clean, even strokes across the floor.

"I already said sexy. Gotta say it twice?" joked Puck. Santana winked at him and nodded. "Should have known. You're like the sister I'd be terrified to have, but would most likely get."

"Speak for yourself. I've had too many men in my life. You're cool and all, but I need more ovaries in my circle." Santana's ears perked when she heard a familiar, deep chuckle come from behind the curtains. "Jorge, you're still here? I thought you went home with mommy. Quit spying, you creeper!"

Her older cousin appeared onstage, dressed in his construction clothes. "I wasn't spying, dork. I was getting more footage for your graduation tape. See?" he pointed to the video camera in his hands, indicating the bright red record light above the lens. "A true filmographer never stops creating his art. He's inspired wherever he is and captures it through the eye of the lens."

"Trying to pass time before your shift?" Santana guessed, nodding to his work clothes. "Because you and I both know there's nothing inspiring lying around here."

"Yeah, pretty much." Jorge sighed. "You know, I found a bunch of mold and rat crap near the costume rack in the back closet. If we spin it right, I could send my footage to ABC and have it featured on those 'Don't let this happen at your school' segments. We could make bank, holmes!"

"Your cousin is Mexican?" Puck frowned, noting the thick and distinctive accent.

"My mother's father's side. I only claim the republic." Santana informed him. "Dominicana for life!"

"Hey! Mexico's the one holding the camera lens, alright? Unless you want me to keep all the unflattering footage of your ass when you walked across the stage, you'll start singing _Himno Nacional Mexicano_ right now and remember your allegiances!"

Santana held her hands up, playfully backing away with a smirk. "Fine, fine. All hail Jorge. He is the stick to my humble and misshapen piñata." She chuckled.

"Damn right!" he preened, turning off his camera. The cousins embraced, and Santana screamed when he lifted her off the ground and spun her around.

"Jorge, I have work! Stop, you ass!" she cried, laughing hysterically.

"Tani, why are you so light? Auntie's not feeding you?" he asked, squeezing her tiny waist. "You getting Americanized now? If you want a Latino husband, you're gonna have to start packing on some weight! Especially that ass." Santana smacked his shoulder when he slapped her behind. "I'm serious! We like meat to hold on to! Don't promise a taco and forget the beef!"

"I'll be the one eating the tacos, Jorge. I'm a_ lesbian_, remember?" drawled Santana, resuming her mopping alongside Puck.

"Ehh, you'll grow out of that. It's a phase." Jorge said dismissively. Like most of Santana's family, he wasn't fully behind her newly declared sexual orientation. He still referred to Brittany as his cousin's 'best friend'.

"I wish you and abuela would stop saying that. It's not a phase, primo." Before they could continue the uncomfortable line of conversation, the three heard footsteps heading in their direction, followed by the sound of a very thick East Indian accent engaged in conversation.

"Shit, it's Figgins. Keep working," Puck urged Santana, quickening his pace.

Santana pushed her cousin in the direction of the curtains, his previous hiding place. "Go hide. Only authorized people are supposed to be here after hours. We already got in trouble for having the pre-sale table of bootleg graduation dvds for half-price. Tia Raquel would kill us if Figgins calls the police on you!"

Jorge ran back and hid, right when Figgins walked past the curtains with his two guests, unaware of the bulging mass he hit as he did so.

"We are so honored to have you visit our school, Mr. Simmons!" Figgins exclaimed, shaking the guest's hand. "We are such fans of your music here! I'm so down with all the new rap music out these days."

"My father's the real rapper, and he's far from new." Diggy Simmons chuckled. " I'm gonna get to that level real soon. But I honestly don't need any special treatment. I just came to support my cuz at his graduation. Education's real important to my family."

Santana was usually unfazed by a celebrity's presence. To her, they were just ordinary people that got really lucky and super rich. Why fuss over them? But, when Figgins mentioned Diggy's musical connections, it sparked a gloriously ingenious idea.

"Damn, Mercy better thank me later," she muttered to herself. "Mr. Simmons?" Figgins, Diggy, and his cousin looked up as a denim-clad Santana sauntered towards them. She gently pulled her scrunchie out of her hair as she approached them, sexily flashing her dark wavy locks. Diggy fell for the bait, just as she anticipated, jaw dropping as he took in her curvy form in hip huggers and a small white t-shirt.

"I don't mean to interrupt you, Principal Figgins. I just had to meet him in person. Hello." she reached out her hand, dazzling him with her pearly whites. "I'm Santana Lopez. And you are way, way sexier in person."

"I'm Siggy Dimmons," he replied, shaking her hand. "And you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!"

"Why, thank you! You know, Pilates does wonders." She did a quick turn, wiggling her backside in front of them. Santana laughed to herself when their eyes went exactly where she wanted them to. _Boys are so easy…._

"Not to mention all of my _yoga_," she added, clicking her tongue. "But enough about me, I want to talk to you about a friend of mine. Her name's Mercedes, and she has a voice anointed by the gods. I think you should help her."

"We can talk about that later." Diggy purred, pulling her into his arms. "I rather talk about you and me."

"Yeah?" Santana smirked, spotting the bright red record light glinting from the corner of her eye. She smoothed his hands down her waist, planting them on her hips. Santana stepped closer to him, lightly pressing her body against his, and Diggy's hands drifted dangerously close to the curve of her backside.

Figgins cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable and ill-equipped to deal with the situation. "Umm…Mr. Diggy, this is one of our graduates, Santana Lopez. Ms. Lopez, I believe you are now…._well acquainted _with Mr. Simmons."

"Not well enough," the teen celebrity murmured, licking his lips as he peeked down the scoop of her shirt.

"We could head outside to your limo and ….talk." Santana whispered. "But, I'm gonna need you to help my girl out first."

Diggy stepped back, finally seeing through her ruse. He'd been used enough to know when to spot a gold digger. But, to Santana's credit, it was the first time that a female's sex appeal had clouded his judgment so readily, rendering him blind to her game.

"I don't do favors to get favors. You either roll with me because you're into me or you stay on the curb. Business is for the office," he told her. "I'm sure your girl can blow, but I'm not gonna help her just because you're pretty and I want you."

"That's not what the tape says!" Jorge sang, jumping out of his hiding place. Santana rubbed her hands together as he ran toward them, showing them a play by play of their short interaction on his screen. Diggy watched himself in horror, from the lusty look in his eyes to where his hands were on her body. There was even a shot of Santana rubbing against his crotch, something he hadn't noticed at the time.

"Yo, delete that mess! I have a girlfriend!" Diggy tried to snatch the camera from Jorge's hands, but years of thievery had given him the advantage of dexterity.

"Not so fast! This video goes on YouTube, Facebook, and anywhere else it can possibly go viral unless you help out my cousin's friend out." he told the boy.

"What? That's blackmail! I can take your ass to court for this!" Diggy angrily yelled. Santana, without hesitation, pulled out her cell phone and pressed four, calling up her violent miscreants. With one utterance of the word 'ayudame', seven buff, Hispanic men appeared from every corner of the auditorium, almost from thin air.

"You were saying, Mr. Simmons?" purred Santana, resting against the buff shoulder of one of her cousin's henchmen. The size of one of his biceps appeared bigger than her head.

Diggy gulped. "What was your girl's name again?" he squeaked.

"Mercedes Jones, holmes." Jorge told him. "Just have your father hear her once. If he likes her, then he can hook her up."

"If he doesn't, which I doubt, then he can ignore her," Santana shrugged. "No biggie. We can find other avenues."

The scenario was so ridiculous, that Diggy had to laugh. James and his principal were cowering on the floor in the corner. There were seven men covered in tattoos waiting to beat him up unless he listened to this manipulative flirt's friend sing. There was a small Mexican man recording him from behind a high school auditorium curtain. From the outside looking in, it was pure comedy.

"You know, you should be a lawyer. You really know how to make an argument," Diggy told Santana, smiling coolly. "Alright, I'll help your girl out. Does she have a tape or something? A video on YouTube? "

"Better." She smiled. Santana fished around the inside of Jorge's jacket, pulling out a DVD labeled 'Mercy's Performance.' "Would a full DVD of a live concert be alright?"

Diggy's eyebrows rose, utterly impressed. "Yeah, I guess." He smiled, handing it off to his cousin. "Keep that safe, James. I'ma give that to dad later." Diggy turned back to Santana, taking her hand. "And as for us, senorita…" He flirted, kissing her knuckle. "What happened here stays between us, right?"

"Absolutely." She grinned. "Oprah couldn't get this story out of me. I expect a call from the big man soon. Nice doing business."

"And that, ladies and gentleman, is how you professionally hustle," Puck said with a nod, fist bumping one of the muscled guys as they shared an understanding chuckle.

**O-O**

Like Santana, Mercedes couldn't be a part of the graduation festivities until much later. Her parents rushed her home immediately after the ceremony to change clothes for the trial. Trading her festive red gown for a solemn black pant suit with purple pinstripes had immediately transformed her mood.

"Bug, are you ready? We have to be there in fifteen to talk with the judge!"

"I'm coming, mama!" Mercedes yelled back, staring at herself in the mirror. The last time she wore her suit was at a cousin's funeral, the first major death she'd ever had in her family. He was killed in a tragic drunk driving accident, run over by an eighteen wheeler with a scotch-and -rum induced driver in the front seat. Her mother still has trouble saying his name aloud.

What else would die today? What other ending was she prepared to face in this outfit?

"Bug, we've got to get going. Are you finished?"

Instead of answering, Mercedes tripped down the stairs and met her parents at the door. They had also changed into mournful attire, but their smiles for her were encouraging.

"You're going to be absolutely fine, sweetheart," Mrs. Jones assured her daughter, straightening her collar. "It doesn't matter what happens today. We've already won."

"That's right. Let the justice system do what they need to with Donovan. Just tell the truth Mercy." Mr. Jones smiled. "You're so brave and daddy's very proud of you."

"Thank you, daddy." She smiled. "I'm proud of me, too. And I'm not afraid. I just want to get this over with."

"Are we ready?" Sam walked up the hall and took Mercedes' hand, kissing her fist. Unlike the rest of the family, Sam didn't have the time to go home and change. He still wore the brown and white striped shirt and corduroys he had on during graduation. "My parents are gonna meet us at the courthouse. They had to drop off Stevie and Stacie at Burt's house."

"Why didn't you go with them to change clothes? I know these pants make you itch." Mercedes told him, brushing his leg free of imaginary lint. "You could've worn jeans or something more comfortable."

"It seems like kind of a formal affair, Mercy." He told her, smiling softly. "Besides, I didn't want to leave you."

Sam's answer earned a smile in return. "Thank you."

With a sigh, Mercedes headed for the door, bringing Sam with her. Mr. and Mrs. Jones followed behind them, locking the door from the inside before they pulled it closed.

O-O

Judge Eldridge and Mercedes spoke in his office for over an hour. Within that time, Faith and Erin wheeled Donovan into the courtroom, parking his chair behind the defense's table. Their eyes briefly met the families on the other side before turning away, focusing instead on the empty judge's bench. The girls that had their cases dismissed sat behind them, murmuring hateful things that didn't escape Faith's ears. It hurt her heart to know her little brother had damaged so many lives.

Incensed by Donovan's presence, Mrs. Evans felt compelled to speak up. "I hope you're happy," she angrily spat. Donovan turned his head, meeting her eyes, but said nothing. "Look at the mess you've made, boy."

"Vic, don't," Mr. Jones gently instructed, patting her arm. "He's not worth the time or the effort."

The boy's faced dropped, near tears, before Erin cupped his cheeks and forced him to look ahead. Mercedes and the Judge came through the side doors at that very moment, both wearing equally grim expressions. Sam stepped forward to meet his fiancée and envelope her in a hug, whispering assurances in her ear as they walked back to their seats.

"You okay?" he whispered from behind her, pulling out her chair. Mercedes sucked in her lips and nodded.

"I think I will be," she whispered back, taking her seat and folding her hands on the table. They shook so hard that Sam took them into his own, sliding his fingers between hers.

"I'm here. You're okay," he assured her, smiling brightly for her sake.

"All rise! Judge Eldridge presiding!" yelled the baliff. The courtroom stood as the Judge walked to his seat.

"You may be seated," he said with a heavy drawl, patting his pale, sweaty forehead with a dry cloth. The courtroom took their seats on his command.

With his six foot tall frame, round body, and heavily arched eyebrows, Judge Eldridge could appear terrifying. It was only when he spoke that his facial features relaxed, and the tone of his voice sounded more like a loving parent than a tyrant. Having three grown children of his own, all daughters, helped him develop a balance between the two personas.

"Mr. McMann, we are here today to discuss your sentencing. First and foremost, do you still plead guilty to the charges against you of attempted rape and sexual assault?"

Donovan bowed his head in shame. "Yes, your honor. I do."

"And do you understand that the earlier ruling passed three days ago has rendered your defense of mental disease and defect inadmissible, thereby holding you responsible for your actions?"

"I do, sir."

"Very good." The Judge sighed heavily and slid on his glasses, reading the papers set before him on the bench. "Right here in my hands, I hold your future, son. It is my job as a servant of the law to rule fairly and justly, abiding by the rules and regulations set forth by the State of Ohio. In this case and all cases prior, I have never compromised that. However, each case that is set before me must be treated as unique. The last robbery case I've seen will not affect my judgment of the one that comes after it, for they are different scenarios involving different individuals. My perception of one will not carry over to the other."

Both sides nodded in understanding.

"In your case Donovan, I was prepared to give you the longest and hardest sentence possible. When I heard Mercedes' testimony a few minutes ago, it did very little to change my mind."

Faith and Erin took their brother's hands, squeezing anxiously.

"Yet, in spite of what you did to her, and to countless other women in this courtroom, she told me that she believed you needed a second chance."

Donovan's eyes widened, darting to Mercedes. She continued to look ahead, expression unchanging.

"With that said, I sentence you, Donovan McMann, to ten years in a medium security prison. Of those ten years, five will be spent in an in-house rehabilitation program for sexual offenders. According to our research, over ninety percent of its graduates have not had an offense within the five year mark of graduation. Because this program is mandatory and intensive, it must be done concurrently, with a minimum of two years in the program between every one to two years of prison time. You will be involved in cognitive behavioral and hormonal therapies, focusing on both the psychological and chemical root of your sexual deviance. Do you understand and accept this willingly, Mr. McMann?"

"I do, sir. I want to change," he sincerely replied. "I don't want to turn out like my father."

"Very good." The judge removed his glasses and handed the papers off to the Baliff. "Because of the nature of your offense, the court feels it would be best to place you near family, those who can monitor your progress and keep tabs on you. Ms. Hill, according to Mr. McMann's completed paperwork, he has listed you as his sister and guardian. As such, you will be entrusted with the responsibility of caring for him and housing him after the completion of his sentence. Do you agree to this?"

"I do, Your Honor," she answered, smoothing back her brother's hair.

"And you currently have properties in Kentucky, California, and Texas in your and your spouse's name, correct?"

"I do. My husband is aware of my brother and the circumstances. We are both willing to re-locate to wherever is closest to him," she informed the Judge. Faith hadn't told Tim about her history with Donovan yet, about her crimes as Ana. It would be discussed in due time.

"There are programs located in each state. He will be placed wherever there is adequate room for him," the judge told her. "Donovan, be warned. If you are evaluated after your five year stay in the program and have shown little to no progress, you will serve a full ten years prison time separately. If the program is effective, you will only serve five years. Work hard. I hate seeing youth repeating the same nasty habits as their parents and grandparents before them. If you don't want to be like your father, then don't. Do what he didn't do. Take the help this court is giving you."

Donovan's eyes grew darker and more determined, taking the judge's words to heart. "I'm gonna take it."

"Good." The judge wearily sighed and stood, banging his gavel. "Court adjourned. Baliff, take the prisoner away."

Though he was still in his chair, the baliff cuffed Donovan's hands and wheeled him away. Faith and Erin rushed to kiss him, crying as they promised to visit him soon. Donovan met Sam and Mercedes's eyes from across the courtroom and begged the baliff to give him a chance to speak with them. The baliff resisted at first, demanding that he close his mouth, but Mercedes assured him that it was okay and beckoned them toward her.

The survivor and the perpetrator stared at one another for a long moment, neither happy or sad, taking in each other's presence for their very last meeting.

"Did therapy help you? After what I did to you?" he asked quietly.

"It did," replied Mercedes. "I'm stronger and wiser now. Therapy rebuilt everything you tried to destroy in me."

He nodded and looked to his lap, staring at his handcuffs. "Do you think it can help me? Someone who spent most of their life destroying good people?"

"It could if you let it." she answered, "But you have to want to change, Donovan."

"I do want to, but…" he swallowed hard, fighting his urge to cry. He couldn't break down now, not in front of her. "If there's a God out there, can he forgive someone like me? I've done some of the worst things anyone can possibly do. Unforgivable things. Does he know that, in my heart, I really want to be different?"

Sam replied before Mercedes could. "We learned about this guy named Saul in the bible last Sunday. He used to slaughter Christians by the thousands. One day, he was riding along on his donkey, set to kill, and he had an encounter with the Lord. God's presence was so bright and powerful that it left him temporarily blind. The Lord asked him ' Saul, why are you persecuting me?' and instructed him to change his ways. God instructed him to help his people instead of hurt them. That day, God changed his name to Paul, gave him a new identity, and sent him on his way. Instead of killing the Christians, Paul completed his journey and spoke the gospel instead. He became one of the most important writers and missionaries in the bible. People still study his work today."

"Why'd you tell me that?" frowned Donovan, unable to see the connection.

"Mercedes' plea to the judge was your God intervention. He's giving you a chance to turn your life around," Sam explained. "Don't pull this crap again when you get out, though. I'm pretty sure he only gives you one chance for fuckery."

Donovan nodded, tearing up a bit. "I can't even begin to thank you for this...both of you." He told them with a quivering voice. "Nobody's ever done this for me."

"I know. That's why I did it," replied Mercedes. "Come out with a testimony, Donovan."

"I'm gonna try. For you, Mercedes." He smiled, and it was the first time that the action held neither manipulative charm nor sarcastic disdain. Only hope shone through him, and he resembled the little boy Mercedes saw in Erin's picture, wearing his lion costume and baring teeth in a futile attempt to appear ferocious. Just like all those years ago, the threat of him was now merely a costume, masking the boy with the cherub cheeks hidden inside.

The baliff grew weary and told him it was time to leave, wheeling him away. "Thanks for that story, Sam. I'm gonna remember that." Donovan called back, craning his head to look at them. "He was a murderer, right? That Paul guy?"

"Yeah." Sam cried back. "He _was_."

The entire court watched as Donovan's wheelchair disappeared behind the double doors. Unlike his past exits, there wasn't a chance of him coming back anytime soon.

"He _was._" Donovan whispered to himself, branding the words in his heart as they travelled down the corridor. _Was..._

**O-O**

The families left shortly after the ruling, pausing only a few moments to offer hugs and consoling words to the girls seated behind them before heading to their cars. Sam told his parents that he would ride with Mercedes, offering to meet up with them at her house. Their rental van trailed behind the Jones' car.

"You did it, babe." smiled Sam, tapping her nose when they settled in the back seat. "I'm proud of you."

"We did it." Mercedes corrected, tapping his nose right back. "I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you for being there. I know it wasn't easy to sit through the sentencing."

"For you, either. I couldn't have kept as calm as I did if you weren't so put together," added Sam. "It was hard, but you did the right thing. How did you find out about the rehab for sex offenders?"

"Research. It's been my best friend these past couple of months." she joked. "I printed off some information about the programs and brought it with me. If the stats weren't so successful, I wouldn't have suggested it. I'm glad I did, though. The reason why I'm better is because I got help. Maybe it will do the same for Donovan."

"I hope so." Sam sighed, taking her hand. "Honestly, I'm just happy he's out of our lives for good now."

Mercedes hummed in agreement, nodding as the scenery whizzed by her window. She frowned, realizing that they were going in the opposite direction of her home.

"Daddy, where are we going? Back to McKinley?" she asked, as the car turned right on her school's cross street.

"Yeah, just for a minute. Your counselor Bee...she uh...she said to meet her there. She had something to tell you." He replied, raising his daughter's suspicions even more.

"Bee called you? Why didn't she call me? She has my number." When her father's eyes shifted to the left, a clear indicator of a lie, Mercedes squinted and stared down the back of his head. "I don't believe you. Why are we really going?"

"What is it with you and the twenty questions, Mercy? Just leave it alone! It's supposed to be a surprise!" laughed Sam.

Her curious gaze flew to her fiancé. "You know, too? What's going on?!" she insisted. "Ugh, you guys know I hate surprises! How do I know if I'm ready for it? At least give me a hint, just one so I'm prepared."

"No dice, bug." Mrs. Jones chuckled. "Besides, we're already here."

Their car, followed by the Evans' van, pulled into the McKinley lot and found space to park. Stevie and Stacie hopped out the sliding door as soon as it opened.

"The twins are here, too? If this is some party, I'm gonna kill all of you. I'm not even dressed." Threatened Mercedes.

"You will do no such thing." Sam deadpanned, taking her hand. "C'mon. You're gonna be surprised whether you like it or not."

Mercedes followed in silence, pouting all the way to Bee's office door.

"I don't like it." She childishly complained. Yet, the moment the office door opened, her pout gave way to a delight that lit up her entire face.

Sam laughed at the change, ushering her ahead of him. "Still don't like it?"

The ceiling in the small room was decorated from end to end in gold and white streamers, draped above the crowds of heads packed in close proximity. When the audience saw Mercedes enter, they all jumped to their feet and applauded her in.

"What is this?" she asked Sam wondrously. "I thought you said this wasn't a party?"

"We made no such promise, princess." He grinned, "Besides, this isn't a party...not really, anyway."

"Then what is this?" Mercedes looked to her parents and Mr. and Mrs. Evans for answers, but they simply walked past her with smiles and took seats behind the podium in the front of the room.

"It's another graduation!" Stacie joyously exclaimed as she ran in, unable to keep the secret any longer.

Mercedes crouched down, meeting her at eye level. "A graduation? For who?"

"For you, Mercy." Stevie replied, taking her free hand to help his brother walk her to the seat marked with her name. "You're supposed to sit here."

Mercedes slowly sat, looking around in awe at all the familiar faces around her. Her glee crew waved wildly from their corner to her left, snapping pictures of her stunned face with their portable cameras. Kurt and Quinn held up a large black and white sign, painted with the words "You go, Mercedes!" in all caps.

Beside them sat her sister circle, poised in blue and white graduation gowns. Each girl had a small patch sewn on the space above their left breast, bearing the colors and crest of their group's logo. Erin left the group and ran toward the guest of honor, holding a small parcel in her hands.

"This one's yours." She smiled, handing Mercedes a cap and gown in her size. "I'd put it on before the ceremony."

"Rin, what's going on? What is this?" whispered Mercedes, more anxious than ever for answers. Erin giggled and quickly returned to her seat, just as Mrs. Jones took the stage. Patrice waved a hand to catch her daughter's attention and placed a finger over her own lips, instructing her to keep quiet. Mercedes complied as soon as her mother started to sing. In fact, the magic of Patrice's voice rendered the entire room still.

**I know the odds are stacked against you**

**And it seems there's no way out**

**I know the issue seems unchangeable**

**And that there's no reason to shout**

**But the impossible is God's chance**

**to work a miracle**

**A miracle**

**so just know**

**It ain't over until God says it's over**

**It ain't over until God says it's done**

**It ain't over until God says it's over **

**Keep fighting until your victory is won**

Three rows of men and women sitting behind Mercedes, all dressed in formal attire of different colors and styles, suddenly stood in unison. Sam and Stevie had to hold her arms to keep her from jumping out of her seat when she recognized their faces as people from her choir.

"Oh my God, what is this?!" she whispered, cupping her hands over her mouth. Sam felt her shake and hugged her shoulders, guiding her to his chest as she began to cry.

"I hope those are happy tears, love." He whispered, kissing her forehead. Mercedes could only nod and wipe her eyes.

**He never said it would be easy**

**But you're a winner in the end**

**Jesus defeated all your enemies**

**Way before the fight began**

The combination of voices rising to the heavens stirred the souls of all its listeners, mainly the small group of girls that had attended the court hearing. Of them, Erin, his sister, felt the lightest in spirit. She cried, both in mourning and rejoicing for her brother and his fate. She knew he was where he needed to be, serving the sentence he needed to serve to absolve him of his crimes. A gentle wind without source or reason crossed her body, covering the flesh beneath her sleeves in goose bumps as she listened to the words of the choir's song.

**But the impossible is God's chance**

**To work a miracle**

**A miracle**

**Just know it ain't over until God says it's over**

**It ain't over until God says it's done**

**No, no, no! **

**It ain't over until God says it's over**

**Keep fighting until your victory is won**

Patrice took the mike from the podium and stepped down to stand in front of her daughter. She took her hand and pulled her up as she led the next couple of verses, lacing their fingers as she sang to her.

**When people say you can't, just remember...**

_**(He can, he can)**_

**When you don't know what to do, please remember...**

_**(he has the master plan)**_

Bee tapped Mercedes' shoulder and handed her a free mike, encouraging her to sing along. Mrs. Jones nodded in assurance. They'd sung this number together dozens of Sunday Mornings, but this particular duet held a greater resonance than all of the other performances. Still overwhelmed by it all, Mercedes took a breath and joined in, leaving all of her questions for later.

**He will heal you from your sins**

**And give you peace within**

**So hold your head up high 'cause**

**You're gonna win! **

The choir slid right back into the chorus on her last line, stepping and clapping in time to the music. It was only then that Mercedes recognized the keyboard player in the right corner as her father. Joseph played on with passion, putting all the force and enthusiasm he could muster into the press of the keys. The connection to music and emotion was clearly a genetic trait. She locked eyes with her mother and rested their joined hands over her heart, mouthing the words '_thank you, mama'_ as she cried. Mrs. Jones, teary-eyed herself, answered her in song. The choir bellowed each line directly afterward in response.

**Keep fighting! (**_**Keep fighting)**_

**Keep praying! (**_**Keep praying)**_

**Keep fasting! (**_**Keep fasting)**_

**It ain't over, no! (**_**It ain't over, no)**_

Mercedes took over the next verse, singing more to herself than anyone else. Today was her day of completion, of graduating from the past to embrace her future. Her own words encouraged her.

**Keep pressing! (**_**Keep pressing)**_

**Progressing! (**_**Progressing)**_

**You've got to keep moving, yes! (**_**Keep moving)**_

**It ain't over, no! (**_**It ain't over, no)**_

Then mother and daughter sang to each other, one verse after another, as the rest of the room stood to their feet.

**P: Keep trusting! (**_**Keep trusting!**_**) **

**M: You can't stop trying! (**_**Keep trying!)**_

**P: Travail to your destiny, oh yes! (**_**Travailing**_**) **

**Both: 'Cause it ain't over no! (**_**It ain't over, no**_**)**

**P: Baby girl, keep living! (**_**Keep living)**_

**M: I'll give all I can, yes! (Keep giving) **

**P: Don't stop, don't stop moving! (**_**Keep moving)**_

**Both: It's not over! (**_**It ain't over, no!) **_

Their chins quivered, and daughter fell into her mother's open arms as all forms of speech left them. Patrice kissed the top of Mercedes' head and wept happy tears, rocking her baby in her arms while she still could. Mr. Jones, admiring the scene, ended the song with music alone, playing the keys until they tapered off into a soft outro. At the song's end, the room erupted in applause.

Bee stepped forward and took the microphone from Mrs. Jones, rubbing Mercedes' back as they remained in their hug.

"Good afternoon family and friends. Welcome to the first of what I hope will be many graduation days here in our sister circle." She began, addressing the crowd with a winning smile. "We gather here today for two very important reasons. The first is to acknowledge and celebrate how far our girls have come on their journeys. Some have been here a few months, some for years, and others for only a few weeks. Despite where each girl is in their healing process, they are to be embraced by their community and given a place where they can admire their progress. This is that time and that place."

The crowd cheered and whistled for their graduates. "The second reason is one that is very near and dear to all of us in the sister circle, for one of our own has completed her journey in full within a short span of time, proving that strength of will and hard work is greater than time in healing life's wounds. She is strong, courageous, honest, and possesses one of the most beautiful hearts I have ever come across in my career as a counselor. Mercedes, we celebrate you today in a spiritual and emotional graduation of sorts. Academia gives out diplomas and awards for excellence. We would be doing you and all that are inspired by you a true disservice if we didn't give you the same courtesy here. Mercedes Jones, your time here with us is over, but your ever evolving life walk to the woman you'll become is only beginning. By general consensus, the sister circle acknowledges you as our first ever valedictorian."

Mercedes' eyes widened in shock, remaining that way all throughout Bee's speech. When Sugar and Erin wheeled in the dove-shaped golden trophy engraved with her name, she felt the wind leave her and felt for her seat, insisting on sitting down before her knees could give away.

"Before we present you with this trophy and give you a chance to speak, some members of your friends and family would like to share a few words about how you've impacted their lives."

Bee and Mrs. Jones took their seats as Mrs. Evans walked Stacie on stage. Though small and painfully shy in large crowds, the little blonde girl took the microphone and addressed her hero with a bold voice. Stevie ran up to hand her a paper from his jacket pocket, giving her an encouraging thumbs up as he ran back to his seat.

"_Mer_cedes." She started with a grin, taking care to emphasize the correct pronunciation of her name as she read from her paper. "When I was scared of singing in front of a lot of people, you told me that I had a light inside of me. You said it was bright and beautiful, and that the only way people can see it is if I open my mouth wide and sing from my heart. A really bad man hurt you, but you kept on singing and never stopped sharing your light. You are my hero because you showed me how to shine by ezzample. I love you very much, and not just because you're gonna marry my brother and put his seeds in your garden one day to have babies I can play with."

All of the Evans' members in the audience slapped their foreheads, blushing as everyone else laughed. Mercedes laughed the hardest, loving Stacie's creative perspective on baby making.

"I'm gonna sing a song for you. It's from right here." Stacie told Mercedes, patting her chest as she placed the microphone on an empty seat. After a brief moment of feedback, Stacie took a breath and closed her eyes extra tightly, counting away the fear in her head until she found the courage to begin. And when she did, little Stacie's presence shone brighter than anyone else in the room. Her rendition of Annie's _Tomorrow_ brought everyone to their feet, especially when she rasped through to the end. She held that last glorious note until her entire body quaked from the power and her cheeks tinged pink with blood. Her brothers' stood on their chairs to clap for her, and Stacie politely curtsied amidst the applause, just like her mother had taught her. Mercedes ran up to hug her, and Stacie greedily wrapped her limbs around her hero's body to absorb all the affection.

"Did you see it? Did you see my light?" Stacie giddily asked, bouncing in her arms.

"I did! It was just as beautiful as I thought it would be!" Mercedes exclaimed, kissing both of her cheeks.

"Really? Do you think daddy got pictures of it? I want to see!"

Mercedes laughed and carried her back to their seats, insisting that the tiny soloist sit on her lap for the rest of the event. Stacie didn't fidget once.

Stevie proudly marched up after his sister, holding a large poster board in his hands.

"My brother's not the only one that can draw, Mercedes. I can draw, too." He declared, picking up the microphone. "I drawed you as a superhero, see?"

For a seven year old, Stevie truly had an adept talent for detail and structuring. Though the details of her face and body were a bit cartoon-ish in form, Mercedes had to admit that it was an impressive likeness of her. She was in a superwoman costume, red cape flapping behind her as she flew toward the smiling sun in the corner of the page.

"It's pretty good, huh?" Stevie smiled, cockily winking at his brother. Sam smirked, seeing right through his brother's game.

"This little boy ain't shit." Sam murmured to Mercedes, shaking his head.

"I wonder where he gets it from." Mercedes murmured back, winking at him. She reached out to accept her crayon portrait, then thanked the artist with a long, enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. Stevie held his face in shock, blushing and smiling as he returned to his seat. Sam, a bit annoyed with the competition for his fiancee's affections, slid his foot over and tripped his little brother's feet before he could sit down.

"Hey!" The brothers traded fists, punching each other's shoulders until Mercedes gently pulled them apart and sat Stevie on the opposite side of her. When she turned to scold the older Evans, Sam cupped her chin and kissed her lips instead, rendering her and his brother speechless for two very different reasons.

"I love you." He whispered, running his thumb across her lips. Mercedes smiled, leaning in to lock lips once more.

"I love you too." she softly replied before returning her attention to the stage. As soon as she wasn't looking, Sam teasingly stuck his tongue out at his brother behind her back. Stevie ignored him and took Mercedes' hand, watching the rest of the ceremony in defiant silence.

Erin went up next, removing her graduation cap and smoothing her unruly waves with her fingers before she spoke.

"When we first met, I'm pretty sure you hated me. If you didn't, you should have. I'm obnoxious when I'm nervous." Erin smiled, making the crowd laugh. "But, after a while, you gave me a chance and we became friends. Best friends, even. Hopefully, I've become less obnoxious by now."

"You have." Answered Mercedes, smiling, "Still got words for days, though!"

"Bitch dozens for the WIN!" yelled Artie, cheering for his girlfriend.

"Testify!" replied Santana, wiggling her hands in praise.

Erin rolled her eyes, smirking at their teasing. "Fair enough. But I love you, bestie. That will never change. When Donnie came back into my life and I found out who he was to you, I thought that I'd lose you forever. But I think, in some twisted way, that it made us closer. You know things about me that I've never shared with anyone, and you still want to be my friend. I've never had that before. Thank you for your sisterhood, Mercedes. Thank you for helping me to trust again, to believe in family again. You and me….grease and water, smoothing out the waves of life, right?"

Mercedes smiled and nodded, pleased that she'd gotten the analogy right. "Grease and water on the waves of life, Rin."

"Don't ever change, Mercy. If you do, only change for the better." And with those final words, the misty-eyed redhead took her seat. Mercedes glanced at the cap and gown in her lap, running her thumb across the patch bearing their sister circle crest. She slipped on the graduation attire without a second thought and straightened up in her seat, wearing it with pride.

Tina and Quinn performed a marvelous dramatic reading of Maya Angelou's 'Phenomenal Woman' for the festivities, followed by a rather moving prayer from Joe for each girls' growth and happiness. The graduates were touched that he'd taken care to call each of them by name.

When it was time for the girls to accept their special diplomas of emotional growth, the rest of the glee club took the stage, singing Vitamin C's graduation song softly in the background as they marched.

Bee awarded each girl a virtue, one that fit their personalities and their journeys thus far. Erin's award was too ironic.

"For you Erin, I award you Faith." Bee told her, handing her the diploma roll tied in ribbon. "You lost it at a very early age, when your own family hurt and abandoned you. You found it again here, with your sisters, and learned to believe in people again. And now, you stand before me fearless and strong, holding fast to the idea that anything and everything is possible for you. And it is, Erin. Faith means taking the reins on the intangible, hoping in wonderful things that no one else can see yet. Never lose that. You hold the power over the seemingly impossible."

Erin shook her counselor's hand, then pulled her in for a well-deserved hug, whispering her thank you's in Bee's ear. Mercedes stood and clapped for her sister.

Finally, after everyone else took their seats, Bee called Mercedes to the stage to accept her diploma and award. The entire room stood as she did, cheering her on until she reached the stage. Mercedes moved the tassel over on her graduation cap and stood in front of Bee, awaiting her awarded virtue.

"For you, Mercedes, I award love, the most difficult and wonderful virtue of all. Love is clearly what brought you into this world." said Bee, smiling at her parents. "You were fortunate enough to find friendship, a love that turns strangers into family." Mercedes looked back and winked at the glee club and her sister circle. "And you've found someone worthy of giving your love to, a person who will cherish your heart as if it were his. That's truly rare."

"It is." Mercedes smiled, glancing at Sam.

"But most importantly, your unselfish concern for those that have hurt you, namely your attacker, has made you a survivor. Mercedes, the light inside you is unyielding. It illuminates all the darkness around you and forces it to transform. Because you loved, others will learn to love by your example. Thank you for entrusting us with your journey, sweetheart." Bee said gratefully, tearing up as she handed Mercedes her award. "Love hopes all things, believes all things, and endures all things. It never fails. You have hoped, believed and endured more than most will ever have to in their lifetimes. Never once did you fail. You won."

The crowd clapped once again, stomping and hollering as Mercedes stepped behind the podium. When the applause and cheers quieted, Mercedes leaned into the microphone to speak.

"I wish I had a bigger word than thank you." She cried, bowing her head as she dabbed away her tears. "When I first came to the circle, I had pre-conceived ideas about therapy. I thought that I would be forced to share things I wasn't ready to share and have to expose myself to complete strangers. I was scared. But, the first thing I felt during my first meeting was an overwhelming sense of acceptance. You've never pushed, shamed me, or made me feel uncomfortable. I've found wonderful new friends in my sisters, and these months I've spent with you all have changed my life for the better. To my glee peeps, my first loves, I thank you for helping me find the music again. You've stuck by me through every single part of this ordeal, and when I told you about Donovan, you didn't once blame me for what happened. In fact, you tried to take matters into your own hands and beat him to a pulp. You're idiots sometimes, but you're my idiots." The crew laughed, cheering for themselves. "And you're all irreplaceable. We have to keep in touch, okay?"

"We'll twitter stalk you!" yelled Finn, earning more laughs from the audience.

Mercedes smiled and shook her head, grateful for the ability to joke about such a serious time in her life. "To my folks, my mommy and daddy, thank you for believing me when I told you what happened. Thank you for standing by me every step of the way, even the parts that made you uncomfortable. You fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself. You're the best parents anyone could ask for. I've always dreamed above and beyond the clouds, but that's only because you gave me my wings. I'm grateful."

Joseph Jones took his wife's hand and squeezed it gently, nodding humbly at his daughter's words. Mrs. Jones kissed his cheek, loving him infinitely more today than she did the day before.

"To Pop and mama Vic, my second parents, thank you for loving me as _me_. I was never _Sam's girlfriend_ to you. I was always Mercedes, and you embraced me individually. In my heart, you'll always be home to me….you and my little munchkins." Mercedes winked at a grinning Stevie and Stacie, taking care to include them. "Family isn't blood alone. It's also heart. Knowing that your heart is with me means the world. Thank you for letting me in. Thank you for calling me an Evans, long before I had this engagement ring on my finger. It's an honor to call you mine."

"We love you, Mercy." Mrs. Evans cried in a broken voice, hugging her husband's shoulders. Mr. Evans shed tears alongside his wife, wearing that endearing half-grin that Sam had clearly inherited from him. He blew Mercedes a kiss, laughing when she caught it and pretended to drop it in her shirt for safe keeping.

After taking a breath, Mercedes met Sam's eyes in the crowd. "And Sam…." She began, already overwhelmed by her feelings for him. "If my virtue is love, it's only because I've had the privilege of learning it from you. You aren't anything I expected, but you are absolutely everything I've needed, for the longest time. After I was assaulted, you let me cry and scream and hit you, let me hate you and vent my feelings for hours about my attack, and held me through all of it. The only other people who have ever loved me like that are my family. The moment you showed me who you really were, I knew that you were supposed to be a part of my family, too. I care about you more than anything else in this life. Don't you dare think that's gonna change anytime soon."

Sam held his engagement ring to his heart with a smile, intently listening.

"I know you always call me your superhero, but I'm not. I'm just my strongest self when I'm with you. Thank you for being man enough to handle my power." Mercedes mirrored his pose, placing her left hand over her heart. "I can't wait until the entire world knows I'm yours."

"Go get that grammy, Evans!" He yelled from the crowd. Mr. and Mrs. Jones shared a surprised look, but smirked and said nothing of their daughter's new nickname. Mr. and Mrs. Evans shared an inconspicuous fist bump.

Mercedes lifted her award, holding it up to the light. "To my girls, thank you so much for naming me your valedictorian. I wish nothing but happiness and wellness for all of my sisters as we move forward. Bless all of you for coming to celebrate this day with us. God be with you all."

**O-O**

The teen lovers spent a blissful summer together, filled with quaint picnics by the lake under the shade of oak trees and long nights in their tree house observing the stars. The last few weeks of June were lazy and unplanned, occupied with friends and casual parties that typically ended with spiked punch and tons of laughter.

In July, Mr. and Mrs. Evans brought the twins back to Ohio as a birthday surprise. Both families spent the entire weekend doting on the new eight year olds to their hearts' content. Since it was still a struggle financially for the Evans' to buy Stevie and Stacie more than one present each, the Jones' took them on an all-you-can-grab shopping spree at Lima's premier toy shop, typically reserved for the local rich elite or well-off tourists in search of pricey mementos. Being the modest children that they were, accustom to poverty, Stacie and Stevie only picked out one of their favorite items in the store. Stevie's full latex Bat Suit and customized utility belt didn't't come off until his mother peeled it away from his sleeping body. Stacie sat for hours on end watching her music box, enamored by the pink and gold carousel that rose from the middle after she turned the key. Mr. Evans' face brightened every time he watched her. The way her eyes lit up and watered during the tinkling chimes of 'Scarborough Fair' made every overnight shift for meager pay worth it.

Sam gifted the twins with a pair of self-portraits, his very first attempt at drawing people. Though some features needed a bit of sharpening and depth, Stevie and Stacie ran around the house and proudly flaunted their gifts, ignorant of any flaws. In their eyes, Sam was already a master artist. Their big brother appreciated the boost to his ego.

By August, the glee kids were packing their things and planning their trips to their respective destinations, either to a campus or an apartment located in a new city. Sam, Joe, and Artie were the only ones left behind out of the group. Rory had already flown back to Ireland when Junior year ended, planning to join the male a cappella group he'd left behind and attend college there. Joe and Artie were fortunate enough to have girlfriends that were juniors as well. Sam, forced to stay behind another semester, wasn't as lucky.

To ease the loss, he surprised Mercedes one evening with a detailed map to the star named after them. She eagerly searched for it with their tree house telescope, finding it rather quickly with Sam's help and the clarity of the night sky. For Sam, the star meant permanence, even as their worlds were evolving and veering off into different directions. Mercedes understood without an explanation, smiling as she asked him for a copy to take with her to UCLA. She wanted as much access to 'Samcedes' as possible while they were apart.

Like all good things, their summer of bliss came to its end, and the orange and white U-haul truck parked in her driveway marked its close.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us and help me move in?" Mercedes asked Sam for the hundredth time that day, even though she knew what his answer would be.

"Mercy, I don't think I can handle it," he answered, visibly pained by the thought. He swallowed hard and held her close, resting his chin atop her head as he watched the clouds drift above them. One small tuft resembled a heart. It made him smile, just for a moment.

"But I need you there, Sam," she whined, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her face nestled in the hollow of his neck, shielding her nose from the wind. It was only a whisper of a breeze, warm and gentle, holding only an inkling of the chill to come with the transitioning seasons.

The change welcomed and frightened her, so she hid against her Sam, her solace.

"No, you don't need me there, babe. Not yet at least," he told her, trying and failing yet again to swallow away the tightness in his throat. "It's going to be harder to come back here if I leave with you, knowing that you're not riding back with me. It feels too much…like Kentucky."

Mercedes saddened at the memory of waving goodbye as he drove away with his family. "But, this time it's different, right? I mean, it's not forever….it'll only be a couple of months now."

"Yeah, only that." Sam smiled half-heartedly, nuzzling her hair. He inhaled her, and noted with horror that he was trying to remember what she smelled like. Today, it was cocoa butter and a hint of his cologne. Why was this so painful?

"So, why are we acting so sad?" Mercedes asked, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Why is this so hard?"

"Because we're engaged and finally together, but you have to move hundreds of miles away," Sam said sadly, lips twitching in a faint smirk. "Fate sucks sometimes."

Mercedes chuckled, more for his sake than her own. "Yeah, it does," she mused, sliding her fingers up and down the underside of his shirt collar. It was soft cotton and blue, criss-crossed with checkered patterns. He smelled like fabric softener and a bit of her perfume. Mercedes silently hoped that he would always smell a bit like her, even months after they'd been apart. "But, we're luckier than most people. I mean, we're _engaged._ I'm gonna marry you someday. Us being apart….it's temporary."

Hearing her say that warmed his heart. Sam managed a genuine smile. "You're right. We'll have Skype chats and talk about wedding stuff, like cake tastings and china patterns."

"China patterns?" she giggled, snorting softly. "So random."

"Yeah, that's what all the engaged couples talk about on those wedding planner shows, isn't it? That and when to sign the pre-nup, right?" he asked her in jest, delighted by the sound of her laughter.

"Clearly, you don't watch wedding shows." She quipped, nudging his chin with her nose. The alarm on her phone went off seconds later, reminding her of her deadline.

"That's my alarm. We have to leave now if we want to get to the airport on time. Daddy's going to drive my clothes and stuff down with Uncle Julius. From the way I've seen them handle a car, I'm pretty sure they'll make it to L.A. before me and mama." She chuckled.

A solemn silence loomed afterward, and neither of the two could find the strength to release their hold of each other.

"By driving down, they…um…they save money on checking in all of my luggage. I have three duffel bags filled with my shoes alone. You know me, I love my shoes. My parents' said that they're gonna check me into one of those thirty day treatment facilities for being a shoe-aholic. Is that even a thing? Can you be addicted to shoes, because I don't really think you can, considering—"

"—Babe, I know what you're doing. We can't stall this any longer." Sam interrupted, rubbing her back. "Your flight leaves in an hour and you're not even on your way yet," Sure enough, Mercedes' uncle beeped the truck horn shortly after, loudly reminding his niece of her flight time through the window.

"Well, I guess that's my call, then," she declared, voice breaking ever so slightly.

"Yep, I guess so," he agreed, sounding hoarser than she did. "Promise you won't find some other sexy blonde stud on campus and break up with me over text?"

She laughed, despite the hollow ache in her chest. "Never gonna happen. I'm saving all my love for you," she promised, pinching both his cheeks. Mercedes pretended not to notice the way he leaned into her touch as her hands moved away.

"All of it?" he asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "Even the love between those thighs?"

"_Especially _that one," she whispered, gently raking her nails down his chest. "I'll make sure it stays nice and untouched, until those soft, curly hairs you like start sprouting back. Then, when you come to L.A….."

"Yeah?" Sam felt his blood rush through him when she leaned close, breathing against his lips.

"You can shave it clean for me….mark your territory again." Mercedes wickedly smiled, wiggling her pert nose against his.

"Oh, I like the sound of that." He growled lowly, rubbing his lips across hers. "Keep it nice and messy, too. Let all of it just tangle together. Then, when I get you nice and wet….make you come over and over, and that shit gets all lubricated and unravels…"

"God Sam, don't. Not here." She panted, kissing him softly. "Then I'm really going to be late for my flight." She kissed him again with a small whimper, needier the second time. "You don't know what you do to me, I swear."

"I've gotta hurry up and get this high school shit straight. I can't be away from you for half a year." Sam told her, trying his hardest to resist kissing her again. "Six whole months, Cedes. That's torture."

"It's just for now," she assured him. Their eyes fell away, looking down to break their intense stare. "Work your ass off, Sam Evans." Whispered Mercedes, "Hurry up and come back to me."

Heaven knows she fought the tears, feeling silly for even getting so emotional in the first place, but when Sam hugged her body close to his and kissed her forehead, it broke her resolve.

"I'm really gonna miss you." She sobbed into his chest, clutching his shoulders. "God, I can't help it. I didn't think it was going to hurt this much, Sam."

Sam rocked her from side to side and gently hushed her cries, shushing softly in her ear. "It's alright. This hurts me, too," he told her, shedding a tear as he tried to comfort her. "I'm gonna call you and come visit you….we'll text every night….hell, I'll send letters, okay?"

Mercedes nodded, sniffling against the bare skin peeking through his collar. "Okay," she answered in a small voice, holding fast to his vows until they eased the ache in her chest. The truck horn blared again, and the couple reluctantly pulled apart.

"You're not going to kiss me goodbye? Properly, I mean?" Mercedes asked him as he stepped away, nearly begging.

Sam cupped her face, taking a moment to brush his thumbs across her cheeks and feel her softness. "I can't do that, princess."

"Why not?" she asked sadly, cupping her hands over his.

"Because if I kiss you, then it really will mean goodbye, and goodbyes don't promise that we'll see each other again. If that's true, then I wouldn't be able to let you go to L.A." His chin began to tremble, and a few more stray tears escaped and dribbled down his ruddy cheeks. "And you need to be in L.A. right now. I need to be here, getting myself together."

Mercedes nodded. "I understand." She really did, but it didn't make her miss his goodbye kiss any less. Sam pressed his lips to her forehead instead, longer and harder than he ever had in the past. Mercedes clung to the pressure of his kiss, welcoming the pain, the possible bruising. She wanted him to leave his mark on her before her future took her away. She never wanted to be able to forget again, to rid herself of the memories of his caresses. His lips loudly smacked as they parted.

"Mercy…" He didn't know what he would say after her name, but he knew they couldn't leave each other without parting words.

"Yes?" Mercedes replied, eyes glued to his lips, as if his last sentence held the power to liberate her.

All the things he wanted to tell her required too much time, precious hours and minutes that they no longer had control over. Out of the millions of words zooming through his brain, Sam settled for the seven that summed up everything he wanted to say. "Please don't let go. I love you."

"I won't, Sam. I promise," she replied, just like Sam hoped she would. "I love you, too. I always will."

With a gentle squeeze of fingers, his hands slid out of her grasp. Mercedes hopped in her car and fastened her seatbelt without a second glance back. Sam watched the car start up and make its way down the road, and the moment seemed to transpire in slow motion against the backdrop of the pink and purple sky. It felt scripted. None of it felt real, even as the smell of exhaust drifted past his nose and the warmth from her body faded from his.

"Look back, Mercy." He pleaded in an earnest whisper. He needed to see her face, to feel the rush of blood through his veins that only her smile could bring. "Please look back, baby. Just once."

Her car stopped suddenly in the middle of the road. Right on cue, his love poked her head out the window to smile and wave at him.

Sam smiled and waved back, sighing as he blew her a kiss and urged her back on to destiny. Right then, it hit him, and Mercedes leaving Ohio became as real as the salty tang of tears dribbling across his lips. It was sulfur bitter and saccharine sweet and all the things mixed in between. It was love. Mercedes going away to UCLA was just a painful truth of their journey. And what was a great love story without a journey?

"I'll see you soon, Luz," he promised aloud, calling her by her character name in his graphic novel, just as her car turned the corner and disappeared with the setting sun.

**O-O**

**A/N: To avoid a slew of angsty PMs and reviews about my previous note at the end of this chapter, I've decided to replace it with a happier one. Samcedes is gonna stay together in this story. Samcedes is endgame. Any bumps in the road will only be...well...bumps! I would never break them up for the sake of drama! Guys, you should know me better than that. ;-)**

**In addition, the next few chapters will be on the lighter, happier side. We'll get to explore their relationship as they live on campus, which is exciting and thrilling to me as a writer. I have several scenes already in the works! Prepare yourself for the fluff. After all the angst of this segment, you and I both deserve something sweet and light, right? The drama will come, but it will be much later, and no where near as heavy as this segment has been. **

**I hope that allays your fears! Now that we've gotten that out of the way, be sure to tell me what you thought of this chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts! **


	34. Chapter 32 To Have & to Hold

**~O~ ****Volume Three: **_**I do know you, love **_**~O~**

**Together, Sam and Mercedes are survivors. They wear the title as a badge of honor. They've endured sexual assault, guilt, break-ups, break downs, venomous words and constant changes and reevaluations of their relationship. Will all of their work toward a healthy and lasting union withstand the pressures of college? Or, will growing up ultimately mean growing apart?**

** ~O~ ~O~**

_**A/N: A quick, fluffy chapter, just like I promised! Thanks are due once again to my friend and beta Jill for her awesome work. Any errors are mine and mine alone. Also, notice the trend in titles for this chapter and future chapters within this volume. If you find the pattern, you'll have an idea of the content of each chapter. **_

**_Enjoy_!**

**O-O**

_I could__'__ve shown you…better nights, better times, better days….and I miss you more and more…._

The melody of Sam's voice filtered through the small apartment as Mercedes completed her holiday cleaning, elevating her mood. She had mopped, scrubbed, and polished every surface of her place to three of his pre-recorded CDs, occasionally harmonizing along when the song was familiar to her. The soothing sound of his music was a welcome distraction, and though it helped her complete the cringe-worthy task of cleaning even faster than usual, hearing him sing to her only intensified the pang in her heart.

Weary from her thoughts and her chores, She flopped on the couch and reclined her feet on the armrest, shutting her eyes for a quick moment of rest. Maxwell's _Pretty Wings_ wasn't exactly the best song to listen to if she was trying to forget about missing Sam, but she didn't have the energy to get up and change tracks. Besides, whatever she played would remind her. All she'd been listening to for months was Sam's singing. Surprisingly, her iPod, normally attached to her hip, had fallen to the wayside in exchange for the CD player that hadn't seen daylight since the Millennium.

Lord, she was sprung over this man….

"Sing me to sleep, babe," she whispered to the raspy tenor recording, near the end of his song. "Just five minutes of rest and I'll tackle the bathroom."

Her front door slammed against the side wall as it flew open, jolting her from her drift off to sleep.

"Rayshawn, where was you?!...What the hell do you mean you had to work _late?!_ Target closes at eleven!..._Inventory?_ Well I'll tell you what, you're about to be out of stock on a boyfriend if you don't stop lying to me!"

"No, I insist. Please come in, Unique. Talk as loud as you want." Mercedes rubbed her weary eyes and sat up, noting that her friend was twirling her spare copy of keys around his manicured finger.

Unique smiled and waved at her with an arm full of take-out bags, pointing to the phone and mouthing the words 'boyfriend' as an excuse before he rolled his eyes. " You cancelling on this week, too?! Rayshawn, we had Christmas dinner plans since September! I don't wanna hear this 'I have to work late' or 'my job needs me because I'm the manager' mess! You should demand time off! I'm starting to think that you're stepping out on me. Are you? And you better not hesitate on that answer." Unique side eyed his phone's screen, mouthing the word 'trifling' to himself. Mercedes laughed, in spite of his unwelcome intrusion. At least he had the courtesy to bring her food. From expensive ass Panera Bread, even. For college kids, buying food for a friend held a reverence somewhere between a blood covenant and sacrificing your firstborn.

Mercedes took the bag Unique offered to her with a grateful smile, already drooling from the aroma of warm bread and fresh guacamole.

"Oh no, this fool is NOT!" exclaimed Unique, throwing his curly wig off kilter as he dramatically turned to his friend. He pointed to the phone as he stared at Mercedes, face steeped in disbelief. "Mercedes, please tell me this fool isn't trying to bottle feed me tomfoolery and utter nonsense when he knows I've graduated from the Similac. PLEASE tell me that he isn't lying over this phone like I can't smell the fresh dick on him from the speaker. Did I ask this fool for apple juice and he's tryna hand me apple drink like I won't know the difference? Rayshawn, I can taste the red 40 AND yellow 6 dye on your lies, boo boo! Your tongue is stained with deceit and your breath smells like round-the-way ass and artificial flavors. Boy, BYE! To the left!" Unique jabbed the end call button with his acrylic finger and threw the offensive phone on the couch. "His ass had the nerve to stand me up, then call me up asking to borrow money for a fresh perm on his big head...using a toothbrush on his Nigerian naps, brushing edges he don't even have to make baby hair. Nigga, if you have to squint to see it, IT'S NOT THERE! Those are called bald spots! Put the Ampro gel down and end the struggle! Chilli and Ginuwine are cowering somewhere, clutching their hairlines in fear and protest and they don't even understand why! Who is he trying to impress?"

Mercedes merely chuckled, used to her friend's antics after nearly three months of daily interaction. She met Unique on the first day of her Vocal technique class, after they'd heard each other sing their introductory pieces. Mercedes complemented him on the mastery of his rendition of Aretha's "Do Right Woman, Do Right Man", Unique offered to buy her lunch and do her weaves at a discounted price, and the rest was friendship history. He'd been making doorknob sized dents in her wall ever since.

According to one of their more recent girl talk sessions, her new friend and his boyfriend have been on-and-off for three years. And judging from the tone of the conversation she'd heard, Mercedes assumed that she had just witnessed the beginnings of another 'off' period. "So, is this it? Are you guys done?"

"Hell no! He's my boo!" Unique exclaimed, clutching his fake pearls at the scandalous suggestion. "Besides, I know he was telling the truth. All of that extra was just to keep him in check. You don't think I've already gone through the receipts in his wallet and read the call history on his phone? The only people that boy talks to are me and his momma, and he's too cheap to buy dinner for anyone else but himself." Unique sighed with fond affection. "My little triflin' Ray-Ray. Can't even afford the ground that my red bottoms walk on, bless his heart."

Before Mercedes could comment, Unique's phone vibrated yet again, muffled by one of her decorative throw pillows. He snatched it up and answered without reading the caller ID, already aware of who was on the other end.

"Ray-Ray..." he cooed, twirling an imaginary phone cord around her finger. Mercedes rolled her eyes at the saccharine tone. "Why you gotta do me like that, hmm? You know how I jealous I get when you're not with me. Remember what we talked about three weeks ago? Cut the overtime and no new friends!"

Mercedes followed the swaying hips clothed in magenta satin as he retreated to her room. She could hear his thoroughly whipped boyfriend pleading and crying on the other end for forgiveness.

"Sad..." she laughed to herself, shaking her head at the drama of it all. "Thank god Sam and I aren't like that. We're way more mature than all that mess."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket soon after, alerting her to a new text in her inbox. She smiled, realizing the time, and opened her fiancé's daily lunch break message.

**_Hey babe, guess what Puck and I figured out?_**

**_What?_** She quickly typed, imagining the eager lit in his voice as she read his words.

Her phone buzzed again in reply, almost instantly. **_Did you know that if you turn one of those Valentine's day hearts upside down, it looks like a really, really thick booty?_**

Mercedes snorted at his childishness. _So much for having a more mature boyfriend..._

**_And you message this to me because...? LOL_**

**_Because, naturally, thinking of a perfect ass reminded me of my thick__'__ums living all the way in LA and I had to let her know how much I miss her..._**

She couldn't lie. The sentiment, despite how ridiculously it came, did touch her.

A moment later, her phone buzzed again with another message.

**_I really do miss you, Princess. :-) Do u miss me too?_**

The longing she'd read between the lines made her heart swell. The end of November would mark her third month living on campus, but being away from Sam made it feel like an eternity. Not being able to go back home for Thanksgiving because of her work load only fed the aching need.

**_More than you know, Sam, _**she replied, fondly running her finger across his words on the screen. Another message popped up beneath her smudged fingerprint.

**_I think I know, sweetheart. We__'__re gonna see each other for Christmas, I swear it. This isn__'__t forever. _**

Mercedes nibbled her lip in thought, then typed back. **_Why does it feel that way, then? Why aren__'__t Skype calls and phone calls and text messages enough anymore?_**

It wasn't fair to barrage him with all of her intense emotions, but Mercedes felt she had little choice in the matter. She wanted her other half back and wasn't above letting him know it every chance she could. Being away from him for so long felt unnatural, and part of her grew terrified at the thought of being so attached to him.

Part of her never wanted that to change.

It took a minute for Sam to reply. **_Because I can__'__t hold you. I can__'__t kiss you. I want to feel you, sweetheart. I want you to touch me. I miss your hands._**

Her eyelids fell shut as she pressed a gentle kiss to the screen. Quickly, she pulled up the calendar on her phone and counted the days until Christmas break. **_28 more days until I can touch you again, my love. Hold on. We__'__ll be in each other__'__s arms again soon. We__'__ll be home._**

Sam texted her back, echoing her sentiments. **_28 days, and we__'__ll be home..._**

**O-O**

The twenty-eight day had finally come, and the sun seemed to shine a bit brighter through Mercedes' bedroom window. Technically, it was the twenty-eight day, twelfth hour, and fifty-second minute according to her third time check within the hour, but she didn't want to seem _anal _about it.

Sam was supposed to call her to pick him up when his plane arrived. So far, ten different horrific scenarios of why he hadn't contacted her yet zoomed through her brain. The volume on her phone was already on its highest setting. Her Bluetooth was fully charged and planted in her ear. She changed her text alert sound to the most obnoxious one she could find, just so she wouldn't miss a message on the off chance Sam couldn't call her.

Her fiancé should have been in her arms by now!

To avoid her own overwhelming thoughts, Mercedes decided to get a head start on her research paper for theatre history. She was on her fifth read of a section describing the brilliance of Moliere's work when her blessed phone finally rang. Sam's picture appeared on her screen as the caller, and she answered shortly after the first ring, doing little to hide her eagerness.

"Baby, where are you? What happened? Was your flight delayed? Why aren't you here yet?" Mercedes worriedly demanded, though the joy in her voice lightened the weight of each question. Sam's answering sigh wiped it from her face almost immediately. "God, I hate the sound of that sigh, Sam."

"It's not a good sigh, babe," Sam despondently replied. "I have some good news, some great news, some bad news, and the worst news ever."

"Start with the bad. I think I might be able to handle that," Mercedes told him, hugging her pillow in preparation to hear the potentially heart wrenching news.

"My flight got cancelled two hours before take-off. I'm sorry, Mercy. There's no need to meet me at the airport."

It was Mercedes' turn to sigh. "Can't you get on another flight for tomorrow?"

"The next flight with an available seat won't be until next weekend, after Christmas is over. I'm sorry, baby." His heart lurched when he heard his love sniffle. "Mercy, please don't cry."

"Maybe I can come see you? I can put off work and studio time for a while, maybe drive down?" she suggested in desperation, wiping her damp cheeks. All of the work she'd been doing had taken its toll, both mentally and emotionally. It was the first time in her life that Mercedes couldn't be with family for the holidays. They had gone to her Grandma Nettie's house for Christmas in New York, as they had every year. Sam was the one familial connection she had left, her reprieve from the madness. He'd forgone celebrating with his family in Kentucky just to make sure that she wouldn't be alone for the holidays. Fate seemed to be working against every avenue of holiday cheer. "Sam, I really need to see you." The tears flowed freer than she was comfortable with. Mercedes was exhausted, stressed, and overwhelmingly lonely, and now she couldn't see the one face that had kept her grounded for the past semester in person.

Sam shifted uncomfortably on his end. Hearing Mercedes cry hurt worse than hearing Stevie or Stacie cry, and their cries always destroyed him. "You want the good news now? It might make you feel better."

Mercedes dabbed her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt and considered the offer. Looking down, she realized that it was the same one Sam had snuck into her luggage before she left for campus. She brought the collar to her nose and inhaled deeply, smiling when she caught the faint scent of his cologne hidden deep within the fabric. She would take all of the bad before she could accept the good. "No, tell me the worst news. It can only go up after that, right?"

"Right." He chuckled. "Well, I spoke with my advisor about my grades and the transfer to UCLA in the spring. I won't be there in January." The line remained silent for a long time, too long for Sam's comfort. "Mercedes?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she softly replied, hugging her knees to her chest. His words had knocked the wind out of her, but she knew that anything but assurance would make him feel guilty. As much as she wanted Sam at UCLA with her, Mercedes knew that his insecurities about his grades and self-worth meant more. She took time to reflect, choosing her words carefully. "Sam, all that matters is that you tried your best. We have a lifetime of Christmases to spend together. Sure, I'm disappointed, but the cancelled flight isn't your fault. And school will be school wherever you are. It's four years. Wherever you go, we'll make it work. We'll see each other." After a moment, she added, "Are you graduating, though?"

"Yeah. Most improved in my class. My GPA isn't much to look at, but I'm pretty proud of it."

Mercedes nodded, conceding to the idea of spending Christmas without the voice on the other end. "Well then, I'm proud of it. I'll be there in June, cheering you on."

"No need, Mercy. I won't be walking," he replied, breathing a bit harder than he was before. Mercedes frowned, confused by his answer.

"Why, Sam? You should! Everyone wants to celebrate with you. Just because your grades aren't what you want them to be doesn't mean that..." She paused, noting his shallow breathing and the whipping of wind on his end of the phone. "Sam, why are you panting? And are you outside?"

"Yeah, I left the airport after the flight cancellation. Carrying all this luggage is killer!"

"Sam, do you mean to tell me that you _walked _back home? Are you insane?" Mercedes shrieked, incensed by the thought of him walking around with luggage in the snow. "How the hell are you _walking _from Columbus? Why didn't you call Burt or Finn or someone to pick you up?"

"I never said I walked from Columbus to go home. Do you really think I would be that stupid?" Sam laughed, a bit taken aback by her assumptions of him.

Her tone softened. "So where are you going? And why do you have to carry your luggage?"

"I just left a cab," Sam deadpanned, chuckling. "The buildings here are beautiful!"

"Sam, where the hell are you? Buildings haven't changed in Lima since before we were born."

"Who said I was in Lima? Jeez, you and your conclusions, woman," scoffed Sam. "You didn't even ask me what my good news was! I thought you'd want to hear it after all that bad news."

"Well, since I probably won't be seeing you until spring break, my thoughts are a bit clouded." Mercedes laughed. "Okay, what's the good news? And it better be actual good news, not just the random funny crap you text me every day."

"Hey, that stuff is gold! Tell me that you knew you couldn't lick your elbow before I texted it to you," Sam demanded, amused.

She did, but didn't want to burst his bubble. Besides, Mercedes loved being his first thought, even if the texts were usually absurd. "Groundbreaking, Sammy," she sarcastically replied, rolling her eyes.

"Look, do you want my good news or what? I'm almost where I'm supposed to be. Wait, hold on." She heard Sam move away from the phone for a moment, followed by the sounds of muffled voices. Before Mercedes could decipher what the voices were discussing, Sam had returned. "Sorry. Just asked a guy for some directions. So, good news?"

Mercedes sighed, twirling one of her stray curls around her finger. Her eyes briefly drifted to the sunshine outside her window. " Okay, I give up. What good news does my man have for me?"

Sam smiled at the title. "Your man, huh? I like that. I hope you told those UCLA guys on campus that your man will beat their asses if they forget their place."

"Naturally." Mercedes smiled. "Do I get my good news now as a reward for being so loyal?"

"Yep! My good news is...I finally figured out what Serendipity means."

"Seriously, Sam?" she laughed incredulously. "A quick google search could have cleared that up for you, babe."

"Well, thanks to you, I got one of those word of the day calendars to boost my vocabulary. Serendipity happens to be the word of the day. It's good news because you inspired it." His voice softened in affection. "I wanted to share it with you."

Mercedes nibbled the corner of her lip, smiling at the ways Sam unknowingly made her feel special. "I'm honored. Please tell me what Serendipity means."

"It's like a happy accident, right? A fortunate mistake."

Mercedes could practically feel his pride through the phone. "Very good, babe. Can you give me an example?"

"Like those jacked up cheeseburgers you and your dad made up because you bought the wrong kind of cheese when you were little? Or like yesterday, when I put an extra dollar in the vending machine because the first can I purchased got stuck and it gave me four cans instead of two? Or the time I accidentally spilled my slurpee on you and it made your shirt see-through?" Sam grinned.

"I wouldn't really count the last one. It wasn't serendipitous on my part." Mercedes laughed, rubbing her chest from the memory. "It was freezing and my bra was white."

"And the slurpee was cold! See what I'm saying? See through bra, cold slurpee, instant nipples...serendipity!"

Mercedes muffled her snorting giggles with her pillow. "Is sex all you think about?"

"All I think about is you, Mercy. There's a difference," he replied seriously. "By the way, I'm home."

"Oh, that's where you are? If you took a cab all the way to Kentucky, then you're even more blonde than I thought," teased Mercedes. "Tell Mom and Pop I said Merry Christmas."

"I'll have to tell them when I get back. I didn't say I was with them." Sam smirked when the line grew silent again. He could hear the wheels turning in her head.

"Sam..." Mercedes gasped, fighting the happy tears that threatened to fall until she was certain. "Where are you?"

"I told you, Mercedes. I'm home," he answered softly. "You should probably look outside your window now. Apparently, I'm not as blonde as I look."

Mercedes sprung from her bed and hurried to the window, finally letting her tears fall when she saw his smiling face, surrounded by luggage. "Sam?" she questioned in awe, circling his tiny face in the window.

"I swear I'm real, Mercy." Sam smiled and waved, relieved to see her face. "And boy, I'm glad to see you."

"I don't understand...How? When?" Mercedes asked, unsure if she should laugh or sob.

"I told you. Serendipity," Sam replied. "When the first flight got cancelled, I fought with the airline until they stuck me on another flight with a layover. We stopped in Phoenix, and fifteen minutes after we landed, I heard that the flight I was supposed to be on had left the terminal shortly after mine. I was pissed at first, but funny thing was, that plane had engine trouble. It had to land somewhere in Texas. As far as I know, it's still there. One cab ride from the airport later, and I'm here. If my flight wasn't cancelled in the first place, I probably wouldn't be. What would you call that?"

"I call it God smiling down on me." Mercedes laughed, hiccuping a sob shortly after. She eyed his attire and shook her head at its inappropriateness. "Are you warm enough?" she joked, gesturing to his thick jacket and gloves.

Sam glanced up at the sun and shrugged. "I'd be warmer wrapped in you." They both hung up the phone at the same time, sharing a special glint in their eyes as they stared for a moment longer. Sam dropped his bags on the lawn and raised his arms, beckoning her to him. Mercedes didn't even bother to change out of her pajamas. She slipped on her bunny slippers, threw on a fitted cap over her unruly hair, and sprinted through the door. Questioning glances from the few students left on campus followed her as she ran, but Mercedes didn't have time to process them. Sam was waiting for her. Sam was here.

The entrance doors seemed to open on their own, but Mercedes knew that her hands had to have moved in some instance to pull the handles. Sam stood less than ten feet away, arms still outstretched for her, and quietly mouthed her name. She ran to him as he said her name aloud.

"Merc—oomph!" Sam's shoulders and hips were wrapped in limbs before he could finish, and the force of impact pushed them both to the ground. He reached up to cup her smiling face, tucking her hair behind her ears until her lips were clear and in full view. She leaned down as he pushed his head up, meeting in the middle with sweetest of kisses. Six months without each other's affection amplified their need, and lips quickly parted to introduce nibbling teeth and probing tongues. Sam groaned when Mercedes ground herself against his raised thigh and quickly snuck his hands under her sweatshirt, gliding his fingers across the smooth dip in her back. She moaned into their kiss and ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging him with whispers of _yes _and _more _in the brief moments they parted for air. Footsteps clacking across the cobblestone walkway reminded the couple that they weren't alone, and with a few soft pecks, Mercedes moved from Sam's lap to lie beside him. Their chests heaved as they panted for air.

"So..." Sam began, licking his swollen lips, "You missed me?"

Mercedes glanced at him and laughed at his silly grin. "So, was this your real good news?"

Sam bit his lip, caught in his lie. "Yeah, this was my real good news." He admitted, shrugging.

"Then yeah, I missed you." She answered, reaching out to cup his cheek. Her thumb ran down the bridge of his nose, stroking the soft skin there. "I missed you a whole lot."

Sam kissed her palm, then held her wrist steady as he kissed the tips of her fingers. "Obviously. You ran out here in a Santa onesie and bunny slippers."

Mercedes noted her attire for the first time, then her surroundings, before groaning at the fashion faux paus."You owe me sex for this. I mean, really, really good sex. Put me in a coma sex. Can't remember my name for a week sex. My bunny slippers have never seen the light of day before this."

"When I'm around, your onesie won't see the light of day again, either. I might take you up on that sex debt," Sam offered, grinning wolfishly. He stood and reached a hand to pull her up. "Let me get my bags together and you can show me where your room is."

"How do you know that I have room for you? There's only one bed. I might not want to share." Mercedes sassed, watching him gather his bags.

"That's what I'm banking on. You think I came all this way to sleep on a bed? Beds I got. Ohio doesn't have you, princess." Sam explained, looping the straps of his largest bag over the handle of his carry-on.

Mercedes smiled and grabbed two of his duffel bags, slinging them over her shoulders. Their weight made her falter on her first step. "This is an awful lot of luggage for a week's visit, Sammy. Did my packing habits rub off on you?"

"You know, you didn't ask me what my best news was. I'm kind of offended. I thought you cared. I thought we had something special." pouted Sam, relieving his short fiancée of one of pieces of luggage as they walked toward the entrance door.

"Changing the subject to hide your newly acquired hoarding habits, I see. Clever." Mercedes smirked, swiping her student card to let them into the building. With a bit of effort, Sam and Mercedes loaded all of the luggage on the elevator before the doors started to close. Mercedes reached for the button that led to her floor, but Sam jabbed the number four before she could reach for it.

"You mentioned what floor you lived on once, over Skype," Sam said bashfully, a bit ashamed to admit that he'd paid so close attention.

Mercedes kissed his scruffy cheek and rubbed her lips across his chin. "Once being the operative word, but I get it. I missed you, too. See?" She tugged at her sweatshirt. "Putting it in my purse was smart. I think I've worn it for every study session and test I've had so far. Sadly, I haven't washed it yet."

"Missed the way I smell?" asked Sam, pulling the hood aside to kiss her neck. Mercedes turned her face and nodded, stealing a quick kiss from his lips before he pulled away.

"The way you taste, too." Sam tilted her chin and kissed her again, sucking her bottom lip just as the elevator doors opened. She took back the second duffel bag Sam had taken away from her and stepped out.

"My dorm's this way. It's a _private _room." With a sexy wink, Mercedes sauntered away.

"Yes! College sex fort!" Sam packed his arms full of the remaining bags in one sweep, running behind her. "Get the razor and shaving cream ready, babe. I'm marking my territory today!"

**O-O**

Mercedes woke up hours later on the carpeted floor of her living room, legs tangled in him and the sheets that covered their nakedness. The pillows surrounding them confused her at first, but when the memories of their fort building came back to memory, her confusion gave way to giggles of incredulity. She hadn't made a pillow fort in months, not since a mid-August evening in their treehouse back in Ohio. Sam's childlike view of the world made all of her problems seem insignificant. What were tests and stress in the grand scheme of things without time to enjoy life, without enjoying the people that make all of your work worth it?

Carefully, she snuck her foot out from underneath his ankle and eased her knee from between him until she could shift to lie on his side. Sam missed the warmth of her body immediately and felt for her in his sleep. Mercedes took his searching hands, kissed them, and pulled them around her waist, scooting closer until she was nestled in his arms. Her nose nudged his chin until it lifted and gave her room, and her forehead quickly moved into the space to rest. Settled, Mercedes lazily stroked his forearm until his breathing evened and turned into soft snores.

The lights from the Christmas tree beside them danced across his skin and hair, decorating his fairness in a blinking spectrum of color. The pink shade of his lips, parted and soft, reminded her of the rosy cheeks that illustrators would give to Santa Claus in Christmas stories. Even covered in drool, they were enticing and utterly kissable.

Sam puckered just then, almost as if he could read her thoughts, and Mercedes dabbed them with a corner of her sheet. The touch curled his lips, and the sight of his smile warmed her heart. His unruly hair and curled lashes made him look younger, near infantile, and her thoughts led yet again to visions of their future children.

_Eighteen year olds shouldn__'__t be thinking about children_, her rational brain reasoned. But in her heart, Mercedes had already picked out names and assigned them personalities. Did Sam think about these things? Did he watch her in her sleep and wonder, too?

"If you're done admiring my body, I'm gonna wake up now." One playful green eye popped into view, crinkled at its corner as he smiled.

"I can admire your body when you're awake, too. No need to fake sleep," Mercedes replied, kissing his nose. He kissed her nose as well, pulling her body toward his.

"Why aren't you on top of me again? I distinctly remember you being my blanket before we went to bed." Sam murmured against her forehead, brushing her bangs aside to kiss above her brow. "How I fall asleep is how I want to wake up."

"Ugh, so demanding," she replied in feigned annoyance, climbing back on top of him. Sam gathered her hair and gently twisted it into a bundle, twirling it around his fingers until it formed a giant ringlet across her left shoulder. Mercedes leaned down to kiss him once more, happy that she had the opportunity to do so. The fact that they'd have an entire week of intimate kisses left her positively giddy.

"Better?" she murmured against his lips, smirking at his answering moan.

"Much," he answered, stealing another kiss from her lips before he moved his affections to her bare shoulder. "I really missed this."

"The kissing or the...well, you know." His kisses across her collar bone and up her neck made her shudder.

"Both," replied Sam, nipping her chin. Mercedes craned her neck to nip his chin as well, just as his hands slid under the sheet to caress the sides of her breasts. "They're both satisfying."

Her body shifted against his as his hands continued to explore. They settled on her bare behind, and the light squeeze to the flesh made her bite her lip in that endearing way he loved. Mercedes, being pressed against him, hadn't missed the way his cock twitched against his stomach.

"I think you like the you-know a lot better," she smiled knowingly, rubbing against him until he twitched again. "Your friend says so."

"My friend is a tattle-tale and should not be trusted." Sam smirked, pushing her thighs to move her higher up on his body until his 'friend' rested against her clean-shaven sex. "Besides, he's not the only reason I'm here."

"But you admit that he's part of the reason, right?" Mercedes chuckled, cupping his cheek and kissing down his neck before he could answer. His cock grew firmer and lengthened to its fullest potential. "Don't answer. I think your friend just told on you again."

Sam lifted the sheet and glanced between them. "Damn you! I'm trying to have a conversation with my fiancée, here! Control yourself!"

Mercedes rolled off of him, laughing like mad. "Are you chastising your penis? Oh my god, I can't!" she cried, holding her belly. "You're ridiculous!"

Sam smiled and climbed on top of her, reversing their positions. "Well in all fairness, he's not always the smartest little guy."

"He's certainly not _little_, Sam." Mercedes smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"We eat our vegetables." He shrugged with a grin. Mercedes parted her legs to accommodate his hips, spreading until she could feel his hardness pressed intimately against her. Sam leaned down for a kiss, but a branch from the Christmas tree smacked him across the cheek and startled him.

"The hell?" Sam frantically brushed the feeling away, eyes searching the air above him for the culprit. Mercedes pointed to the tree he hadn't noticed, resisting her urge to poke fun at his reaction. "Oh. Nice tree."

"You didn't see it last night. We were kind of preoccupied….with each other." Sam held the branch aside and kissed her like he intended to, side eyeing the tree as if it interrupted them on purpose.

"It's really big. Is it real?" he asked, then laughed at his own words. "Ha! That's what she said."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and nodded, plucking a needle from the pine.

"Some friends and I picked it out last weekend. They said it would help me get into the holiday spirit," she explained, twirling the needle between her fingers. "I was really missing home."

"Home misses you, Mercy." Sam said gently, catching her gaze. "It's not the same without you."

"It's not the same without you _here,_ Sam." She replied, hating how desperate she sounded. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad about it, but I do really wish that you could be here with me."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Who said I wouldn't be?"

"Uh, you did?" she answered, confused by his reply. "Remember yesterday? You said that..."

"I said that I wouldn't be here in _January._" He interrupted. Her face showed that she still didn't comprehend, so Sam decided to come clean. "You know, you didn't let me finish telling you about what my great news was. You'd think an intro like 'Sam's great news' would make you curious, but _noooo..._"

"Sam, cut the crap and tell me," Mercedes commanded, brow raised in warning. "What's the great news and what does it have to do with you coming to UCLA?"

"It's the reason I'm not walking in June. I've graduated early." Her mouth fell open in shock. "My advisor and I worked really hard to get early admission. She pulled some strings, rode my ass all summer and last semester, and made me write a ton of essays to people that run the school. Apparently, UCLA likes a guy who goes from repeating a semester to graduation in less than a year. Plus, that whole 'hero' coverage in the papers from Donovan's shooting gave me an edge. Heroism is always a seller."

"So, what does this mean? Are you staying?" Mercedes asked softly, nails digging anxiously into his shoulders.

Sam nodded. "Didn't bring all this luggage for nothing! My apartment won't be ready until after break, but I figured you wouldn't mind having a roommate for a week or so." Her watering eyes erased all humor from his eyes. "Mercy?"

"You're gonna be here with me? Starting today?" Mercedes asked in awe.

"Starting yesterday, really," joked Sam, but her pained eyes made him regret withholding the happy news. "I was trying to surprise you, but I guess that was a total fail."

Mercedes grabbed his hair and kissed him hard, teeth colliding with teeth on impact. Sam jerked his head back, surprised by the pain, but Mercedes grabbed his collar and pulled him back in. She eased back just as Sam started to respond, and before Sam could lean in for another kiss, she stunned him with a series of painful slaps to his shoulder.

"Ow, Mercy!" he yelled, gingerly rubbing the now reddened flesh. "What was that for?"

"What the hell did I tell you about surprising me, Sam?! I hate it! I thought I was going to be alone here, without you for four years! Do you know what that did to me? I thought about transferring schools for you and I love it here! Don't do that!" she yelled, slapping his uninjured shoulder once for good measure.

"Okay, I'm sorry! Stop hitting me!" Sam yelled back, grabbing her wrists with one hand before she could hit him again. She wriggled her hands free from his gasp to cover her face, and Sam cursed under his breath when she began to weep. "No really, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, Mercy." He rested his body fully against her and slid his arms underneath her, wrapping them around her waist. "Don't cry. I'm so sorry. I'm here for as long as you want me, okay?"

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and accepted the hug, sighing against his cheek. "I hate being this needy." she chuckled sadly, resting on his shoulder. Sam kissed her temple and squeezed her tighter.

"I know." It took a lot for a woman like Mercedes to say that she needed someone. Outside of family, Sam was pretty sure that he was the first man to ever be entrusted with her heart. The responsibility thrilled and terrified him. "Next time, I'll just tell you right away, okay?"

Mercedes pulled back, meeting his eyes. "Next time?" she frowned. "There better not be a next time, Sam Evans. I don't do this emotional roller coaster crap, understand?"

Sam smiled at her threat. "Yes, Mrs. Evans." He watched her eyes soften and light up at the loving title. She pulled him in for a gentler kiss, then pressed her lips to each of his shoulders in apology.

"I'm really am glad you're here, Sam," she said quietly, stroking the sides of his neck with her thumbs as she gazed at him. "As much as I hate surprises…..I'm glad that you were my surprise. It feels right having you here."

"Four years into forever, Princess," he whispered, brushing his lips across her softer, fuller ones. Her nose wrinkled as she smiled.

"And we start it off with a sex fort underneath the Christmas tree. That sounds about right." The couple shared a bashful smile, glancing at the tree beside them.

"I think Santa got my letter. I asked for you, naked and underneath me. I must've been a good boy this year."

"I guess." Mercedes shrugged, trailing a finger down his chest. "You could be better."

"Better?" Sam eyed their joined bodies, squinting at the implication. "Are you saying that my best doesn't meet your standards, Your Highness?"

"I'm saying that you have to put in work if you want to get the very best in life." She replied in a playful tone. "And I haven't even shown you all I can do. Care to earn it?"

"Hell yes!" Mercedes squealed when he flipped her over, then shrieked when the tree toppled over them, landing on her back. The pillows surrounding them slowed its fall, letting it fall with a pathetic plop on top of them. Sam felt his fiancée tremble with laughter above him.

"We should name this tree Shane. Lord knows it's a better cock blocker than he was," Sam suggested, reaching between the branches to grab the tree's base and toss it to the side.

"Or maybe you should just watch where you roll your body, sir." Mercedes giggled.

"I'll show you a body roll….." Sam flipped them over and pulled the sheet over their heads, laughing as he tickled his squealing girlfriend. Her head peeked over the edge of the sheet for a gasp of air, just before Sam reached for her feet and set her laughter off again.

"Sam, you're evil!" she cried, wiggling and kicking her legs. Her wiggling slowed, and laughter gave way to an aroused moan when Sam replaced his hands with his tongue, making his way up her calf to her inner thighs.

"Sam…." She said with a hiss, stroking his head as she spread her legs. "Fuck, you're evil." Wasting little time, Sam parted her lips until her swollen clit came into view, blowing a breath across the glistening nub until Mercedes whined in need. One well placed lick, and she dug her nails into his scalp. One push of his tongue inside her, and it sounded like Mercedes was speaking another language. Sam grinned, pleased with her responsiveness, and teasingly circled her entrance with the tip of his tongue.

"If I make you come, then I'll _know_ that Santa got my letter," he said in jest. Mercedes didn't have time to reply. She merely panted, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his mouth, and rode Sam's mouth until a blissful orgasm overwhelmed her senses. Sam crawled up Mercedes' heaving body as she came down from her high, kissing her stomach and both of her breasts along the way, before meeting her dampened lips with his sticky ones.

"Did I put in enough work now, Missus? Do I get transferred to the nice list?" Sam asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Mercedes threw an arm over her eyes and nodded with a smile, still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Help me straighten the tree up, then meet me in my bedroom. Someone's getting their Christmas present extra early." She purred, reaching down to stroke his hard-on. "I have some wonderful, awful ideas for you."

Sam shook and fell forward, rolling his hips into her hand. "Fuck…is that right?" growled Sam, biting her earlobe. "Does it come without ribbons? Without tags? Packages, boxes, or bags?"

"I can slap a bow on it if you want." Mercedes giggled, offering a kiss to swallow the groan she knew would come when her thumb teased the head of his cock. "Way up on the fourth floor at UCLA," she began, reciting each word as if she were narrating a book, "Sam's monstrous dick grew three sizes that day…"

**O-O**

"Girl, we just put this in a week ago! What in the world did you do to this hair? It looks like you sweated it out, rolled it around, and tore this weave thread up!"

Mercedes smiled at Unique's description as he snipped the wefts free. "Something like that," she said coyly, nibbling the corner of her lip. She hadn't been as careful with her hair as she usually was. The celebration with her blonde future hubby lasted a few more days than she could've anticipated, and the days and nights seemed to run together from the confines of her bedroom.

Unique stopped his work and peeked over her shoulder to meet her eyes. "Uh oh! Did saint Mercy have a man roll through here? I know that look, honey." Mercedes covered her face to hide her guilt. "Mmhm, just like I thought. Who is he? I hope he can afford to buy a caseload of hair if he plans to mess it up like this every time he's over."

"His name is Sam and it won't happen again," Mercedes replied, rolling her eyes. "We're not usually so careless."

"Sure, and I'm not usually so fabulous," Unique sarcastically sassed, mimicking her eye roll before picking up his scissors. "Are you guys celebrating something?"

Mercedes smiled down at her ring, twirling it around the dangling chain. She'd placed it on a silver necklace for safe keeping—and to avoid the barrage of questions from nosy, judgmental strangers. "Sort of. We're engaged."

Unique stopped mid-snip, spinning her around by her shoulders. "My baby's gonna get married?! When? To who? Where's my invitation?"

"Girl, calm down! It's not for a long, long time. And please watch those scissors near my head," she warned, pointing to the blade's place near her ear. Unique threw them on the empty seat next to him, too curious to be offended by the dig at her professionalism.

"So, where are the pictures? Show me! Girl, I _know _he's fine as hell, because you have my kind of taste."

Mercedes pulled out her phone, eager to show off pictures of her fiancé. "He's my screensaver. See? This was near the lake in my neighborhood during the summer."

Unique took her phone and fanned his neck when he caught sight of a shirtless, damp Sam. "Whoo, chile! He is gorgeous! I didn't know you go vanilla!"

"Whatever." Mercedes snatched the phone back, giving the picture a loving glance. Puck and Burt drove the U-haul over to the new apartment, where Sam would be staying. He and Puck agreed to share a basement apartment twenty minutes away from campus. For Sam, it was cheaper than the cost of room and board. For Puck, it was a safe place to rest his head and invite women over as he figured out his life on the west coast. Sharing the low rent made the entire situation a win-win, and Sam went off to meet them and help unload the furniture Burt had generously donated. Her fingers touched the image of his lips, remembering all the places they'd been on her body early this morning. "He's not vanilla. He's just my guy."

"Well, chocolate would know better than to tear up a black woman's fresh weave!" Unique explained, working through her matted tangles to reach her scalp. "You've gotta break it down to him and explain that this hair cost more than his little modeling salary down at Abercrombie and Fitch." Unique only shrugged when Mercedes slapped his knee, laughing alongside her. "What? Tell me where I'm wrong. He looks like the all American country boy type."

"He is. But contrary to popular belief, he's not simple. The hair rules were set since day one. But he knows that when he's good, there are certain privileges." Their eyes met, and the divas shared a raucous naughty laugh.

"I ain't mad at that! Hell, if he knows what to do in the bedroom, he can pull my mama's weave, too. Shoot, I'll fly his ass to India, even. He can have all the hair he wants to pull!" Unique laughed, snipping away the final wefts of hair sewn to Mercedes's braids. "Alright girl, you're free. Time to wash and re-braid. You have the new packs?"

Mercedes glanced at the Premium Remy in her lap, considering her options. "You know what? Do you think that we can just wash and twist it up? I think that I want to wear my hair out for a while."

"Sure, girl. I got you," assured Unique, undoing her cornrows. "You're one of those girls who don't even need the weave. Your real hair's so long and pretty. Curly, too. Girl, if my kitchen could look half as good as your whole head, I'd go natural, too."

Mercedes eyed Unique's wig, then met his eyes. "Nique, you're rocking a Caesar underneath. You're already natural."

"No, I mean all those twist-outs and braid outs and things. Girl, I'd be singing and swishing like . _I am not my hair..." _he sang. After a moment, he added, "Do you think locs would look good on me?"

"I think everything would look good on you, girl," Mercedes replied, earning a hug from her friend.

"Thanks, boo." Unique made quick work of the rest of her head, then guided Mercedes to the sink for her wash. "So, why the change? You want hubby to finally see the real you? You gonna pull a Sanaa Lathan in _Something New_?"

"I mean, he hasn't actually seen how _my_ hair looks. I want to see his reaction." Truth be told, Mercedes had been thinking about this 'big reveal' for a while now, but always reneged on it in favor of her weave. The hair was more for function and protection than some desire to hide her true texture, but as their relationship moved forward, Mercedes realized that Sam would quickly have to get used to this part of her beauty routine. And though color was never an issue, his ignorance to the nature of black hair did cause her some alarm. Would it turn him off? Would he like it?

The love between them assured her that he'd see her as beautiful no matter what, but would he think she was still sexy? The last thing she wanted was for him to secretly hate her hair. His honest opinion was equally welcomed and feared.

"Don't worry, Diva. We're gonna hook you up. White boy's gonna love it so much that he'll ban all your future salon visits." Unique finished washing the conditioner out of her hair and turned off the faucet, wrapping his client's head in a towel. "Which is fine with me, by the way. More business for Unique!"

**O-O**

After three hours of deep conditioning, detangling, twisting, and sitting under the dryer, Mercedes had a head full of spiraled waves and curls framing her face. Unique had taken care to set the ends of her twists on small perm rods before she sat under the dryer, to give her end result a light bounce across her shoulders when she moved.

Unique rubbed a small amount of coconut oil between his palms and gently scrunched her style, then stepped back to admire his work. Her shiny, black tresses was equally as stunning as her extensions, if not more so.

"Oh Diva...if he doesn't flip over you, then he's a fool," complimented Unique, genuine in her awe. "You look like a winner."

"Really?" From the sparkle in Unique's eyes, Mercedes knew that she had to see it for herself. She ran to the bathroom mirror, flipping on the lights, and her reflection stunned her. Years of caring and protecting her hair had done wonders. Her hair—her natural hair—fell about an inch past her shoulders, stretched by Unique's flat twist technique and the gentle weight of the rollers placed on her ends. And though her volume was a bit more than she expected, it didn't overwhelm her round face or shorter frame. In fact, the new look seemed to give her a regal, mature appearance. She felt like Beyoncé. She felt fierce and confident.

"To hell with what Sam thinks...this is amazing!"

Unique strolled up behind her and twirled a few of her curls around her finger. "That's right. I don't do anything but amazing." He grabbed his client's shoulders, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "It's good that you're doing this, you know. Let him see all of you as soon as you can."

Mercedes nodded, understanding where his sentiment came from. Before Rayshawn, Unique had gone through a string of abusive boyfriends who either didn't know how to receive him as a transvestite or didn't want to. Rayshawn was the first person that didn't pressure him to choose between surgery or giving up his dresses and heels.

"He really is different, 'Nique," She reassured, gently squeezing his fingers. The sound of the door opening and closing sent her into a sudden frenzy. "Crap, that's Sam! Quick, hide in my closet!"

"Wha-?" Mercedes pushed him behind the double doors in her bedroom and locked him away before he could finish protesting. "This is unnecessary brutality, you know!" he yelled through the tiny slit between doors.

Mercedes hushed him. "Just for like, five minutes. I want to do this on my own, okay?"

"Mercy?" She turned her head to the voice bellowing her name from the kitchen. "Baby?"

"Five minutes," she promised her friend, before leaving the bedroom and pulling the door behind her.

"Mercy, we finished the move!" Sam yelled, throwing open the fridge. He sighed in relief when the cool air hit his sweaty body. He, Puck, and Burt had spent nearly three hours going from ninety degree weather to an apartment that's yet to be air-conditioned, moving heavy furniture and a few of Puck's belongings. They agreed to move with few breaks in between to get the boys set up before Burt dropped off the truck and flew back to Ohio. They were tired and a bit dehydrated, but the task was complete. Sam just needed to bring his bags of clothes over to pack them away in his new dresser. Mercedes had agreed to drive him and his things over there so that she could see the newly furnished apartment. "I'm just getting some water and then we can go. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Mercedes replied from behind him, shyly fussing with one of her shorter curls in front as she slowly walked towards him. "Ready whenever you are."

"Is it okay if I take the last two slices of bread? I'll buy you back another loaf," he asked, barely glancing at her over his shoulder as he pulled out several jars from the shelves.

"Sure. I'm going grocery shopping tomorrow anyway. Dad just put some money in my account." She watched him flitter between fridge and counter, pulling out her pack of peppered turkey, two kinds of cheeses, and a strange assortment of condiments that she believed didn't belong on one sandwich. Pickles and grape were two such items. "Please tell me you're not going to eat all that at once."

Sam kicked the door closed, arms laden with the last of his ingredients. He faced her with a smile, pulling the small bread bag from between his teeth when he'd set everything down. "it's gonna be delicious, you'll see! I'm starving..."

"You know what real starving is, Sam. This is just...greedy." Mercedes stepped further into the light, hoping he'd notice the shine from her oiled tresses and make a comment.

Sam had all of his ingredients in a flash, ketchup and mustard, along with other sauces, seeping through the spaces of meat and cheese and he lifted his sandwich. Mercedes scrunched her nose at the sight. She'd call it more of a disaster than a sandwich.

"I'm a growing boy," he argued when he sensed her disgust, just before he took his first bite. His quiet, satisfied moan made Mercedes smile and shake her head.

"At least drink some water with it," she told him, bumping hips as she passed him to pull the gallon jug from the fridge. Sam took the jug, popping off its cover with just a flick of his thumb.

"Don't mind if I do." Mercedes smacked his arm when he took a swig straight from the bottle. "What? You told me to drink water!"

"From a glass, nasty!" she laughed, slamming a plastic cup on the counter beside him. "I have to drink from that too, you know."

"You kiss me all the time! It's the same spit!" Sam argued, holding the glass and the jug of water in front of him. "Why does it matter where I drink from?"

Mercedes quirked her brow, resting her hands on her hips. "And what if I have guests?"

Sam glanced down at the now tainted opening of the bottle, considering the potential of strangers in his fiancee's apartment. "Then tell them to bring their own beverages. This water is for Samcedes only." He shrugged, taking another large swig from the bottle. Mercedes kissed his cheek and left him to eat, moving to the living room area to retrieve her purse.

"Hurry up and eat so we can bring your stuff over." she said lightly, turning her face to hide her frown. He hadn't noticed her hair. Maybe it wasn't that fantastic to him? Boys probably didn't notice either way, anyway. It took her father a week to realize that her mom had gotten highlights, and they were deeply and madly in love. Why would she expect any less from him?

A pair of arms circled her waist and hugged her from behind. "What's your rush?" he whispered sweetly in her ear, pressing a kiss to her neck. "We don't have to hurry over there. Do you have plans?"

"No." Mercedes smiled when he tucked her hair aside to kiss her jaw. Her body tensed involuntarily when he sniffed her and pulled back.

"You smell like coconuts," he observed aloud. A moment later, he buried his nose into her hair. "I like it on you. Is it a new shampoo?"

"It's an oil. I did my hair today," she replied, turning her face to look at him. Green eyes perused her head for the first time since he walked through her door, and Mercedes noted with relief that they didn't seem displeased by what they saw. Then again, looks can be deceiving. "Do you like it?"

"I do," he replied with a small smirk. "Your curls are usually longer, though. Is this a different hair?"

"It's my hair," she answered, a bit more defensively than she intended. "My hair is natural. It shrinks up."

"So this was the hair...under the other hair?" Sam asked with a small frown, trying to understand.

Mercedes sighed and nodded. "Yes. This is what I look like underneath."

Sam reached out to touch, but stopped himself at the last second. "Can I touch this one? Do the rules still apply?"

He asked so innocently. Mercedes couldn't help but grin at his trepidation, remembering the conversation she had with Unique about the intimacy hair rules she'd established with Sam. "You can't pull on it as hard as you did the weave, but yes, you can touch."

She half expected him to bury his fingers in deep. Instead, Sam surprised her by smoothing his hands gently across, careful not to disturb her curls. "I don't want to mess it up. It's so pretty."

His compliment lifted the small burden off her heart. "You think so? You like it?"

"Anything looks pretty on you, Mercy. Whatever hair you wear," he replied, as nonchalantly as most men unconcerned with the intricacies of hair styling do. "You just make it all look hot."

Mercedes' eyes widened at this. "Really? You think it looks hot, too?"

"Mhmm." To prove it, Sam leaned in to suckle her bottom lip, moaning as he did so. "Can you wear it more often? I might want to take this hair on a sex test run. See if it can go the distance."

Mercedes laughed from her belly, freely and loudly, before planting a deep kiss on his lips. "I have to warn you. The more I sweat, the more it's gonna shrink up. It's not gonna look the same after we're done."

Sam's eyes lit up at the challenge. "Are you saying the more I work you, the shorter it gets?"

"My hair's not some litmus test of pleasure, Sam!" snorted Mercedes, drawing her body closer to his to whisper, "But yeah. On a really hot day, it could shrink up to my ears."

Sam glanced down at the tresses hanging past her collar bone and grinned at the challenge. It was the same grin he wore when they were banned from a comic book store for having sex in the employee bathroom. That smile only meant trouble.

The sudden lift into his arms made Mercedes squeal. "If you let me have you now, I swear I'll get a second job and pay for all the hair you want." Sam begged, eyes roaming over her like a starving man.

Mercedes grinned back, utterly pleased. With her nod of consent, Sam littered her neck with kisses as she pulled on his shirt collar, toppling them over the armrest of her living room couch until they laid flat against the seats. She smiled when he reached for her hair and twirled a textured curl around his pinky, then moaned when his thrusting hips grew more forceful.

Unique pressed the mute button on his program, listening to the faint murmur of voices sounding from the thin wall behind the TV. He smiled in ease when he heard Mercedes's distinctive laugh, then rolled his eyes when the backboard from the couch rhythmically knocked against the wall. He got up and moved his friend's TV forward to avoid any accidents. She'd thank him for the quick thinking later.

"Not usually so careless, my ass. Boy's probably gonna throw her back out," he mused, pressing the mute button once again to resume watching Ru Paul's Drag Race. He turned up the volume when Sam's moans grew louder, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. "At this rate, Sam's gonna fund my shoe habit." He pulled the cash from his bra for a recount, bouncing his shoulders and wiggling around on Mercedes' bed at the abundance of bills he'd gotten so far. "Kitten heels, platforms and flats, oh my!"

**O-O**

The sound of laughter from her bedroom startled Mercedes awake a little after seven. Her sleep clouded mind quickly roused, remembering the guest locked in her closet. With a quick glance to Sam's sleeping form beside her, Mercedes carefully untangled their limbs and slid back into her jeans. She paused when Sam started to mumble and complain in his sleep and, thinking quickly, decided to leave her bundled sweatshirt beside him in place of her body. Sam latched on to its warmth and softness, and with one gentle sniff, recognizing her perfume, he settled back into slumber. Mercedes finished buttoning her jeans and leaned in to kiss the small dimple on his smiling cheek, then tiptoed to her bedroom to find Unique. He opened the bedroom door before she could turn the knob, greeting her with a knowing look. With a quick perusal of her disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes, Unique walked around her and chuckled, making his way to the door.

"I'll see myself out," he whispered, stopping by the door when he caught sight of the shirtless blonde on the couch. He playfully fanned himself, and Mercedes had to push him out the door when his moans of pleasure made her fiancée stir in his sleep.

"Stop it! Bye!" she whispered back, swatting her friend's behind with a grin as he stepped into the hallway. Unique slid one of his manicured acrylics between his teeth and stomped, sneaking in one last peek at the Adonis body before the door closed in his face.

Sam finally rolled over and woke up a little after eight, oblivious to the antics.

"Mercy?" called his gruff voice, feeling for his shirt in the darkened room. "You see my shirt?" Hearing no answer, he flipped the light switch on the near wall and glanced around, rubbing his eyes to adjust to the light. The sweatshirt fell from his lap as he stood and stretched. With a shrug, he picked it up off the floor and put it on, smiling when the familiar scent of perfume wafted from the collar. "Mercedes?"

She finally came out of her bedroom, wearing a different set of clothes. "Sorry. I was just tidying up my room a bit. The bed had crumbs."

Sam sat and took her hands, pulling her toward him until she was seated in his lap. "So that's where my shirt went." He smiled, bunching its hem until his fingers touched her smooth skin. "Am I gonna have to give this one up, too?"

"Why, you want it back? I can take it off." She grinned, pushing his hands up her body until the shirt lifted above her stomach. Sam bit his lip and nodded, rolling the tail end of the fabric into a knot behind her back. The Captain America logo stretched taut across her breasts, and Sam couldn't resist a quick nibble to each of the firm nipples that poked through.

"If you do, do it very slowly," he murmured as she moaned, pulling her body closer. Mercedes parted her thighs to straddle him better.

"Or you can take it off me?" she breathed, more of a command than a question.

"No," he replied, nodding his head yes with a playful smile. She grabbed his neck and bent down to kiss him, laughing against his lips.

"No means yes now?"

"When I'm with you and it's about you taking your clothes off, no means _hell _yes," Sam replied, kneading her bare thigh. "Yes means yes..._I don__'__t know_ means yes..._I__'__m exhausted_ means yes..."

"Okay, I get it! You're always on." Mercedes chuckled. She lifted her chin and allowed him to press kisses down her throat. When his hand slid higher up her leg, creeping inside her shorts, she rolled her hips in silent encouragement to continue. "How do you know my no means yes?"

Sam nipped her chin, then licked his bite marks. "Are you saying no right now?"

The flicks of his tongue made her shudder. "I'm saying...I'm ..." Mercedes closed her eyes and took a breath, reigning in her urges with sheer willpower alone. She gripped his wrist and pulled his groping fingers out of her pants. "I'm saying we should do something else to end our Christmas break, something other than sex. Watch a movie maybe?"

Undeterred, Sam's hands moved up to cup her breasts and circle her areolas with his thumbs. "This is better," he mumbled against her neck. "You don't think so?"

"What I _think_," she began, giggling as she pulled herself off his lap. "is that I'd like to see my fiance's eyes for more than five seconds. Besides, you're on punishment."

"For what?" he scoffed, watching her behind sway past him as she sauntered to the DVD player.

"For lying to me about your flight! And about coming here in January!" She reminded him, throwing in _The Avengers _and pressing play. "I hope you remember those last six rounds, because that's all you'll be getting for a long time."

"It was seven rounds actually if you count that thing we did on the dining room table, but I resent that!" he pouted. "Technically, those weren't lies!" Mercedes hopped into the seat beside him, side eyeing his sad face before her attention went to the tv screen. "They weren't!"

"Half-truths are still lies, Evans," she corrected, pressing the menu button on her remote. "I almost had a heart attack!"

Sam put on his puppy dog eyes and scooted closer, laying his head in her lap despite her resistance. "I can make it up to you?"

Mercedes sighed in a way that denoted long suffering, though her anger was false. "Without sex?" Sam sucked his teeth and snapped his fingers, making her laugh. "I have the perfect solution if you're open to it."

"Anything, my mistress." His kiss to her knuckles and disarming smirk sealed the deal. "Name it, and it is done."

"You can go back to McKinley and walk in June?" She'd made the suggestion dozens of times over the course of the week, and all were turned down with frowns and protests regarding the need for it. As expected, Sam let out a sigh.

"You're really not going to let that go, are you? I've already graduated, technically. Why go back?"

"So your family and friends can celebrate your accomplishments, babe. I know you say you don't care, but part of you has to want to wear the cap and gown and walk down the aisle to get your diploma. After all your hard work, you deserve to be celebrated." Not above manipulation, Mercedes gently ran her fingers through his hair, scratching all the sensitive places she'd learned in their lovemaking, and whined in her throat. "_Please?_"

Sam cursed under his breath, feeling his cock stir from her touch and baby soft voice. "Damnit Mercy, that's not fair."

"Please, Sammy?" she begged, biting the corner of her lip when their eyes met. When the green of his eyes darkened to a rich emerald, Mercedes knew she finally wore him down. "I really want to see you walk."

"Fine, Mercedes." He huffed, throwing an arm across his face. "If it's so important to you, I'll do it."

"No, do it because I know that it's more important to you than you're letting on," Mercedes said, tapping his nose. "Hate me for making you do this all you want, but I know that you're gonna love it."

Sam grumbled his disagreements under his breath. "Are you gonna come? If you don't, there's no point."

"Of course I'll be there, Sam," she said softly.

"And if I walk, you'll forgive me for half-lying to you?"

Mercedes pretended to consider the offer, then nodded her head in agreement. "No."

Sam laughed at the duality. "I hate you. You're awful."

"You love me. I'm awesome," she retorted, smiling. "Now, let's watch a movie like normal couples do, _without _it leading to sex."

Sam crossed his arms and sighed, trying his hardest to focus on the movie he'd seen more than he'd care to admit. But having Mercedes so close to him—right beside him even, tempting him to touch her softness—weakened his already fragile resolve. Five minutes in, his soft kisses ghosted across her shoulder, traveling up to her neck and jaw until tiny goose bumps littered her skin, practically begging him to lick them. To Mercedes' chagrin, he obeyed her flesh's silent plea for affection, flicking and swirling patterns with the tip of his tongue until her fist tightened in his hair. Their eyes met in the blue glow from the screen, communicating the same need.

"Bedroom?" he pleaded with round, pitiful eyes, bumping his nose against hers.

Mercedes licked her lips and kissed him eagerly, already frustrated and wet for him. "Screw it...Bedroom. You'll be on punishment tomorrow."

The movie played on until its end without an audience. The featured clips on the menu screen looped twelve times before Sam and Mercedes's cries of completion joined its heroic soundtrack.

**O-O**

**I used the gender specific pronoun "he" for Unique to identify him as a gay man/ transvestite. In my story, he isn't transgender. My apologies if this confused or offended anyone. I also thought it would be fun to introduce him in a way that strays from canon. I have another 'new' character from glee that will be introduced to my story in a similar way, but that's far in the future. **

**Tell me what you thought of this chapter in a review! I love reading them.**


	35. Chapter 33 For Better or Worse (1 of 2)

**A/N: Domestic Samcedes, followed by some seriously idiotic behavior from half of our favorite couple. Any guesses on who? **

**Enjoy! **

**O-O**

**UCLA—Spring Semester**

"Sam! Where's the pile of dirty jeans I asked you to have ready? I'm putting in my load now."

"They're in the basket on the shelf!" Sam yelled from the bathroom, peeking out the doorway with a mouth covered in toothpaste foam. Mercedes followed the direction of his pointing finger, finding the basket on the top most shelf of the laundry room. She rolled her eyes and glared at him, crossing her arms.

"Seriously?" Even on her toes, someone as vertically challenged as Mercedes couldn't reach for the clothes without having an accidental spill of some sort. She grimaced at the grey boxers hanging over the corner of the basket with a suspicious dark spot near the crotch. "Come get it for me."

Sam playfully shrugged and resumed brushing, bending over the sink to spit and rinse his mouth. "Hey, all the people that usually use the laundry room in this apartment are tall enough to ride the grown up rides at Disney world." He unscrewed the bottle of mouthwash and poured a bit more than a capful directly into his mouth, unconcerned with sharing germs with Puck.

Mercedes sucked her teeth, climbing on top of the washer to reach it herself. "Are you coming to help me get the clothes or not? I'm washing for you, damnit!" she called out, even though she'd managed to retrieve said clothes herself. All she got was a loud and overly obnoxious gargle as an answer. Through with being ignored, she stomped over to the bathroom, snuck up behind him, and whipped his back with his own dirty drawers. Sam coughed so hard that the green, minty fluid gushed through his nose.

"God!" Sam cried between coughing fits, casting an evil eye at Mercedes' smug grin before she threw his underwear over his head and sauntered away. He couldn't even get mad. He had it coming, and her feisty nature amused him.

Sam quickly wiped his face in a towel with a sniffle, grimacing at the sting in his nostrils from the alcohol and mint. Wrapping a towel around his naked form, he sauntered over to the laundry room and leaned against the door frame, watching his fiancée spray the stains on his jeans and throw them into the rushing water. She smiled without looking at him, whistling innocently as she completed her task. The entire scene felt positively domestic, and Sam suddenly couldn't envision Mercedes being anywhere else but with him on Saturday mornings, pummeling him with his unmentionables as he teased her about her height.

"I'll do the dishes?" Sam offered in apology, smiling as he hopped up on the dryer beside her.

Mercedes gave him a pointed stare. "They're your dishes, Sam." She smirked, snatching the underwear from his head to give it a quick spray and toss them with the pile of grey clothes waiting to be loaded. "That's hardly a favor to me."

"It kind of is. If you weren't here, those dishes wouldn't get done until next week," Sam argued. Her disgusted grimace made him laugh. "Thank you for doing this, by the way. You didn't have to."

Mercedes gave a bashful shrug, meeting his eyes with a small smile. "I had clothes to wash, too. Plus, it's cheaper than having to pay for the machines on campus. I figured I'd just do all of the laundry together. Save water."

Sam chuckled and scooted closer when she closed the door on the machine. "I don't see you washing Puck's things. It's his water bill too, you know," he mentioned with a wry grin, eyeing the lacy scraps of her lingerie amidst the dark delicates on the floor. "Then again, I'm pretty sure I don't want my best friend's underthings mixing with my lady's."

"_Underthings?_" Mercedes snorted and laughed way harder than she probably should have. Sam didn't find the word particularly funny sounding, but her laughter was infectious and made him chuckle along. "Yeah, that would be weird, wouldn't it? Almost as weird as me touching his underthings," she added, eyes dancing with mirth. "I bet he'd be more than willing to help me with laundry, though….and he wouldn't _dare _tease me about my height."

Sam quickly hopped off the dryer and hustled behind her, hugging her waist to pull her to his bare chest. "He can't love you like me, though." Sam complained with a pout, brushing her hair aside to kiss the corner of her jaw.

"Oh no?" she coyly replied, tilting her head to allow his lips to trail down the column of her neck. She reached back to curl her fingers around his hip bones, sliding her thumbs in the space between his Avengers towel and the soft skin hidden underneath. "We did date once, you know. I did tell you that, didn't I? I'm sure he did, too."

Sam slid a hand under her tank top to possessively palm her breast, tugging her bra down a bit rougher than intended. "His loss. You're mine now," he whispered, biting and sucking hickies along her shoulder as he pinched her nipple, until the flesh on both places grew stiff and bruised. Her stifled moan filled him with pride. It was a shallow victory over the ghost of her memories of a short lived relationship with Puck, but he was desperate enough to take it.

"Am I?" she whimpered, pulling his towel away. Her eyes closed a moment before Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise. Jade eyes darkened to a sinister green, brimming with lust for the woman in his arms.

"I guess I need to prove it." Sam growled, biting her earlobe hard enough to elicit a soft yelp. "You don't have anywhere to be today."

It was more of a statement than a question, but Mercedes still felt the need to answer. "No, nowhere else but here." He removed her sweatpants in one rough push, raising her left knee to rest on the corner of the jostling washing machine. Mercedes stepped out of her pants and kicked them aside with her right foot, pulling Sam's body forward until he rested flush against her back. The sudden pressure of his fingers on her clit made her cry out and claw his back. She scored the pale skin with repeated scratches, running her nails along the same lines over and over until a red, welted path stood in its wake. Sam rested his head against the back of hers as he rubbed the slick bundle in hard, fast circles.

"Sam…" She dug her nails into his sides when he started to rock against her, matching the force and speed of his fingers. With a quick nudge from his knee to her inner thigh, she parted her legs wider, and he held the crotch of her underwear aside to slide his middle finger into her sopping wetness. "Oh, yes."

"You don't touch any of Puck's clothes. He can wash his own damn briefs." Sam commanded, slipping a second finger inside of her. "Your underwear only touches mine, okay?"

"Yes, sir." Mercedes wantonly moaned, rocking on her knee to ride his fingers. He pushed deeper, palming her pussy, and her eyes clouded with desire as he pleasured her with rocking thrusts. Just as suddenly as he'd touched her, Mercedes grabbed his hair and forced their mouths to collide, assaulting him with tongue and teeth and guttural moans that made his cock stir until she yanked him away by his hair and allowed him oxygen. His desperate huffing breaths warmed her cheek and quickened her pulse, until the need for him to be closer overwhelmed reason.

Sam must have felt the same sense of urgency, because moments later he grabbed his erection and pressed the bulbous head against her center, easing in just enough to cloak the tip in the slippery heat building between her legs. Mercedes allowed him to stretch her, reveling in being pressed open, welcoming the teasing build to her impending release. When she clenched and pulled him too far in, enough to brush their thighs together and tickle her backside with tendrils of coarse pubic hair, Mercedes recalled the condom she'd found in the black skinny jeans on the floor.

"Condom," she reminded him, pushing him away to bend over and empty his pockets to retrieve it. They'd come too far to disregard safety now. Sam stroked himself and watched as she opened the gold foil packet, jerking his hips forward into his fist in anticipation. After a brief moment of stillness to slip on the latex and resume their previous positions, he was inside of his love once more, pumping away.

"Look at you. Just commanding dick whenever and wherever you want it. And you get it, too," he panted, kissing the back of her head as he reached around to resume playing with her clit. "Spoiled brat."

She playfully growled at the title, nipping his chin before she tugged it down and kissed his lips. "I always get what I want. You should know that by now."

"What about me? Do I get what I want?" Mercedes stilled his thrusts, responding with three hard, relentless clenches around his cock. Sam shuddered and slackened against her.

"You get the pleasure of a show. You love watching me cum, baby." She purred, lifting his head to speak against his lips. "You like the way I gush on your fingers. You like how I cream all over your cock. It gets you off."

Damn her for knowing him so well. He felt a surge of blood pulse through him from the imagery alone. "Yeah, I like it," he admitted, pulling his hips back. "You know what else I like?" he asked her, slowly pushing back in until he was balls deep inside her.

Mercedes was losing focus and steam. Her orgasm was fast approaching, and the dizzying pleasure made her unable to think straight anymore. She couldn't keep up with the playful banter if Sam insisted on making her body hum. "Tell me," she begged, pushing back against him to increase the friction.

Sam grabbed her hips, stilling her movements. Mercedes whined in her throat and looked at him, ready to complain, before he appeased her with a bruising kiss.

"I like," he eased his cock out, leaving the head inside her, "the way your eyes cross when I do this."

Mercedes barely had time to grab the sides of the shaking machine before Sam slammed inside her in rapid succession, flesh slapping against flesh hard enough to make her backside glow red. Sure enough, her eyes did cross, and she collapsed against the surface of the washer just as it hit its spin cycle. The vibrations stimulated her nipples, toying with the last of her sensitive places until she teetered over the edge of bliss with a mighty shout. Her body stopped seizing from orgasm as soon as the load was done, and Sam's body collapsed on top of her and cloaked her cooling skin in fresh warmth. Mercedes could feel the condom swell with each spurt of warm seed. She clenched around him with the last of her energies until he finished and softened inside her.

Sam pulled out and carefully removed the condom, disposing of it in the trashcan nestled between the washer and dryer. It was a strange place for a garbage can, but Puck had insisted that it was necessary. Sam finally understood why. Three other used condoms that didn't belong to Sam were tied up and discarded alongside his. He made a mental note to change the bag before Mercedes noticed.

Catching his second wind, Sam lifted her recovering body bridal style to his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them.

"I have to put in the new load," she tiredly murmured against his chest. "Put the wet clothes in the dryer."

"We can do that later." He laid her down gently on the mattress, adjusting the pillows behind her head, and took a moment to admire her. "Right now, I just want to enjoy a Saturday morning making my wife- to-be feel good, without roommates or parents interrupting us. Is that okay?"

Still too exhausted to move, Mercedes simply smiled and nodded in approval. Sam knelt by her feet and made quick work of rolling her underwear down her thighs, stopping when the material bunched behind her knees. Mercedes felt her legs being pushed back, toward her chest, and glanced down with a confused look on her face. Sam watched her eyes flit between the underwear and his eyes and understood.

"Let them stay there. Just trust me." And with a smile, Sam bent his head and gave her center a slow lick, watching her face as it contorted in pleasure.

"Oh god, Sam." Mercedes tried to spread her legs wider, but realized she couldn't. The resistance of her underwear's elastic band limited her range of movement. In effect, they were like handcuffs for her legs, preventing them from parting as far as she wanted them to. Mercedes groaned, wiggling around in frustration when Sam licked her again, and reached down to hold his head against her pussy. "More. I want your tongue."

"Someone's awake again." He chuckled, tongue jutting out to meet her demands. Her strangled gasp of his name when his top lip brushed against her clit got him hard again. Sam reached between his own legs to stroke himself, humming softly as he feasted.

Her legs jerked and kicked the air, but her underwear refused to budge an inch. Since she didn't want to use her hands in front of Sam, Mercedes cleverly slid her calves down his back and pulled them back up until the rolled up cotton undergarment sat against his neck. As his head bobbed, she cycled her feet as if she were riding a bike, and the joint effort slid the garment further and further down. Sam grabbed a moving ankle mid-cycle, peeking over her stomach with a disapproving glare.

"Patience, young Mercy-san," he scolded with a wag of his finger, pressing her thighs closed to throw her legs over one of his shoulders. Mercedes threw her head back against the pillows with a sigh, but silently complied.

Sam rewarded her obedience with rapid flicks of his tongue against her clit, and when he introduced two of his fingers and twisted as he plunged inside her, her whole body shook in delight, grateful that its needs overrode her stubborn tendencies.

Again she tried to open her legs and watch Sam go down on her, but his strong hands took the place of the underwear that held her captive, smacking her outer thigh until she stopped trying and kept them closed. The position made her feel every curl of his fingers inside her.

"Oh fuck, I'm coming!" She gasped, but little sound escaped when she finally released and flooded his mouth. Her throat made an unusual, irregular squeaking noise, almost like the broken whistling of a kettle, and the sound guided Sam's stroking hand until he sat up on his knees and decorated her backside with thick ropes of pearly white seed. Mercedes moaned as each spurt whipped across her flesh, hot and heavy, until her fiancé was spent.

Tugging out the last of his orgasm, Sam removed her underwear from around her ankles and used it to wipe her clean, then trailed kisses up her legs and stomach until his lips brushed against her smiling lips.

"Hi," she whispered, cupping his cheek.

"Hi," he said back, happy and glowing. "Happy Saturday. Do you want breakfast?"

"I have to wash the dishes first. After I put the clothes in the dryer." She smiled, completely unbothered by the chores. Domestic Mercedes obviously excited Sam, and she wasn't above cleaning his entire apartment if it meant the kind of repayment she received today. She liked to clean and was almost always horny.

"I'll wash the dishes and make us breakfast if you load the dryer," offered Sam, kissing her cheek. "We can do it together."

"Together." She smiled, playfully pinching his nose. "I like that."

"I can't wait to get married and start living together. It's gonna be so easy." Mercedes watched him hop off the bed and throw her underwear in the pile of dirty clothes before he made his way to the kitchen—completely naked. Thankfully, he re-thought his decision and turned back. Mercedes snatched up the clean pair of boxers and jeans beside her before he could pick them up from the bed, twirling his underwear around her finger with a wry smile.

Feeling playful himself, Sam tickled her sides until she surrendered his boxers, then tickled her feet until he could wrench his jeans from her fingers.

"How does it feel? Trying to get clothes you can't reach?" she teased, licking her lips as she watched him dress.

"I feel..." Sam began, pausing to shimmy into his skinny jeans. "like payback's a short, brown woman with a personal vendetta against me." He reached over her to grab a shirt, pecking a kiss on her cheek as he did so. "Am I right?"

"Maybe." She answered, then pouted when the sight of his bare chest disappeared. "You didn't have to put on a shirt, too."

"I'm gonna cook." Sam chuckled, sliding his arms into the sleeves of his graphic tee. "You don't want me to get burns in strange places, do you?"

"I can kiss them better if you do." Mercedes offered, tugging him closer. Sam hummed at the sudden press of her lips to his. Her tongue probed for entrance, and Sam yielded and allowed her in, cocking his head to greet her with an equal assault of tongue. Wisely, he eased back before she could pull him back into bed, dragging her bottom lip between his teeth before he pulled away.

"No," Mercedes whined, pulling him back for another kiss. She missed her target, landing on his chin instead. "Come back."

"We have to eat, Mercedes, " explained Sam, smiling in disbelief at the desperate, pleading look in her eyes. "See? What did I tell you? Just demanding dick whenever you want, like I'm just gonna drop my pants for you anytime, anywhere."

"Name one time you haven't." Mercedes whispered as she kissed down his neck, biting a small patch of flesh along the way to mark her territory. "Name one time you won't."

"That's my problem." He groaned, pressing a kiss to her hair just before her kisses traveled lower. "After breakfast, okay?" Sam gently pushed her away and left for the kitchen with a wink, bouncing on the balls of his feet with each step. Such a short distance away, yet Mercedes found herself missing him already.

Why couldn't they live together now?

"I'll ask him later. When the time's right," she promised herself, slipping on one of the long shirts from the clean pile beside her before making her way to the laundry room. If managing an apartment with Sam felt perfect now, then following logic, it would most certainly feel equally as perfect later.

Rushing into cohabitation could hurt their relationship. Sure, sex on command and shared duties around the house was nice, but Mercedes knew that living together wouldn't always be so wonderful. They had to make sure they were prepared for the bad days, when they wanted to argue and get away from each other. As she threw the clothes in the dryer and prepared the next load, Mercedes made up her mind to wait until after they were married. The last thing she wanted was to invite Sam to live with her for all the wrong reasons.

**O-O**

Sam wiped down the wet counter top with a towel and turned to flip the last cinnamon pancake on the skillet, shutting the stove off just as Mercedes emerged from the bathroom. He smiled at her form fitting choice of blue jeans and the lingering scent of her body wash wafting from her approaching form, but she was too immersed in her phone call to notice.

"Yeah, I agree...that's what I'm saying, all it needs is a good bass and some background vocals. We can layer my runs from yesterday onto the base track," she replied to her caller. Sam brought their breakfast to the table and decided to start without her, correctly deducing that the conversation with her manager would last longer than the warmth of their food. Her album was steadily developing, due to be released sometime next year. The success of her single, months of sacrificed weekends in the making, would determine whether or not her release date would be bumped up to early spring instead of late fall. In Mercedes' mind, her music was album ready.

"I'm telling you, once we finish this track, the album is a done deal. I've been working on these songs since I was fourteen!" Mercedes insisted, pacing as she nibbled her nails. Sensing her nerves, Sam turned his chair towards her and grabbed her hand before she turned away, directing her to his lap. Mercedes smiled gratefully and sat facing him, still visibly pensive as she kissed his cheek and allowed him to feed her a forkful of scrambled eggs. She chewed and swallowed quickly—a bit too quickly for Sam's liking—to answer the deep voiced man on the other end.

"Reece, track seven is _supposed _to be a ballad. I refuse to remix it." Her fluttering eye roll made Sam laugh. He tapped her lips with the tines of his fork and opened his mouth, silently instructing her to do the same. She obeyed and welcomed the warm, syrup coated sliver of pancake on her jutted tongue. Sam watched her carefully as he chewed, waiting for her eyes to light up or her lips to quirk in that way that indicated she was pleased. His cinnamon pancakes had cheered her up in the past when stress overwhelmed her. To Sam's displeasure, she merely swallowed and sighed.

"Okay, I'll be in at three." Sam glanced at the digital clock on the microwave and frowned. He dropped the fork in his hand to grab her chin, meeting her eyes.

"No Mercedes," he mouthed. "Our weekend." It was already a quarter to two. At this rate, they'd never spend a weekend together without business interrupting them.

She smiled sheepishly and shrugged, cupping the speaker on her phone. "Just two hours," she whispered, pouting. His stern face met her pleading one for several seconds until he broke their stare and nodded in defeat.

"_Two _hours," He told her sternly, knowing her insane work ethic and perfectionism would turn two hours into ten without a second thought. "No more."

Mercedes eagerly nodded, kissing his lips in promise. "I swear," she mouthed, removing her hand from the speaker. "Reese, I'm only coming in until five today. I promised my fiancée a work-free weekend once a month and I intend to keep my promise." Mercedes idly took Sam's fork and speared several cut up triangles of pancake from her plate, flying a mock airplane toward her love's mouth until he reluctantly grinned and allowed her to feed him. Pleased by his smile, she grinned back, circling his dimples with the rounded handle of her fork as he chewed.

The circling stopped when the man on the other end finished his rant. "Reese, cut the crap. You know I'm one of the most dedicated people on Mr. Simmons label. DMC records is gonna remember my name, and it won't be just because of my voice. I'm driven." The label was still new and under a lot of pressure to be great. Having a major name like Simmons attached to it only increased the pressure tenfold. Mercedes was their first major up and coming artist, a relative unknown marketed as having indescribable talent. The label couldn't afford to have her fail. But whenever Reese expressed his doubts about her dedication to music, she reminded him that a small homemade DVD of a showcase that she managed and assembled herself got her to where she was. The reminder usually silenced any argument.

Judging by her victorious smirk, Reese caved to her logic. "Exactly. Next week I'm all yours."

Sam grit his teeth at her choice of words and pressed her closer to him, letting his hands linger on the curve of her ass. Mercedes playfully swatted his hands away, pulling them up to rest on her waist instead. "You know, vocals only," she amended, cupping her man's scowling face. "The rest is property of Sam Evans."

"Hell yeah!" Sam quietly cheered. The couple nodded and shared a quiet laugh.

"Okay, just let me finish breakfast and I'll be in down there in fifteen...Alright Reese, I got you." Mercedes muttered a few polite pleasantries before ending the call, shoving the cell phone in her back pocket. Her arms fell loosely around Sam's shoulders. "Cinnamon pancakes today? How'd you know I'd need them?" she purred, licking away the drop of maple syrup that clung to his lower lip.

"It's one of my superpowers," he answered, swiping his finger around the nearly empty plate until it was coated in maple-flavored goodness. "Want to know the other one?"

"What? What is it?" Mercedes' nose wrinkled in disgust when he smeared the sticky amber liquid across his mouth.

"Chick magnet," he mumbled through the ooze, pouting his lips to be kissed. Mercedes chuckled and obliged him, tracing the bow of his mouth with her tongue before she parted his lips and shared the sweetness.

"Obviously." she muttered between smacking, sticky kisses. "You taste too good to resist."

"It's my lip gloss," he flirted. "I heard it's poppin'."

Mercedes laughed at his humor, twirling the hair near his nape around her fingers. "Poppin' enough to let you feed me. You know I still feel a way about that," she said against his lips, stealing another kiss. "I better be careful. That superpower's gonna make me give you whatever you want."

"Except a weekend to ourselves," he grumbled. Mercedes grew stiff and pulled back at his change in mood.

"Sam, can we not do this right now? I told you, just give me another month and the album will be set. Then, we can have all the weekends together we want. Right now, I have to make sacrifices." Her thumbs gently circled his temples. "_We _have to make sacrifices.

"I know," he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "I just miss you. It's so boring when you're not around."

"That's because you need to leave your apartment and actually meet people, babe. Did you find a club on campus that you liked? Maybe find a frat party or go to one of the clubs off campus?" She suggested in a gentle voice.

All of his attempts to join the party scene in LA had been an absolute bust. Sam had a tendency to be unusually shy around new people, so clubs and bars only left him recluse in corners. Some of the extracurricular activities on campus sounded appealing in theory, but the thought of doing things with people who weren't used to his unusual humor unnerved him. Embarrassment could ruin his reputation, like it had done in elementary and middle school. If it wasn't for glee club, he wouldn't have gotten to know anyone at McKinley.

Mercedes failed to understand his plight. One smile, and she owned rooms when she entered them. Her presence commanded attention and kept those around her hungry for more of her presence. Sam loved and envied her charisma.

"There's this art club I'm considering. They do sculptures and work with live models. Since human pieces aren't my strong suit, I might give it a try," he answered with a noncommittal shrug. "Could be fun."

Mercedes hated how defeated he sounded, but didn't know how to help him. Plus, judging from the reading on her clock, she didn't have much time to conjure up her usual helpful advice. "Sounds great, babe. Go for it," she encouraged, kissing his cheek as she climbed off of his lap. "I'm gonna get my purse and head to the studio. Maybe we can meet for lunch after I'm done?"

Mercedes missed Sam's pained wince at her suggestion. His money was as low as his self-esteem, and their weekly lunch dates and take-out orders for dinner were starting to add up. Coupled with the insane amount money he had to borrow to attend such a prestigious college, he and his parents would be broke and indebted to the federal government until his children were in college.

Sam knew that Mercedes was accustomed to a certain lifestyle. She was the beloved daughter of a dentist and a paralegal with a three-digit weekly allowance and a burgeoning career as an R&B artist. Money would always flow freely for her. He knew that when they started dating. Why make it an issue now, when they were already well established as a couple? Besides, his pride wouldn't allow him to admit to being less than her equal. Not again. Her pity would demolish his spirit.

So, in his typical passive aggressive fashion, Sam channeled all of his frustrations into the job search. Once things were stable, he'd be able to take her to all of the fancy restaurants she desired.

"Sam?" Mercedes emerged from the bedroom, purse and heels in hand. The concern on her round, angelic face tore him from his self-induced silence. "We don't have to go out, you know. I just wanted to spend time together." Mercedes nibbled her lip, choosing her next words carefully. "I know the job hunt has been hard on you. I can pay if you want. Pay me back later?"

Sam averted his eyes and quickly cleared the table of dishes, running to the kitchen to keep his faint blush out of her line of sight. "No, it's cool. I was just thinking that I could cook for us instead of dining out today. Change it up a little bit?"

Mercedes smiled and nodded at the idea. "I'd like that. I love the way you cook." Sam's eyes remained focused on his task, immersing his arms in a sink full of suds and clanging silverware. His only acknowledgement of her compliment was a soft grunt.

She headed for the door, but paused before her hand touched the doorknob. Sam had been shutting down more often lately, especially when they discussed real world issues, like money and their social lives. Personally, she found her niche rather early on in her freshman year at UCLA. Her other half didn't seem to enjoy college life as much as she did. Outside of sex and their personal relationship, conversations felt like walking on eggshells, each choosing their words carefully to please the other. It wasn't right. She couldn't leave to perfect a CD expressing the beauty and joy of love when the one she cared about most was clearly in so much pain and couldn't express it.

"Sam?" she said softly. He looked up, expectation brimming in his eyes. "Even if you don't...If I'm happy and you're...I don't want..." She took a breath and found her words. "I can't be happy if you're not happy. You know that, right? I just want you to be happy."

She was about to cry. Sam turned off the faucet, wiped his hands, and walked over to hug her before it happened. She sighed into his chest, finding peace in his solidity. Strong arms wrapped around her and kept her anchored.

"I know," he softly replied, resting his chin atop her head. "I really want to be. I'm sorry for making you worry. I don't mean to."

"You don't smile anymore, baby. Not like you used to." He kissed her forehead in a silent apology. "I didn't want to tell you and make you feel worse, but I notice. I want you to have your own thing going on too, outside of what we have."

"I will!" he assured her with a strained smile, cupping her cheeks. "I told you, I'm checking out that art club come Monday. Today, I'll job hunt. Maybe hang out with Puck for a while. I heard there's a house party he wanted to crash later, since he's gonna be off from pool cleaning early today. I might meet some new friends." Sam kissed Mercedes's furrowed, unconvinced brow. "Don't worry. I'm gonna be okay."

Brown eyes squinted, searching his green ones for any trace on insincerity. His eyes were guarded and unreadable. With a nod, she relented and smiled back, leaning in to the second kiss pressed to her forehead. "Okay, Sam. Good luck and have fun."

He opened the front door for her, chucking her chin until her cheeks revealed dimples. "I love you, Mr. Evans. "

"I love you more." Sam replied sincerely, leaning against the door frame.

"Oh, before I go..." Mercedes fished out a small card from her pocket, embossed with gold and silver lettering. "I found this in the dryer. It has some number on it, written in very pretty _girly _script I might add, but to prove what a good fiancée I am, I didn't call it." With a playful wink, she slid on her heels and strut to the elevator. Sam licked his lips as he watched her ass saunter away. He already missed the feeling of her body against his.

He closed the door once the elevator doors closed, eyeing the slightly wrinkled card in his hand. Judging from its lasting power in the washer and dryer, the card was made from heavy stock paper. _Good quality silk, _his graphic designing brain noted. Flipping the card over, he studied the script and tried to analyze the handwriting on the back. His mind scrolled through a list of his friends' signatures, but they all seemed like chicken scratch compared to the elegant, barely legible cursive.

Deciding to take a chance, he dialed the number with the strange area code on his cell and took a seat around the dining table, waiting for an answer. The sweet, kind voice that greeted him on the other end made him smile brighter than he had in months with a stranger.

"Hello again, Ms. Hill. It's Sam. Sam Evans?" He chuckled at her enthusiastic reply. Who knew he was so memorable? "Listen, I know it's a little random and out of the blue, but I was wondering if that job offer was still open?"

Unknowingly, Mercedes solved his job dilemma in less than ten minutes. Faith was in LA on a small local tour and needed some backstage help. The work required little brain power and all muscle-right in Sam's comfort zone. Once he shared his availability and they discussed pay and locations, Sam ended the call with an ecstatic grin. By midnight tomorrow, the end time of her first performance, he'd be five hundred dollars richer. Sam could buy Mercedes breakfast, lunch and dinner for a week if she wanted it.

"Oh shit, Mercedes." His smile gave way to a pained groan. Though her relationship with Faith had ended on polite terms, Mercedes was adamant on separating herself from that part of her past. Save for her friendship with Erin, her history with the family was never discussed. In a lot of ways, Faith was still Ana to her, part of the equation that created Donovan. If Sam told her who his new boss was, it might cause an irrevocable rift between them.

Maybe he didn't need to tell her yet. Or, maybe he could share the good news and avoid discussing the details. It was only a short term position after all, two weeks to a month tops until the tour moved to another city. The job would provide funds until he could find something permanent. Why ruin their relationship over temp work as a stagehand? It wouldn't _technically _be a lie if he only told Mercedes the parts of the truth that wouldn't hurt her.

_Half-truths are still lies, Sam_.

He waved away his fiancee's judging voice before it could change his mind. Just like his surprise appearance in LA, this half-truth would make her happy in the long run. Her happiness—their happiness—was all that mattered.

**O-O**

By 4:30PM, Sam had chicken browning on the stove, broccoli florets steamed to crisp perfection, and got started on the brown rice and macaroni and cheese. He was the kind of guy that needed a thick, savory sauce of some sort over his starches, like gravy over his baked potato or ketchup and hot sauce over his fries. Mercedes was the one that favored the grainy, dry crap—the label had her on some healthier eating kick for months to 'improve her voice and stamina for touring.' If she wasn't so secure in herself, he'd worry about her falling prey to the media's thinly veiled attempts to make her slimmer. Keeping her curves was the one thing they were both adamant about, and Reese insisted that the label had no interest in changing the way she looked. In fact, her small intro article in Jet magazine praised DMC records for finding such 'full figured, dynamite talent' and voiced their hopes to see more artists like her on their TV screens. As long as their stance on her appearance was understood, he'd cook as much whole grain pasta and organic vegetables as his fiancée demanded.

"Maybe I should start following her lead and stop eating so much garbage," Sam lifted his shirt and glanced down, eyeing his stomach with a grimace. His six pack had become an unsightly five and a half, and that's only if he sucked in and held his breath. Weigh-ins had gotten more frequent in the past couple of months, almost daily, and the number refused to change. In high school, he'd gain at least a pound or two of muscle by now, especially after a good month of juice cleansing and extra weight training. Mercedes had insisted that his body looked the same, but by his own particular standards, Sam felt that he'd let himself go. "No more mac and cheese after today, blondie. Gotta keep the sexy."

The little voice in the back of his mind, one that sounded an awful lot like Dr. Taylor, tried to remind him of the dangers of obsessing over his weight and how close he came to an eating disorder back in sophomore year, but the buzzing phone vibrating on the countertop gave him reason to ignore it.

He glanced at the clock on the microwave out of months of habit and sighed, feeling the familiar sense of dread weigh his stomach. It was ten to five. The rice had just finished cooking in the rice cooker Mr. Jones had purchased as a belated Christmas gift. The meat on the stove had just begun to cool. Sam knew exactly who was calling and why, and it was never a good thing.

He reached for containers in the cabinets above him before answering his phone.

"How long are you gonna be this time, Mercy?" he asked dispiritedly, stacking the plastic Tupperware side by side on the counter to distribute the food. The meat Tupperware, as Sam crowned the large round one with the bright red cover, still held the faint orange grease stains from last month's lasagna. That had been the night that he'd stopped keeping count of missed dinners, on their uncelebrated 'libraversary', marking the day he'd first asked her out. Did she even remember? Did she care? Did she realize how inconsiderate this was, always putting her work before their relationship?

The guilty silence on the other end suggested that she did. "An hour? Maybe two? I know I say that all the time, but I really mean this one, babe," she promised, her voice pitchy and pleading. "Did you already make dinner?"

"Yeah, but it was no big deal. I probably burned the chicken, anyway," half-joked Sam, veiling his strained voice with a laugh. It was a lie. His chicken was perfection. He looked up the recipe online and made sure to measure out all of his ingredients. It even looked like the picture online, down to the sauce and the sprig of mint garnishing the dish. Sam plopped his creation into the plastic container with a nonchalant shrug.

"Please stop lying to try and make me feel better. I hurt your feelings and I'm so sorry. I broke my promise to you, and I _hate _doing that. It's okay to be mad at me," she resignedly replied. His silence made her know exactly how right she was. "Are you? Mad, I mean?"

"Not mad, just...frustrated." Sam confessed, lifting the pot to dump the vegetables directly into the square plastic container. He shook the handles a bit harder than necessary to free a stuck sprig of broccoli from the bottom, when reason told him that he simply could have used his spoon. "How many more weekends of this, Mercy? I know this is important to you, to both of us really, but _us _should be important too, right?"

"That's the good news ! This really _will _be the last night of this!" she excitedly exclaimed. "It's all done."

Sam nearly dropped the lid in his hands. "The whole album is done?" he asked in disbelief. "Like, done as in finished? Like ready to play on the radio and put on a CD done?"

"Yeah! Even Reese thinks so," she replied, clutching her phone and grinning like mad. "This is it, babe. I'm one green light from the label away from getting that Grammy. I can feel it."

Sam finally allowed himself to smile, sealing off all the containers of food with finality. "And then, I can finally have a proper weekend alone with my fiancée, without exams or managers or studio time getting in the way."

"I can do you one better, Evans." She countered smugly, voice falling away to a soft, enticing purr. "Once I get that Grammy in my hands, we can get _married_."

Mercedes could feel the brightness of his grin through the phone. It practically burned her cheek. "You were really serious about that?!" he asked, shocked at the revelation. "I mean, I thought you were just saying that so I'd feel good. I thought we'd have to wait until graduation."

"Sam, after all of the sacrifices we've made in our relationship to make this dream of mine happen, I can't imagine having that trophy on a shelf that isn't ours," she replied, sighing happily at the thought. "Can you imagine? I can have _Mercedes Jones-Evans_ on my diploma if this all works out."

"Well, screw dinner then!" Sam excitedly yelled, carelessly tossing the warm containers into the fridge and kicking the door closed without a care. "If I knew that, I'd have you recording tracks in your sleep!"

Mercedes threw her head back and laughed, falling back onto the studio couch behind her. "You idiot!" she chided playfully, then added, when she calmed and caught her breath, "At least you're my idiot."

Past Sam would have felt a way if Quinn, Santana, or anyone else had called him that. But hearing the way Mercedes said it, so endearingly, made Sam want to be her idiot for the rest of his life. "Guess what your idiot got done today, babe?"

"Besides another fabulous dinner I'm not gonna get to taste until tomorrow?"

"Yes, besides that." Sam chuckled, licking the small wooden spoon coated in Velveeta before throwing it into the sink. "I got a job today!"

"_Already_?!" Mercedes screeched. "Where? With who? Tell me all the details! When do you start?"

"I'm a stagehand for a bunch of concerts downtown. It's temp work, but it pays pretty well, and I start Monday." Sam purposefully avoided her second question, hoping that she didn't notice.

"Who's the artist?" Damn her nosy behind and her twenty questions. "Is it someone big?"

"I'm just a stage hand, Mercy," he laughed, albeit a little uneasily.

"Well, sometimes you can tell how big the act is by the pay. Did they tell you how much you're getting?"

"Five hundred for my first night, breaking down the stage. Probably about two to four hours work."

"Well, it's definitely not a garage band!" she laughed. "Look at you, rolling in money now. I guess those days of home cooked mac and cheese are over, huh? Praise God!"

"Don't worry. I told you, it's a temp job. Besides, the money's not _that _big." It bothered him, how quick she was to mention his cheap alternative to eating out when talking about his new job. "I'll still be macking and cheesing with the rest of the poor college students."

"Of course," she affectionately teased. "But seriously, I'm super proud of you, Sam. This is a step into something new for you. I'm happy that you've found your thing. It's all I wanted for you." Music and her friends gave her so much joy, and her happiness spilled over into her relationship with him. She wanted him to find something that didn't involve their love, just to see him smile with people other than her. She missed the days when he gushed about his artwork, or texted her the silly things Artie and Puck said to him over lunch. "Are you still going to that frat party with Puck tonight? If you are, I can pick you up and bring you home later so we can..._celebrate properly_."

Sam's eyes grew darker at her suggestive tone, imagining all the different ways she could reward him. "Yeah? Will there be whipped cream involved? If so, we're fresh out at your apartment."

Mercedes gave him a pretty giggle. "I'll stop by the store on my way to the party." she assured him. "Anything else, Mr. Breadwinner? Cider and candles maybe?"

"Oh, the possibilities," Sam growled, rubbing his hands together. His inner freak always wondered how cold champagne would taste licked from a warm navel. Since they were underage, cider would be a reasonable alternative. As for the candles... "Do I get to make a wish?"

"What else could you wish for? I thought everything you wanted already happened." She wondered, in a gentle voice. "So far, at least."

"Well, that's true. I've already got you. Can't see God blessing me with anything better." Her awed gasp made his heart swell. "But then, I'm still considering that superhero wedding idea..."

"Samuel Evans, If I walk down the aisle to you in a cape and armor dressed as Thor, so help you and your unborn children..." Hearing such a serious threat from such a gentle voice was already funny, but Sam imagined the way her eyes would squint when she chastised him, and chortled aloud. "I'm serious! No superheroes. We already agreed that my judgment was best when it came to the theme of our big day, and good taste practically demands that I throw anything involving bad wigs and hammers out of the window."

"Oh c'mon, it'll be just like comic-con!" he insisted, still silently shaking with laughter. "It could be fun!"

"_No_." With a roll of her eyes, she changed the subject. "What time is the party tonight?"

"Seven, I think. I'm gonna get home and change now. Knowing Puck, we probably won't really get there until, like, eight thirty or some shit. Something about fashionably late." Sam scoffed the notion away. "Do I look like I give a crap about fashion? If they don't like me early, they sure as hell ain't gonna like me late. I'ma get there on time...probably bring dip, too. Give these LA kids a dose of southern hospitality."

Mercedes chuckled, but the comment brought her an unusual sense of unease. "Don't overwhelm them. Not everyone's used to your unique charisma." The line grew quiet again, and Mercedes internally chastised herself for giving him reasons to feel insecure before his first big college party. "I just mean, take it slow. Don't...don't feel pressured to change for people if they don't respond right away. I love how you are and I know they'll love you, too. Let them get to know the real you, okay? Let them in."

"Yes, Mom. I promise I'll play nice and make friends. I won't steal anyone's crayons and call them names." Sam flatly replied. Her advice echoed in his brain, and made him decidedly more nervous than he was before.

"Shut up, you know what I mean," she laughed lightly, "Go be awesome, like always. When you're you, you're perfect. I have faith in you."

Her compliment seemed to ease the sting of her earlier words, if Sam's relieved exhale was any indication. "Did I tell you I love you today?"

"Only about two hours and fifteen minutes ago. That's an awfully long time." She replied.

"Well, I love you," he said warmly. "Hopefully I won't have to wait another two hours and fifteen minutes to tell you again. I hope even more that it won't be over the phone."

Her cheeks always held a residual sting after Mercedes would speak with Sam, strained from smiling so hard for so long. This conversation was no exception. "I love you, too," she replied. "Hang up to go get ready for your party and you might not have to. I'll be able to see you in person."

"Promise?"

"Have I ever broken one?" Another brief, knowing silence loomed between them. "Never mind, don't answer that. I'll be there."

The couple shared an easy laugh, repeating their goodbyes and declarations of affection before, reluctantly, ending their call.

**O-O**

"Dude, how did I get saddled with the unfortunate task of being your babysitter? I plan on getting far too drunk to do that!"

Puck came to pick Sam up twenty minutes later, stalled a bit by LA traffic and his incessant need to 'badassify' himself, as he coined the phrase, before the party. His dark shades and spiked leather jacket would have looked ridiculous in broad daylight, but the setting sun gave the sky a rosy glow that served as the perfect backdrop for dangerous getups. Sam, in his normal everyday graphic tee and jeans, was the one who felt underdressed. He climbed in the passenger seat, frowning at his mohawked friend he buckled himself in.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this text message I got fifteen minutes ago from your ball and chain."

Sam's frown deepened as Puck tossed the phone into his lap. He tapped the screen until it lit, and a curious blush rose up his neck to color his cheeks as he read the text message.

**Puck, please take care of Sam tonight. It's his first party out and he tends to do out of the ordinary things when he's nervous or anxious. Make sure he doesn't drink too much or go crazy? For me?**

**Mercedes**

"Geez, Mercy." Sam groaned, covering his eyes and shrinking into his seat in shame. Concern he could deal with. Pulling a mother hen and asking his best friend to keep him in check behind his back was mortifying. "I really hate when she does this."

"Hey, don't sweat it. It's a chick thing. She loves you or whatever." Puck shrugged. "It's not like you have to listen to her."

"Well…" Sam reluctantly admitted "I mean, I guess she does have a point about me. I do have a tendency to geek out when I'm around people I don't know."

"And what better way to get over nerves than a healthy dose of alcohol and scantily clad college girls rubbing up on you when your fiancée isn't around? Think of it as an early bachelor party." advised Puck. "You're a grown man! You've got to show her that you can act like one without having a chaperone. Do you want to be a social reject your entire life?" Sam's glare nearly tore him in two. Puck raised his hands in defense. "No offense."

"No, of course not." insisted Sam, scratching his head. "I just….I don't know what to do with myself at these things, man. I mean, ripping my shirt and pulling a windy city worked at McKinley, but this is a different crowd. They're more worldly. I'm like a hick in this town."

"Just follow my lead, my blonde compadre, and you won't fail. Consider this a crash course in Puckonomics, free of charge." Puck assured, reaching over to ruffle Sam's hair. "Aww, little Sammy's gonna become a man!"

"Shut up, ass wipe." Sam scoffed, smacking Puck's hand away, then the back of his head. "I'm already a man."

"Getting a little daily nookie from the same girl for the past year does not a man make, young one." Puck told him in his best scholarly voice. "You must navigate the world and master it. Make it kneel before you and worship the ground beneath your feet."

Sam smirked at the semi-serious advice. "Meaning?"

"Meaning I plan to drink myself to oblivion and get some sorority tail and I refuse to be responsible for you!" Puck's words made Sam's blush deepen. "If you're rolling with me, you have to be able to handle yourself. Can you?"

His stomach turned and quivered at the thought of the crowd of strangers awaiting them, but Sam refused to look weak in front of Puck. Even if he didn't feel bold, he could feign confidence until the party was over. Maybe he'd actually enjoy himself somewhere in between. He couldn't let Mercedes or Puck think that he'd always need a familiar face around him to cope in college social settings.

_Man up, Evans. Do it now, or you'll be a loser for the rest of your life. _"I'm good. Mercy's just overprotective. It's just one little party. I'm not gonna bitch out."

"My man!" cheered Puck, punching his shoulder. "Alright, let's get you home and changed. I'm trying to roll in before they pull out the keg and the stripper pole."

Sam's eyes widened in naïve shock. "They actually do that at frat parties? I thought that was just in the movies?"

Puck chuckled, squinting at his friend's obvious fear. "You sure you're gonna be okay? You might see some things you aren't used to." His voice lowered to a playfully menacing depth. "There could be drugs….and random sex….and half naked girls that aren't Mercedes." His tan fingers wiggled around the space between them. "Oooh….scary…."

Sam cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. "Nothing I haven't seen before. I used to strip at a club, remember? I saw stuff like that all the time." He replied, only half lying. He did see two old folks trying to get it on in a bathroom once. One of the male strippers that worked with him had a coke addiction, but he never actually witnessed him using. Still, he had _some _exposure.

"So why are you blushing like a virgin?"

"I'm not!" Sam defended, voice quivering a bit too much to be believable. "I was just a little shocked at first, that's all. Let's go party."

Puck shrugged and started the engine, passing one more glance over his friend before he pulled off. "I'm surprised your saintly fiancée would allow you to go to a frat party by yourself."

"Mercy doesn't control what I do. I'm my own man." Sam corrected. "Fuck, if I wanna drink and dance, I can."

"Well excuse me, you party animal." Puck teased, shoulders shaking as he silently laughed. "Don't let me stop you."

Sam remained serious throughout the entire drive, more determined than ever to have the wildest time he possibly could when they arrived at the party. College was the time to reinvent images and change how people perceive you. If he played his cards right, he'd could be a boss on campus.

_If I could hide my awkward self away long enough to get people to like me, that is. _This wouldn't be like high school. No slushies to the face, no glee club, and no celebrity impersonations. Booze, loud music, and the sex appeal of his above average body would take their places. What was wrong with faking it until he made friends? Besides, he couldn't ride Mercedes' coat tails for the rest of his life. He needed to find his own thing, like she'd recommended. Maybe, for the first time since he's been here, he wouldn't feel so out of place….

**O-O**

A minute before nine, Mercedes was out of the studio and in her car to head to the party, as promised. She was exhausted, but the effort was worth it. Her songs were album ready. There was no way her management wouldn't want to release her single early. Plus, she was on top of all of her school work and managed to keep her word to Sam. Out of everything, their relationship seemed to need the most work. Some light-hearted together time, she hoped, around drinks and good music would ease the tension she'd been feeling in the air lately.

_In .4 miles, keep to the right_, chimed her navigation system as she turned the corner. Mercedes dismissed her worries and returned her focus to the road. Sam was okay. Their relationship was just fine.

"It's just a little rough patch. All couples have them. Hell, we've had a couple of them already," she reminded herself out loud. Mercedes took a breath and willed her worries to vanish, just as she arrived at her destination.

"Whoa….college life." If the lights and hoards of kids holding solo cups in front of the collegiate building wasn't enough confirmation that she was in the right place, then the train of frat boys and bikini clad women yelling 'PARTY!' at the top of their lungs as they drunkenly stumbled out of the building certainly was. One of her favorite songs blasted from the speakers inside, and immediately, the tension in her body melted away in the unconscious swing of her hips.

"I guess I needed this more than I thought," Mercedes chuckled to herself, unbuckling her seatbelt and checking her makeup in the rearview mirror before she headed in. She'd dressed to kill after leaving the studio this evening, clad in tight black leather pants and a corseted top that emphasized the true hourglass shape of her figure. Throwing on her matching blazer, Mercedes hopped out of the car and strut through the crowd in her stilettos, grabbing an unopened beer from a nearby serving table as she determinedly searched for her fiancée. The packed living room made the faces in the crowd indistinguishable. Coupled with Mercedes' height, she nearly lost hope of finding him without calling on her cell phone.

"Hey sexy mama!" greeted a tipsy Puck, collapsing on her shoulder. "Whenidya get here?"

A giggling brunette following behind him, equally as tipsy, fell over onto his back, bearing the weight of both of their bodies onto Mercedes' small frame.

"Puck, get off me! Where's Sam?" Mercedes demanded, shoving him and his companion backward. The girl stumbled into the far wall, creating a sizable crack in the paint from the impact of her head. She touched the back of her head, then the dent, stupefied until she took another swig from the red cup in her hands. Her eyelids lazily fluttered closed as she sipped, and her sniggering laughter returned as soon as the spiked punch entered her system.

"He's swingin' on that pole and makin' them dollas!" smiled a starry-eyed Puck, blinking rapidly to keep focus. "You don't know? He's famous now! Even more famouser than you!"

"What?!" Mercedes searched the crowd again, more anxiously than before. "Where is he? I told you to watch him, Puck!"

"Am I your stripper's keeper?" Puck snorted at his own lame joke, then gasped when Mercedes yanked his arm and dragged him through the dancing, sweaty crowd. "Relax Mother Goose, don't shit a golden egg. I'm sure he's just fine."

Mercedes stopped and turned, glaring at him. Puck's eyes widened in fear of the fire in her stare. Wisely, he threw up his hands and silently surrendered.

"I told you he would be nervous. I told you to take care of him. Instead, you leave him alone in a crowd of people he doesn't know to fend for himself," Mercedes accused through gritted teeth, poking Puck's chest with a daggered finger at every other word. "Now, he's probably been drinking to try to get over it and feel comfortable."

"Always worked for me," Puck mumbled under his breath, knocking the bottom of his beer bottle to get the last drop to land on his tongue. "Mercy…" She continued to curse Puck under her breath, slapping his hands away to resume her search of the crowd. "Mercedes!"

"WHAT?" she angrily spat, spinning around and moving in until their noses touched. Puck's bloodshot eyes and lazy smile only fueled her anger.

"Have I ever gotten Sam into anything stupid?" he asked innocently. At her incredulous scoff, he added, "Okay, so maybe I have. But has it ever hurt him?"

"No," Mercedes reluctantly answered, crossing her arms. "I just want to see him myself and make sure he's okay."

"Alright, alright my wittle love monkey," Puck pouted, squishing her cheeks until her lips poked out like his. "Let's go find your banana. His ass should be around here somewhere."

Puck stepped ahead of Mercedes and took the lead, pushing past the dancing bodies around them to guide her through the living room. A spot near the kitchen had a particularly large crowd of people huddled around it, whistling and hollering as they threw dollars toward a space illuminated by red strobe lights. Mercedes spotted the bright pink stripper pole bolted to the ceiling, marking the center of the crowd's circle, and felt her stomach churn. The distinctively repetitive chant of 'shake that ass, Trouty Mouth!" didn't help her anxiety.

Snatching her hand from Puck's grasp, she ran forward and shoved the people in her way aside until she could see what was going on. The sight made her blood run cold.

"See? I told you he's perfectly…" Puck ran into Mercedes' still frame, momentarily losing his balance. Regaining his footing, he took in the sight in front of them and sobered, gathering a moment of clarity long enough to register the look of horror on his friend's face. "Mercy? Please don't kill me? Or Sam? Or me, then Sam, then bring me back to life so you can kill me again?"

"Puck," Mercedes growled, too overwhelmed to waste any of her energy on him. "Shut up and step back."

Puck didn't need to be told twice. He jumped back and pushed others behind him to give Mercedes ample room. Sam, clearly drunk out of his mind, didn't notice the parting in the audience or his steaming fiancée.

"Samuel Blake Evans, get your ass off that pole!" Mercedes yelled over the blasting music, bringing his gyrating hips to a standstill. Maybe it was the sudden rush of wind from the opened door at the back of the house hitting his bare chest. Maybe it was the voice that wasn't his mother's calling his full name. Maybe it was the fact that he registered said person was Mercedes in the exact moment that a blonde woman in a bikini reached into his boxers with a sharpie in hand, poised to sign her name on his ink-ridden left testicle.

Whatever it was, Sam felt a shiver build from the base of his spine and grow until his shoulders shuddered. He spit out the straw leading to the beer keg above him and slowly slid down the pole, squeaking all the way as his calves rubbed against the metal, until his head hit the floor. Sam blinked quickly to clear his vision, then gave his angry, upside down woman what he hoped was an apologetic smile.

"Mercy!" he laughed, kicking his legs until he flipped over and landed on his belly. "Fuck, my nipples!"

A brunette girl in a gold g-string bikini, oblivious to Mercedes' presence or Sam's sputtering struggle to explain, ran up to him and stuck her hand down his boxers as he stood. "Sam, can I sign my name on your dick next since there's no more space anywhere else?"

"The HELL?!" Mercedes had to jump to snatch the tall girl's pixie cut. The girl gasped and grabbed the arm pulling her hair, then gulped when deadly brown eyes met hers and stilled. She wisely made the split second decision to drop her marker and take her hand off of Sam. Nearly manic, all Mercedes could growl was "_Run_, bitch."

Sam cringed as the girl tumbled over her feet in her haste, face planting the hardwood floor. A guy carrying a new beer keg over his shoulder took note of the fallen girl, then the murderous look in Mercedes' eyes, and walked backward in the same direction he came from. Aside from the growing pool of drool near her mouth and the slight rise and fall of her back, it only appeared as if she passed out. In true party fashion, everyone stepped over and around her, going about their business. Puck returned and raised his brows at the nearly naked girl on the floor, crouching down to check her pulse and sneak a peek behind the gold triangle covering her breast.

"Leave her, Puckerman," Mercedes demanded, never once looking away from Sam's blushing face. Feeling exposed, Sam covered his own nipples with his hands and wracked his brain for answers.

"Okay so, they have this really, really great rum punch..." he began, angling his head to the near empty bowl on the table to the right of him. "And it's fruity and a lot stronger than it tastes, so 'course, I had four cups. Then four cups kinda...became six?" Watery green eyes unintentionally crossed, and the blonde snorted a laugh at how silly he must've looked at that moment.

"Does it look like I'm laughing, Sam?" Mercedes barked sternly. "At _all?_"

"No, ma'am," Sam replied, shaking his head until the movement made his brain spin. "I was...I just..."

"You just what? Felt like stripping down to your underwear and having half naked girls sign your junk?" replied Mercedes, gathering his clothes from the floor and throwing them against his chest. She picked up the offending marker that the brunette had dropped, reading the label and gasping. "In _permanent ink_, Sam? Really?"

"But I was just..." She stormed off before Sam could finish explaining, He shoved a foot into one of the legs in his pants and headed after her, hopping on one foot as he tried to simultaneously dress himself and beat her to the door. "Mercy, wait!"

"What, Sam?" she demanded, spinning around before she reached for the doorknob. "What could you possibly say right now to keep me from leaving your ass here and going about my business?"

Sam stalled by jumping into the second leg of his jeans and zipping himself up, working through the alcohol induced fog clouding his thoughts to answer. "Um...I love you?"

"Bye!"

"No, wait!" Thankfully, the heavy drinking didn't affect his reflexes. His clammy hand latched onto her wrist, gently tugging her back. "No wait, that's not what I—It isn't what I meant. I mean, I mean that I love you, but I shouldn't have said that. That wasn't the right...words."

"You're babbling," Mercedes said wearily, but never moved to leave.

"I messed up. I'm messed up. I…." Sam slapped his forehead over and over, hoping to restart his brain. "You told me to make friends and I tried, but when I opened my mouth, everyone looked at me like I was some freaking alien! And then I ran out of things to talk about so I thought, why not have a drink so that I can talk about that? Then a beer or two later, this frat guy is chatting me up about how much tail he's getting and I told him that I was engaged and showed him the picture I have of you in my wallet. Here." Sam pat his body and spun around in a circle, chasing his back pocket until he found his wallet. He slid the photo from behind the plastic film and held it out in front of him. "And then he said, you landed gorgeous ass like that? Then I snatched up some punch so that I wouldn't say something stupid or hit him or something because he's a big dude, like _ginormous _big. Then some of his friends told me I couldn't keep up with you on the dance floor and I told them I used to strip. Some girls heard near the keg, shoved the straw in my mouth, asked me to show them a few moves and next thing I know..." He gestured to his bare chest and half-buckled jeans. "I'm nekkid, taking autographs on my balls. Mercy, I don't even remember how it got this far."

Mercedes stared at the picture for a long time before she took it from his hands. It was the same photo she'd shown to Unique, her and Sam smiling and wrapped up in each other. Her anger tapered off at the memory. "You were upside down on a pole with a girl's hand down your pants , not to mention how many signatures in places I can't see anymore, thank god." Mercedes groaned. "Why would you, of all things, take off your clothes and strip to try and get _friends_?"

"Because they said I couldn't move! That I couldn't keep up with you!" Sam emphatically yelled. "I can keep up! I wanted to prove that I could make friends on my own, without you or Puck or anyone else helping me and it _worked_! Babe, they were clapping and cheering for me and everything!"

"You think they _like_ you, Sam?! You were their piece of meat! You were their eye candy!" Mercedes screamed back, thankful that the blasting music drowned out their conversation. "If you weren't so drunk off your ass you would have realized that!"

"But..." Sam frowned deeply and glanced back to where he was a moment ago, tripping over his own feet. "They told me we were buds now. People put their numbers in my phone and said they wanted to hang out."

"You were naked! They were drunk! It's a powerful combination!" she yelled, feeling her anger returning. The confusion in his glassy, dilated eyes incensed her further, until she grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard, hoping to wake him up. "They _used _you, Sam! Those people aren't your friends. You were their intoxicated puppet, some plaything they could use to pass the time. They were laughing at you, Sam!"

" Intoxicated pupp-No!" Sam pulled away, stumbling backward. "You're just jealous because there's other people out there who love me and want to spend time with me like they want to spend time with you. You don't want to share."

Mercedes scoffed at the ridiculous accusation. "If you weren't so messed up, I would slap you, and god knows I'm tempted," she threatened slowly, letting every word sink in. "Maybe you didn't see the guys throwing dollars behind you and calling you a dirty whore, but I did. What friends do that, Sam? When have any of us ever done that to you? Look at yourself!" She gestured toward his bare chest, covered in signatures. Sam stared curiously at his own skin, poking and studying it as if it was foreign to him. Huffing, Mercedes yanked his hand and shoved his marked forearm in his face. "Did one of your _friends_ write this on you?"

Sam gulped and paled, reading the words _Reggie__'__s lil__' __bitch _in blue ink across his wrist followed by a telephone number. In that moment, synapses in his brain finally began to fire and register cohesive thoughts, and Sam was sober enough to remember the taunting voices in the background and hands ripping off his clothes. "Oh god..." Not again. it felt too familiar. It felt too much like his past, too much like Stallionz. He swore he'd never go back to revealing himself for crowds, yet there he was, at a party full of strangers, handing his dick out for signatures. He quickly pulled on his shirt, feeling his blush spread to the rest of his body. "Shit..."

"They were touching you all over, Sam," Mercedes said quietly, near tears. "You let them do whatever they wanted to places that I was only allowed to see. Why?"

"I didn't want to be your tag-along boyfriend for the rest of my life. I didn't want to embarrass you," Sam explained, feeling foolish for even confessing such a thing.

"Well congratulations, Sam," Mercedes sarcastically spat, clapping her hands twice. "You've epically failed."

Sam's shoulders bowed in as he bit his lip, wincing from her stinging words. "I got anxious. I did a really stupid thing. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what, Sam? Do you even know what you're sorry for?" she laughed humorlessly, massaging her temples. The blonde that cupped Sam on the pole crossed her line of vision, and Mercedes felt her pulse throb twice as fast. "God! You took off your clothes in front of them! You let some random chick touch you! How could you act so incredibly—"

"Stupid?" Sam supplied, tears tracking down his face. Mercedes saw his pain and closed her eyes, taking the deepest breath she could. "Yeah, I know. I'm dumb."

"Don't go on a pity party right now, I'm trying to be mad at you." But from her tone of voice, Mercedes was already weary of arguing. "Let's go to the car and go home. I can't think straight here."

Sam nodded, obediently following after her. His heart swelled with hope when she reached to take his hand, but he soon realized it was more out of sympathy and concern for his safety than forgiveness. His legs felt like Jell-O.

"Get in," Mercedes commanded, rolling her eyes as she opened his door and helped him into his seat. Once she was sure he was buckled in, she slammed the door closed as hard as she could, secretly delighting in her fiancé's pained screech.

"We should do this again sometime," Mercedes grinned wickedly, watching Sam clutch his ears and curl toward the window in pain. With a barely audible scoff, Mercedes put all of her frustrations into the gas pedal, speeding to her dorm in record time. Thankfully, the police sirens blaring behind them were too focused on shutting down the party full of underage drinkers to notice the traffic violation.

**O-O**

A/N: I really felt like updating for you guys, so while my beta is working her magic on the second half of this chapter, I've decided to give you the first part! The next one will be up as soon as it's back in my hands.

Also, January 28th marked two years since I've started this story. Crazy, right? Maybe you can help me commemorate two years of storytelling by leaving me a review? It would really warm my heart. Tell me your thoughts on this segment of the story so far. ...


	36. Chapter 34 For Better or Worse (2 of 2)

**I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. Hope you forgive me and enjoy! **

**O-O**

The exponentially louder than normal blaring of an alarm clock woke Sam early Sunday morning. Wincing from the pounding in his ears, he rolled over to slam the snooze button and return to sleep. Unluckily for him, his brain woke faster than his body did, and the force of dead limbs tumbling to the side knocked him off of his bed, headfirst into the pointed end of his night table.

The throbbing in his head doubled, and Sam took the time on his knees, cocooned in a tangled mass of comforters, to silently curse whomever was responsible for fermenting beverages and distributing them to the masses. No one should be this drunk ever in life.

"Fuck me!" he hissed, rubbing the growing bump on his forehead. When his limbs gained feeling and function, he slowly rolled onto his back, blowing his blonde bangs away from his face and squinting at the ceiling as he tried to remember what happened last night.

Unlike the blackouts in movies, Sam regained every memory with little effort. The images didn't make his stomach or his head feel any better.

"Mercedes...shit." Sam dared to peek between the sheets and lift his boxers. He groaned again, realizing the names and numbers written in various colors on his groin weren't a creation of his buzz-driven imagination. And they weren't just on his privates, either. Several shaky signatures decorated his chest and arms as well.

How could he let this happen? The things he allowed himself to do, to let his fiancée witness, were utterly shameful. His drunken, angry rant afterward did little to fix it.

And now, not only was Mercedes probably pissed beyond belief at what he'd done, but Sam had also managed to simultaneously embarrass himself in front of a very influential group of people. Jocks and cliques always seemed to be the understood popular kids somehow. Why was that? Who made that rule? From kindergarten to college, it was an unspoken understanding, and the excluded just followed along in silent obedience. Very few chose to challenge it, because those who rocked the boat and defied norms were outcast and marginalized.

Once upon a time in high school, he'd dwelled among the elite. His varsity jacket and winning all American appeal had labeled him before he had the chance to label himself. But soon, the rules of popularity became too confining, too one size fit all for Sam's liking. Popularity was a delicate, silken ensemble to wear—pretty, but a pain to maintain and hardly breathable. He was more the cotton type on the inside, a guy that valued comfort over keeping up appearances.

Glee club let him embrace his dorky, artistic side, his private self, and taught him to love all that made him different. Yet here he was in college, shucking and jiving to earn the praise of the very group that had rejected him.

The word of the day today on his calendar was paradoxical. How fitting.

Sam briefly considered checking Facebook and YouTube to see if there were any new videos of him in compromising positions, but knew he wouldn't be able to stomach seeing the truth replaying in front of him. Not yet, at least. The shame was too fresh.

He couldn't stomach anything right now. Not school, or struggling to fit in, or mending his relationship with the love of his life. The thought of it all at once made him feel just as defeated as he was before the party.

Perhaps even a bit...queasy?

"Definitely queasy," Sam cupped his mouth and violently kicked the prison of sheets from around his legs, knocking his knee on the metal frame of his bed in his scrambled haste for the bathroom. Sweaty, clawing hands blindly sought the doorknob in the dark, then the porcelain throne, and Sam flipped up the seat and bent his head over just as last night's nachos and Jell-O shots returned with a vengeance.

Vomit poured in chunks of red and brown from every open orifice on his face. He shuddered from the tingling of bile stinging his nostrils, then stretched a shaky hand up to retrieve a towel from the metal rack above him to wipe his face.

From the vile smell of heavy cologne, Sam was pretty sure it belonged to Puck, but the soft terrycloth fibers felt too good against his clammy skin to stop.

"Fuck. My. Life." He had an art history test bright and early Monday morning to study for, a graphic design project due on Tuesday that was still in its early stages, and the first day of his new job as a stagehand from seven to midnight running somewhere in between the two.

The party was an absolute bust. He made zero new friends, but probably provided complete strangers with enough material to create millions of embarrassing jokes about him for the rest of his college experience. His entire body felt like sumo wrestlers had used him for wrestling practice. The cheeks of his ass throbbed for reasons he'd dare not ponder at the moment.

And, worst of all, Mercedes probably wasn't speaking to him at the moment. In fact, he was afraid to call her. What would his little risqué striptease show do to her reputation? What the hell was he _thinking _when he climbed that pole? It certainly wasn't about her feelings. The chanting voices encouraging him to chug from the beer keg must've drowned out that little voice of reason that demanded he stop being a dumb ass. He should have just gone to her place, settled in bed with a good movie, and be the big spoon to her little one. Right now, that's all he wanted.

_Does she even want to marry me anymore? _As messed up as he was, as the situation was, Mercedes was all Sam could think about. He needed her hugs and the soft, gentle raking of her fingers through his hair. He needed her sage advice as she offered him the handy bottle of aspirin that she always kept in her purse. He needed her to rub his back and tell him that he was still loved. He needed to smell her, to press his face into her softness, and find himself again.

Maybe needing her so much was his problem. Maybe needing was his problem, period.

"Hey man, you alright?" Puck asked from the doorway. Sam's retching woke him up a bit earlier than he'd anticipated . He was just as pale and miserable looking, save for his ridiculously oversized shades and knowing smirk.

"Do I look alright?" moaned Sam, rolling his blood-shot eyes at his friend. Puck slammed a small pill bottle and a glass of water on the side of the sink. The dull thud of glass hitting linoleum nearly made Sam jump out of his skin.

"Here. These'll make you good as new. I have some coffee brewing in the kitchen when you come out." He told him, pointing with his thumb. The gurgling sounds and the rich aroma from the coffee pot pervaded the air.

"No thanks. The smell's too strong." Sam groaned in disgust, clutching his stomach from the thought alone. "Water's safe. No taste."

"Alright. Suit yourself, blondie," shrugged Puck. He paused just before stepping away from the door frame. "Mercy brought you here by herself, you know. I'm guessing she carried you up, since you were so blitzed last night. Just thought you should know."

Sam heaved the last of his stomach's contents before replying, "She did?" in a pressured, shaky breath.

"Yeah. I thought you guys were just like, normal couple together. You know, kissy faces and holding hands and stuff. But, she's like a friend too. Even when she saw you on that pole with a girl holding your nut in her hands, Mercedes stuck by you. You don't see that every day," Puck reflected with a frown, warring with his own guilt. "Look, she told me to look out for you and I didn't. I'm sorry for being my usual asshole-ish self and letting you fall like that. I messed up."

Sam waved his apology away. "No way, man. The only one that messed up is me. I'm old enough to take care of myself."

"True. But still..." Puck nodded, scratching his neck. "I'm sorry, dude." Apologies were still foreign territory for him, but seeing his innocent friend heaving in a toilet made him feel some kind of way. "Next time, it's you and me, alright?"

Sam managed a small smile, wiping the corner of his dry lips with Puck's towel. "Thanks, man. I appreciate that." he rasped, "But in all due respect, I don't think I'll be taking you up on that offer anytime soon. This is the second and last time that I get drunk. I thought what we had at Rachel's party was bad, but _man_." Sam pushed himself up to stand, grabbing the sink for balance. "College liquor is on another level."

"That's what all the newbies say." Puck chuckled, patting his friend's shoulder. "Once you get used to it, it won't be so bad. The first time is always the worst."

The blonde opened the pill bottle and popped two aspirin into his mouth, swallowing them dry. "Then I can say I've had the worst then, can't I? I'll just check 'drunk ass mess' off my college to do list." joked Sam, massaging the kinks out of his back before walking to the kitchen. "Now that my stomach's empty and I'm not seeing double, I might take you up on that coffee."

**O-O**

After his liquid breakfast, Sam spent the rest of the morning surfing the internet for ways to remove permanent marker from skin. He tried every ridiculous recommendation, from erosive mixtures like baking soda and salt with lemon juice to toothpaste and nail polish remover. With all of his homeopathic efforts combined, it took three days for the last of the markings on his skin to disappear and a full week for the redness and painful swelling in his private area to go down. On his first day at work, Sam lugged equipment around with a bow-legged waddle, rocking from one foot to the other like some old west cowboy at a showdown. One of his co-workers coined the nickname Yosemite Sam for him, laughing at how his awkward walk and the white Stetson hat he wore as part of his uniform made him look almost exactly like the cartoon character. Another co-worker offered to dye his hair red and suggested that he grow a mustache. His scowling refusal was expected, given the less than pleasant throb between his legs.

Finally on Sunday night, eight days after the incident, Sam felt well enough and brave enough to face Mercedes and attempt to apologize. He whipped up a healthy stack of cinnamon pancakes (with a few chocolate chips added to the batter since he planned on groveling) and made a stop at the flower shop before he arrived at her building.

He called and rang her apartment several times, but she refused to answer him. After ten minutes of trying to reach her, Sam almost decided to give up and try another way to reach her. His saving grace was a neighborly student tenant leaving the building. She was on her way out, dressed in jogging clothes, and spotted the apologetic bouquet of roses in his hands.

The tremendous size and color of the bouquet gave her pause, and after a second look and quick inspection, the woman correctly acknowledged him as Mercedes' boyfriend.

"Oh, honey…." Her voice was slightly deeper than expected, and her build a bit stockier with fewer curves, but Sam was too emotionally frazzled to overanalyze it. Mercedes' outright refusal to let him had torn his confidence to shreds. And now this stranger, with a frown of distaste decorating her fuchsia lips, made him second guess even entering the building and trying at all. All of a sudden, he felt ill prepared.

"What? Too much?" Sam held his gifts out with a defeated pout. "I thought it would be a good start. Was I wrong?"

"Let's hope for your sake that yellow roses are her favorite." The woman warned, holding the door open for him to enter. "Everyone knows that yellow roses mean friendship, and if I were you, I wouldn't be trying to get back into my girlfriend's good graces with a gesture that says you want to be seen as a _friend." _ The corners of her lips suddenly turned up and stretched across her cheeks in a kind smile. She offered her hand, as if she suddenly remembering her manners, and waited expectantly for him to respond. Sam accepted the gesture, albeit rather warily, and firmly shook. "I'm Unique, by the way. I've heard tons about you. Good luck to you, honey!" She said cheerily, waving and jogging away. The last bit of her thought escaped the spaces between her tightly locked teeth, just before she escaped Sam's earshot. "You're _definitely_ going to need it."

Sam thanked her with a kind smile and nod, pretending not to hear the last part, then groaned when he thought about how she might've heard of him. Was she a friend of Mercedes? Was she at the party? Or worse, one of the active participants in his little strip show?

He wracked his brain the entire ride up the elevator, but couldn't manage to place a 'Unique' anywhere amidst the host of names he'd scrubbed from his body. There were plenty of unusual names in various color inks, most he'd suspected were fake, but none resembling anything close to Unique. Something about scrubbing patches of his skin raw made him remember minor details like that.

The elevator doors opened to unnervingly silent halls. Taking a deep breath to rack up his courage, Sam stepped out and rolled his shoulders back before marching determinedly to her apartment. After another breath, he knocked on her door and waited, balancing his gifts in one hand as the other nervously ran through his hair.

"Who is it?" cried her sweet voice from the other side of the door.

"Mercy, it's me." His introduction was met with tense silence. "Baby, I'm sorry. Can we talk? Please?"

The door opened halfway, enough to reveal her annoyed face and crossed arms. "First, you royally screw up. Then, you decide to ignore me and don't call me for a week. What makes you think I want to talk to you?" she angrily asked, glaring hard enough to make his knees quiver, "Would you talk to you right now, Sam? Honestly?"

His shamed blush gave his answer. "I brought peace offerings," he offered meekly, holding the large bouquet of yellow roses and box of food out in front of him for her to take. "I know it's not enough, but I was hoping that it could be a start."

Mercedes frowned at the gifts, but opened her door a bit wider, accepting them with a look of wry suspicion. "A start to what?" she asked less harshly, sniffing the flowers as she placed the container of food on the small table near the door. The bouquet had to hold at least three dozen, if not more, of her favorites.

"A start of my promise to you. I told you that I'd buy you yellow roses every day and that you'd always smile with me. The day I gave you your ring and held you in my arms, I promised you that." The mention of the ring and their special night together after the assault was a low blow, but he was a desperate man with too much at stake to play fair. "And my special pancakes always seem to comfort you when you're stressed. I was hoping that this would, you know, set us up to have a healthy conversation...without alcohol involved."

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Sam. You're grown. If you want to drink and make a fool of yourself, that's your prerogative," Mercedes answered coldly.

"I know that," replied Sam, stepping closer. "But, I also know that when you plan on marrying someone, you give up all the selfish 'I' decisions you usually make and do things that will reflect well on the 'we'. _We _matters a lot to me." He had counseling to credit for that particular insight. "What I do effects you and changes how other people see you. I didn't just embarrass myself. I embarrassed you and I'm so sorry." Sam instinctively reached for her hand, but paused before they could touch, hesitating in fear of moving too fast and pushing her away. His fingers curled into a fist instead. "Just..._please._"

Mercedes took several quiet moments to consider his plea, running her fingers along her flowers' soft petals as she thought. "If I let you in and we talk," she gently replied, filling the gaping silence between them, "do you promise to be honest with me and tell me everything?"

"Ask me anything and I'll tell you, Mercy," Sam promised. He took a chance and stole her hand away from the flowers to link his pinky with hers. "Ask me."

A pained, half-hearted chuckle left her lips. "Quoting from my favorite movie? The one you used to propose to me? That's even lower than the pancakes and flowers." Mercedes commented, eyes glued to her feet. Sam gently cupped her chin and lifted her gaze back to his own.

"I'm not just saying that. You can trust me." he promised, and the sincerity swimming in his eyes served well in convincing her. A spark of electric current crackled between them, zipping through her veins like they were made of live wire, and for a moment, her stoic mask cracked and gave way to longing.

"How do you know I want to talk?" she asked him, pulling out of his grasp with a quick lift of her chin. She couldn't think straight when he touched her so familiarly.

"I don't." He shrugged, awkwardly busying his freed hand in his hair instead. "I'm just hoping that you will. I'm hoping that you've missed me all week as much as I've missed you. I'm hoping that you can find some room in your heart to let me back in and give me another chance."

If he only knew. She'd missed Sam from the moment she dropped him off at his apartment that night, reeking of sweat and heavy liquor. How sickening was that? He was at his absolute worst, couldn't even stand up on his own without her help, and her heart had somehow found a way to circumvent reason and forgive him for his stupidity. Love made absolutely no sense sometimes. "Well, I haven't missed you. Not at all," Mercedes insisted, but the protest sounded shallow, even to her own ears.

Sam smirked at her stubbornness, reading between the lines. "Yeah? Then why are you wearing my sweatshirt?"

Mercedes glanced down at her attire, eyes wide in shock as if she'd just remembered putting it on. Her mouth opened and shut several times as she self-consciously tugged at her sleeves. "My apartment was cold."

"Of course it was," Sam smiled warmly, knowingly. It was nice to see her as off-kilter as he was, if only for a moment. "LA does have its chilly days, doesn't it?"

Mercedes hummed in agreement, biting her lip to suppress her growing smile as she looked over his attire. "That explains your turtleneck, then." She commented, nodding toward his attire.

Sam pulled at his collar with a sheepish smirk, grazing a blotch of red skin on his neck that was still sore from the permanent ink removal process. "I, uh...I have extra sensitive skin? I think I have that Michael Jackson disease. What's it called? The one that starts with a V and sounds like vertigo. Vita-something or other."

"It's called Vitiligo, and I don't think you had enough melanin to start with to pull that off." She answered. Subtle hints of a smile rested on the wrinkles near each corner of her mouth. "I think your problem is your skin's not sensitive enough…at least not enough to stop you from swinging around half naked on metal poles the color of Pepto- Bismol."

"Well, that would explain why the bubblies in my gut went away after twerking on it." he replied, and their gazes locked and held for several moments.

The two shared a mirth filled look that broke the tension, and the resulting laughter echoed throughout the empty hallway. The understanding between them didn't come solely from the eight days they'd spent hashing out their emotions, or from their tumultuous year as a couple. Rather, the years of friendship prior to both of these things made forgiveness a practice, and the Sam and Mercedes that started out as best friends fell back into the familiar routine.

"I really am sorry, you know," Sam repeated as their laughter died down, leaning his head against the doorframe. "I was really dumb and drunk and everything I'm usually not. I wish I could undo it and take it all back."

"I know," sighed Mercedes, mirroring his posture. "And I wasn't as angry as I looked that night, just so you know. Scared and disappointed, maybe. Probably a bit jealous, I don't know." Sam took a chance and reached out to lace their fingers together. The touch barely fed their hunger for connection. Mercedes was ravenous for intimate touch after a week without him, and leaned in to rest her forehead against his. "You're a real idiot sometimes, Sam Evans," she whispered.

"As long as I'm still your idiot." Sam closed his eyes and sighed, brushing his nose across hers, and his heart skipped beats each time their skin made contact.

She tilted her head, and the sides of their noses brushed together as she spoke over his lips."Why did you drink so much, babe?"

"People make really dumb decisions when they're insecure, Mercy," Sam confessed, gently squeezing her hand. It was out. He'd told the truth. Would she think he was weak now, for confessing something so silly?

His irregular heartbeat ceased when he felt her breath catch, and the organ plummeted into his stomach when he felt her step away. One lid opened before the other, braving a peek at her presumed disappointment in him, her judging eyes. To Sam's surprise, the chocolate brown stare that greeted him was filled to the brim with loving concern and nothing more. Almost four years of knowing her, of entrusting her with his fragile ego, and Mercedes still managed to blow him away with new revelations.

"What are you insecure about?" she asked gently. Sam's body tensed and straightened, and when he glanced behind him at their surroundings, Mercedes realized their utter lack of privacy.

"Come in. Sit and eat pancakes with me and we can talk after. This container feels way too heavy to feed just one person, anyway." Mercedes pulled him into her apartment, and their fingers remained tightly knit as she closed the door behind them.

**O-O**

The couple made their way to the kitchen, silently fluttering about the small space as they had for many months of mornings. Mercedes took two plates and glasses from the kitchen cabinet as Sam took the jugs of milk and orange juice from the fridge, placing them next to the container of pancakes on the counter. They set their tasks next to each other and, in perfect unison, exchanged half of their items to finish preparing breakfast. Sam filled the glasses—milk for him and juice for her— while Mercedes divided the pancakes into two even stacks of four on each plate. She poured an abundance of maple syrup over each, taking care to pool a little extra near the base of Sam's plate for dipping. Sam, observing her as she worked, smiled faintly at the gesture. He was always amazed by how much she knew about him, down to the tiniest of quirks. No one, not even his own parents, had stored as much about him to memory as Mercedes had.

As he gathered their cutlery from the dishwasher, Mercedes reached in the drawer beside her for a larger knife. A small laugh escaped Sam's lips when he realized that she was cutting his pancakes into neat triangles, just the way he liked it. "Wow, Mercy."

"What?" asked Mercedes, tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth as she made her precise slices.

"Nothing," Sam replied with a shake of his head. "Just the little stuff you do when I don't ask you to."

Frowning at his answer, Mercedes stilled and studied her handiwork, realizing only then that she'd cut up Sam's food for him without his permission. "Oh. Does that bother you? I know sometimes I can be a bit….motherly. I don't mean anything by it." she admitted apologetically, knowing how overbearing her actions could appear.

"No, it's fine," Sam insisted. "I like it. It doesn't't feel motherly, just...natural, like you know me better than I know myself sometimes. It's nice."

She smiled faintly at the compliment. "Oh, okay. I guess, sometimes, I feel like I do. Is that weird?"

"No weirder than me putting chocolate chips in your cinnamon pancakes before I knew it was your time of the month." Sam brought both of their plates to the table, leaving a slightly stunned Mercedes to carry the glasses.

"How do you know it's my time of the month? And you better not say it's because of what happened last week at the party. Trust me, you didn't't see even _half_ of how angry I could've gotten."

"Well, when you yanked that girl down to your level and made her trip over her own feet, I did have my suspicions." Mercedes side-eyed the audacious comment, making Sam grin. "But when your eyes cut me down to size, I knew I caused that, not PMS."

"Exactly." She answered, setting their glasses down to gently poke his arm. Sam stood to pull out her chair, easing her toward the table once she was seated. She thanked him with a gentle squeeze to his hand as he sat, then the two said a silent prayer over their food before digging in. When the fluffy chocolate cinnamon concoction melted on Mercedes' tongue, she moaned and licked the tines of her fork, then licked away any residual crumbs lingering on her lower lip. Sam managed to look away before she could catch him staring, and subtly reached down to adjust the mounting pressure in his boxers. "PMS may have helped a little. When she put her hand in your pants, I snatched her so hard that my wrist almost snapped. I think I might've given her a bald spot."

Sam nearly choked, laughing with his mouth full. "I hear they make Rogaine for women now. Besides, she didn't ask if she could touch me. She just reached in and took what she wanted without my permission."

"Why do you think I snatched her? She had no right," Mercedes grumbled, sipping her juice.

"So you were defending me?"

Mercedes shrugged, stuffing her mouth with more food so she didn't have to answer. Sam smiled knowingly as he drank his milk, winking in her direction when she looked his way. "My hero. Valiant knight, you have protected my virginity."

"Virginity?" she scoffed, "Please..." Mercedes shook her head disapprovingly, but even when she glanced down at her plate and her hair fell across the side of her face, Sam could still see the notable signs of a smile. It felt good to joke with her again, to say whatever comes to mind without over thinking it. Somehow, in his search for friendship, he'd managed to forget the one friend waiting at home that mattered most to him. _Never again, _he vowed with a sip of his milk, enjoying her peaceful countenance.

The couple finished dining in companionable silence, clearing their plates and draining their glasses until their bellies were contentedly full. Sam took her plate and glass before she could stand, motioning with his head for her to sit on the couch as he took care of the dishes.

"Wow, someone must be really sorry," Mercedes observed aloud, speaking in his direction as she watched him clear the full sink. "Domestic labor? From the guy whose dirty clothes take up more space on the bed than he does?"

"I guess a swift smack on the ass is all I needed to fly right," joked Sam, pouring soap onto the sponge. The dishes were washed, dried and stacked together in a flash. Sam wiped down the counter once all of the clean dishes were put away in their appropriate cupboards. The minor task brought up a week's worth of aches and pains all at once, prickling his joints like pins and needles. His arms extended over his head, reaching toward the sky as he arched his back and twisted his torso to relieve the tension. Sam sighed in relief when his joints cracked and popped back to life.

Mercedes watched him the entire time, secretly enjoying the pale, muscled expanse of stomach exposed as he moved about. "Swift smack on your ass. I'll remember that."

The awkwardness of the day returned when Sam walked over to sit on the couch. His eyes flitted back and forth between Mercedes's arms and the empty space across from her. Hesitant, Sam decided on the safer choice, squatting slowly into the space farthest away from her. The pain of being so far away from her briefly reflected in his gaze, but he tried his best to cover it with a small smirk in her direction, hoping his weakness wouldn't show.

But the truth of him always showed when he was around her. The false smile was as painful for Mercedes to accept as it was for Sam to bear.

It had been eight days. She'd spent an entire week without seeing or speaking to her best friend. Even the short distance between their seats felt like an eternity.

"Sam, come here," she ordered, stretching her arm until her fingers could curl around a bicep. Sam quickly shifted over and rested his head against her shoulder, pressing his nose against the crook of her neck as she wrapped him in a hug. Mercedes squeezed his shoulders and pulled him forward as she leaned back, and the two rested in their solid embrace against the decorative pillows. Her fingers gently stroked his arm, and Sam felt all of the remaining tension seep through his skin and leave his body.

"I've missed you so much," Sam confessed, squeezing her waist. Her fingers moved up to slide through his hair and scratch his scalp. A soft kiss graced his forehead.

"I've missed you too. It's been a whole week." Mercedes pressed another kiss into his hair, lingering a moment to run her lips across the silken strands. She would kiss him there after they made love, when their bodies were as close as their spirits and he could trust her with his secrets.

"And I've missed this." Sam looked up, nudging the wrist of her stroking hand with his nose. "You, touching me and givin' me kisses. Eight days without this is too long."

"And who's fault is that, babe?" Mercedes chastised gently, walking her fingers down the center line of his face until she could tap his nose. "You pulled away. I never told you that you couldn't come see me."

"You were angry. I didn't want to assume," Sam answered. His eyes closed when she cupped his cheek. "I thought you hated me."

Mercedes turned his face until his chin rested between her breasts. The pads of her thumbs gently strummed against his eyelids until they opened up again. And when they did, the fear reflected in the barest of gazes tore her heart in two. "I can't _hate _you, Sam. I can never hate you." Her words were timely and welcomed. Mercedes felt the exact moment he took breath again. "I love you way too much to ever hate you. The worst I could ever do is be disappointed in you. And I won't lie, I was," Mercedes replied honestly. "But it doesn't mean that I want you to fall off the face of the earth and disappear forever."

"I wanted space for me, too. Needed to get my thoughts together, you know? I hate disappointing people I care about. It cripples me." Sam walked his fingers up the still arm resting beside him, from her shoulder to her upturned palm until he could align their hands. He stretched their arms out beside them, observing all of their differences. "You have really tiny hands."

Mercedes chuckled beneath him, watching as he laced his fingers with hers. "Duh, I'm a tiny person."

"Doesn't automatically mean that you'd have tiny hands, though. I know really tall people with the tiniest hands. It's so weird. It's like God ran out of matching parts and gave them hands from the lost and found box in heaven. " Sam mused. He brought their hands to his lips, kissing the place where their palms touched, and added, "I heard people with tiny hands have the biggest hearts."

"Did you get that off the internet, where all of your brilliant information comes from?" Mercedes joked softly, smiling in amusement.

"Yes." Sam looked up, meeting her eyes and smiling adorably. "But in my limited experience with tiny-handed people, I'd say that's pretty true."

Mercedes grinned and pushed back his bangs, wanting to see more of his eyes. "Your hands are huge. By your logic, does that mean you have a tiny heart?"

His smile softened. "Maybe, if selfishness makes your heart tiny."

"Drinking a little too much and acting a fool to get people to see you makes you selfish person? How?" Mercedes asked, growing concerned. She could see and feel the moment Sam closed up again, drawing into himself like he did before the incident. Most people would take the hint and change the course of conversation, maybe even stop speaking altogether.

Thank god she understood him. Mercedes knew the small talk allowed him to work out his issues in a way that felt safe. But for some reason, whatever was bothering him now had shamed him into silence. He needed her to dig, to pursue the emotion. Big hearts like Sam needed to be reminded that they were worth the chase from time to time.

Desperate to reach him again, she tried a different approach. "You know, I never told you why I was working so hard in the studio. It's not just because of the single or the demands from the label."

"Yeah?" The confession concerned him enough to coerce speech, shifting the focus to something he cared about more than himself—the heart steadily beating against his ear, belonging to the woman he loved most. "What else is going on, babe?"

Mercedes sighed and squirmed, uncomfortable with what she was about to share. "You know that my dad's not really on board with my music career, right?" Sam nodded. "Well, I had a really heated conversation with him after he helped me move on campus. I had to get a pretty big loan to cover my college expenses because he refused to shell out any money on a 'worthless career choice'. Mom is the one that's been sending me money for school. He thinks I'm gonna fail out here."

Sam sat up, shocked by Mr. Jones' uncharacteristic insensitivity. "He said that to you? Seriously?!"

Mercedes nodded, sliding further down into couch. "If my record's not a success...if this single isn't a hit, then I'll just be proving him right. I can't do that. I want him to know that I can be successful and achieve great things without his help. I've been talking about a music career for years now, but he still doesn't understand how much this means to me."

"And you think working long hours and singing until you're hoarse is gonna prove that?" Sam replied, voice heavy with pity. "_Killing _yourself is gonna prove that?"

When she heard it spelled out like that, her actions did seem ridiculous. "I'm not lazy about my dream, Sam. I'm gonna do something with my life."

"Mercy, no one believes that more than me. Mr. Jones is cool and all, but if he doesn't see how amazing you are and how much you care about music, then forget him and chase that dream by yourself. I'm your man and the biggest fan in your fandom. Triple platinum or selling copies out of the trunk of your car, I'm with you through all of it, pushing you until you make it. You hear me, lady? And trust me, you definitely will make it."

His unshakable confidence awed her and brought her to tears. "Okay." She whispered timidly, nodding. "I trust you."

Forgetting his previous apprehension about moving too fast, Sam crawled up and kissed her, pressing his body against hers as much as their position would allow. "Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? You didn't have to go through that alone," he asked, drying her cheeks with soft swipes of his thumb.

Mercedes sniffled and replied, "For the same reason I think you didn't tell me about your issues. I was trying to protect you and handle it myself. I didn't want you to know that I wasn't okay."

Sam deflated in realization. "But we don't have to do that anymore..."

"Because we're in this together and we're not alone anymore." Mercedes smiled and nodded. "We're caretakers, you and me. We're so used to giving all of ourselves for other people and never expecting anything in return. Having someone that's concerned about us, someone to answer to….it's new, right? Even scary sometimes. But it doesn't mean that it's a bad thing. I'm sorry I didn't share before. I feel a lot better now that I've been honest with you. Will you let me in, too? Will you tell me what's bothering you?"

"Wait...did you just pull some reverse psychology mess on me?" Sam laughed incredulously, feeling decidedly off-balance after her speech. She was right, _too _right if that were at all possible. Sam could take care of his siblings for ten more summers if he had to, manage school and handle his own finances without any help. Opening up to Mercedes meant dividing up the reins over his life and allowing her to help him steer. Loving was simple for him. Being loved was its own journey.

"No." Mercedes replied, gravely serious. "I just realized what a hypocrite I'd be if I demanded honesty from you and couldn't promise the same in return." Mercedes removed his hands from her cheeks and joined them in front of her mouth, then gently kissed across the bridge of fingertips they formed, until they bowed in and curled underneath her chin. "Sharing our problems with another person is hard for both of us. But you're not just another person to me, Sam. If we're serious about being together and getting married, I can't just be another person to you either."

"I am serious," Sam insisted, pressing his forehead to hers. "I've never been this serious before in my life."

"Then _talk _to me," pleaded Mercedes, "Just like you used to before we got engaged or started dating. I'm still the girl who guards your secrets with her life. I'm still that girl. We're friends first."

Sam groaned and fell into her chest. He grew quiet and still, trying to figure out the conflicting emotions within him well enough to explain them. "It's not..." Sam sighed and hummed, "it's not _you_."

"Then what is it?" she asked softly, gently smoothing the hair near his temple. Her tone was patient and understanding, relaxing him even more than her caresses.

"I don't fit in here, Mercy. It doesn't feel like I belong." Sam said sadly. "What you said when you texted Puck...it's true."

Mercedes tensed, halting her strokes. "I didn't mean for you to see that. I was trying to help, I swear."

"I know," Sam assured her, "You were only saying what I've been thinking for a while. Honestly, I would've felt weird about going to that party even if I didn't read your text. But knowing you and Puck thought the same thing, that I would mess it up for myself somehow...it made me even angrier at myself for being so awkward."

Sam's words suffocated her. "Sam, I'm so sorry. I just wanted Puck to watch out for you, to help you find your way—"

"I tried being the opposite of myself and it backfired." sighed Sam, "That wasn't your fault. I've been feeling this way for a while. Dr. Taylor said that I have 'unrealistic ideals of my reality' or whatever. I imagine myself being cool and popular and equate that with drinking and acting like an ass, thinking that somehow it will hide how small and dumb I feel. But it didn't. I just looked even dumber than I usually do."

"Sam, you are far from dumb." Mercedes cradled his face, forcing him to look at her. "You're afraid to show people who you really are because you're scared that they'll reject you, and I honestly can't figure out why. You're awesome! And I'm not just saying that because I'm wearing your ring." Sam smiled at that. "Didn't glee club teach you that? Didn't our entire relationship teach you that? You got awesome friends and an even more awesome girlfriend to love you, just by just being yourself. Who keeps telling you that you're not enough?"

Sam's looked down, shamed. "Me. I keep telling myself that."

"Please stop," Mercedes begged, in the sweetest voice. "And please stop thinking that perfect is gonna make everything better. Remember our day in the choir room, when you told me that you loved my scars because it meant that I wasn't perfect? You told me my flaws were beautiful. I meant it when I said it back to you. You're awkward sometimes and tell the corniest jokes, but I think it's charming. And maybe you do things that aren't the best ideas in the world..."

"Like doing a strip tease upside down on a pole and sucking beer from a keg while people graffiti my body?" Sam answered, chuckling at the ridiculous scenario. "Man, that was really dumb."

"It really was." Mercedes laughed, tapping his nose. "And you know what? It was a mistake. I'm told you're allowed a few of those in your lifetime. Own it, laugh about it, and promise me that you'll _never_ do it again."

"I will _never_ do that again," Sam vowed, imitating her voice with a chuckle, "Not unless I'm with friends in a safe place and you're the one touching my junk."

"Damn straight!" exclaimed Mercedes, sliding her hands down his back to possessively cup his bottom. "Promise kiss?"

Sam leaned up and pressed his lips to hers, cupping her neck to pull her in and deepen the kiss. "I promise, princess. Never again." Sam told her as they parted, meaning every word.

"Good." Mercedes smiled, utterly relieved. "Now, about the whole 'getting friends' dilemma..."

"Oh lord, please tell me you're not gonna set me up on some blind play date," groaned Sam, pouting. "I know how you're mind works, woman. While I appreciate the help, I think it would be best if I navigate that on my own."

"I wasn't going to set you up, I was just gonna make suggestions!" Mercedes whined, crossing off the idea of a 'friend meet-up' on her mental list of ideas. "Were you still thinking about joining a club? Maybe a sport? You're great at sports! And, you don't even have to join one on campus! That way, if you screw up, you can run away and never see those people again!" she sang brightly, pleased by her genius logic.

"Gee, thanks. I feel so encouraged." Sam deadpanned, throwing an arm across his eyes. "I'm not gonna give myself the option to run, though. If I'm gonna face a fear, I might as well do it head on, right?"

Mercedes beamed with pride and nodded. "That's my guy. Fear is bullshit."

"Fear is utter bullshit." Sam agreed, reaching up to tap her nose. "You know what? I'm gonna check out that pottery sculpture class thing I was telling you about." Sam sat up, facing her. "And you know what else?"

Mercedes bounced excitedly in her seat as he stood. "What?"

"I'm gonna try new things, even if it scares me. I'm gonna venture these shark infested college waters without alcohol or getting naked! I will resist the urge to strip for other people's pleasure!" Sam declared. "I'm an artistic being, aren't I? So I'm gonna make art, damn it! I'm gonna create shit with clay! I'm gonna walk up to people and do whatever celebrity impersonation I feel like! And if they don't like it...well, screw them!"

"Yes!" Mercedes clapped, jumping up and into his arms. "God, that's sexy!"

Sam's eyebrows rose, then fell as his eyes darkened. The toothy smile on his face gave way to a naughty grin. "Make-up apology sex, then?" Sam softly suggested, teasing the sensitive spot on her neck with barely-there kisses.

Mercedes tipped her head and moaned, grabbing his hair. "Can't. Period." Mercedes breathed, groaning when his arms tightened around her waist, pressing her chest intimately against his. "Ask me again on Tuesday. And_ please_ stop kissing my spot like that."

"Why?" Sam whispered, cruelly drawing circles in the equally sensitive dip in her back as he nibbled her skin. She arched into him and whimpered, cursing under her breath. "No sex doesn't mean I can't watch you cum for me. I still think that counts."

"_Sam,_" she warned, her breaths growing shallower as Sam's fingers danced across her ribs and slid up to pinch a nipple. "It doesn't count for me. It's not what I want."

"Fine." Sam relented with a pout, removing his hands. "Make-up cuddles, then?"

The happy sigh that escaped her—long and well overdue—warmed her insides. "I thought you'd never ask." She took his hand and pulled him to the bedroom. "You can watch _Moulin Rouge _with me. I need a good cry."

"Aw, man! Is that the one where the girl dies in the end because she has TB?" Sam rolled his eyes. "The dude tells us in the beginning that she's going to die, and you _still _cry every time. I will never understand chick flicks."

"It's one of my time of the month movies. Thank the Lord I'm not making you watch _Beaches_. I'd be in a mess of tears." She tugged his arm, laughing when he stubbornly rooted his feet outside of the bedroom door. "C'mon, silly."

Sam pretended to drag his steps as he followed behind her. "Okay. But remember, I'm only doing this for you."

Six hours later, Sam and Mercedes sat huddled together under a large blanket, crying as Bette Midler waved goodbye to her deceased best friend's spirit as she crooned _Glory of Love_.

"Y-you didn't te-tell me she was gonna d-die like that, Mercy." Sam grabbed a tissue from the box in between them and blew his nose. "Damn it, you should have warned me!"

"I did warn you!" Mercedes tearily insisted, sniffling as she grabbed a tissue to dab her eyes. "You didn't believe me!"

"Well, we should have stopped at the second movie." Sam sniffled, tossing the empty dvd case of _My Sister__'__s Keeper_ on the floor, atop the growing pile of Mercedes' time of the month films. "First, the sister dying of cancer, and now this." Mercedes gave his shoulders a reassuring hug, snuggling against his chest as the credits rolled. Sam took the remote and stopped the film, wiping his tears on his sleeve.

"One more?" begged Mercedes, tugging his collar until she could mesmerize him with her doe eyes. "Please? For me? I'm in pain."

Against his better judgment, Sam nodded and allowed her to pick another film. He read the cover and groaned at the choice, anticipating the damage it would do to his feelings, before popping it in.

"Chick flicks, cuddling, and no sex afterwards." Sam smiled, shaking his head. "Is this what the marriage vows mean when it says 'for better or worse'?"

Mercedes laughed and slapped his chest. "Just shut up and watch the movie with me, husband." She teased, nodding toward the menu screen for _The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants_. "I promise you won't cry too much with this one."

"That's probably a major lie." Sam pulled her closer, resting his chin on top of her head. She kissed his chest, right beside where his heart rested. He scooted closer and nuzzled her forehead, then tapped her lips. She looked up curiously, then smiled when he pointed to his chest again, right above where his heart rested. Two kisses warmed his beating heart, and for a moment, Mercedes swore his pulse doubled in speed against her mouth.

"You know," she began, sliding her hand underneath his cotton shirt to warm her cold hands with his body heat. "I heard somewhere that people with really big hands have the biggest hearts."

"Damn that internet. Miseducating our youth." His hand felt for hers above his shirt, stilling her touches. "Hey."

"Yeah?" Movie forgotten, her hand slid from underneath his to toy with his nipple, futilely attempting to tickle him. Mirth danced in her eyes, and Sam found the sight as enchanting as the first time he made her laugh. Her caresses aroused more than tickled, but he appreciated her effort.

Sam convinced himself that his chuckle was for her sake, not because she'd actually wormed her way through the defenses around his heart and managed to alleviate the pain. Wallowing in self-pity was his old way of coping. Mercedes' playful mood proved to be a better remedy.

"Never stop loving me like you do, okay?" Her teasing stopped, and the glint in her eye disappeared in favor of an emotion far weightier and heartwarming than simple joy. Rapture? Contentment, maybe? Sam was still working on finding the right words to describe his world.

"Don't worry, I won't. Not ever, I promise." And though he didn't realize it then, Mercedes had branded her promise on every throbbing millimeter of her veins until the words seeped into her bloodstream. Whatever it took, she fully intended to keep that promise— with everything in her, for the rest of her life.

**O-O**

Their spring semester ended on a higher note, filled with an abundance of good news. All finals were passed with flying colors, GPAs remained elevated and intact, and Sam finally decided to sign up for the sculpture classes his co-worker recommended. In between his newfound clay work at the art studio and his job working for Faith, he had plenty to keep him busy. The activity boosted his confidence level and his circle of friends, and Mercedes took care to mention each time she spotted a new smile on his face. So far, the average daily count was around fifteen or so.

To celebrate his newfound sense of self, his fiancée decided to take him out for a night on the town, complete with a romantic dinner and plenty of dancing. She made playful inquiries about his 'mysterious celebrity boss' throughout the course of the evening, but Sam carefully dodged every question regarding the artist he was working for with equally playful answers and distracting kisses.

Before curiosity could get the better of her, DMC Records called several days later to praise Mercedes on her body of work. Her sound board and managers insisted on an album release for early October. The news had been an answered prayer, and Mercedes found herself thanking God for every obstacle that shaped her and molded her for that moment. She felt ready, both professionally and personally, for this next step in her life, and Sam counted least twenty new smiles a day after the phone call.

Unfortunately, album release dates meant promotional gigs and performance dates that squeezed their way into the little spaces of time she had as a student, which meant less time for the couple to spend together. This time, however, both parties were equally as busy and content with their individual projects. They hardly missed the other's absence.

Sam left for Kentucky the day after his last final to spend time with his family before heading to Ohio. He'd purchased his plane tickets weeks in advance, homesick beyond belief, and offered to buy Mercedes' tickets on several occasions. She thought he was showing off because of the regular hefty paycheck he was receiving, but truthfully, it was Sam's sly attempt at making sure she didn't forget about coming to see him graduate. Of course, he didn't say the word _graduation _when he'd offered. Foolish pride kept him from reminding her outright, since he'd initially made such a fuss about avoiding it. He was hoping that she'd read between the lines and get the hint. She was an expert at decoding his little quirks, and Sam loved having someone willing to put so much work into understanding him.

In some ways, he still felt that he was walking for her. Passing high school was all that used to matter to him, especially after the grueling work schedule he'd had last summer, but the thought of him in cap and gown seemed to put a special sparkle in her eye. After royally screwing up at the frat party, he wanted to make sure that she'd always look at him that way, like he was her personal champion.

Plus, his parents and siblings seemed just as eager to see him walk for his diploma. His grandparents in Tennessee were going to watch him via video chat and share it with their friends, and they didn't even know what video chat was. His grandfather only touched technology when it was completely and _direly_ necessary. Since the both of them only made it as far as the sixth grade, Sam knew that it would mean the world to them to see him shake Figgins' hand and take his diploma. It was a win-win.

**O-O**

As soon as Mercedes dropped Sam off at the airport, she immediately returned to the studio to work on her promotional tour. College attire of sweatpants and sloppy buns transformed into sequined gowns and red-carpet ready curls overnight. Jewelry and designer shoes were thrown at her feet, free of charge. People higher up in the label, including Mr. Simmons himself, came out to meet her and invited their celebrity friends to her shows. All forms of dairy were eliminated from her diet in preparation for her back to back performances, and a small team of makeup artists and fashion advisors accompanied her on the road to each gig.

At first, it was overwhelming. The flashing camera lights hurt her eyes and the grueling ninety hour workweek ran her body ragged. Then, after her twelfth or so performance, hearing the rave reviews from PR execs and other artists in the business made it became thrilling. By her third week on the road, Mercedes couldn't imagine being anywhere else, doing anything else, but entertaining crowds of fans.

"Girl, you should've seen me! I was fire! They were lapping up my lyrics like thirsty refugees at an oasis, I swear it!" she exclaimed into her phone, pressing it against her shoulder with her cheek as she rolled down her stockings in the bathroom. Her name wasn't big enough to demand dressing rooms, yet.

"I bet," Tina said, undressing in a similar way on the other end after a date night with Mike's family. "Which one did you choose as your single again?"

"It's called _Brighter Day_, and honestly, I'm surprised the label picked that one," admitted Mercedes, stepping out of her heels and into her Jordans. "It's a gospel type song, but with a neo-soul edge that's really popular nowadays. The album is R&B to be honest, but this song has the potential to appeal to everyone." Just then, she heard the faint cheers of the intimate audience, demanding an encore from the new artist. "Tina, can you hear them? They want me to sing again!"

"That's great!" cheered Tina, "Too bad, though. I guess they'll just have to wait and follow you to your next show."

"What are you talking about?" Mercedes stepped out of the bathroom stall and set her phone to speaker, resting it on the counter as she slipped on a plain red blouse and her leather jacket. "I've never performed in my regular clothes, but I'll give my fans what they want if they're asking for me, makeup or no makeup," she told Tina, pulling out a wet cloth to wipe away any traces of smeared eyeliner. "Ugh, I always cry when I do my cover of _I will always love you_ and make myself look like a raccoon."

"I guess if it doesn't run you too late." Tina conceded, ignoring her last comment. "What time does your flight leave tonight?"

"What flight?" Mercedes chuckled, reapplying the fire engine red color to her lips. "I have a flight?"

"Your flight home, silly! Sam said you bought your ticket for tonight."

Mercedes had just slid a finger in her mouth to remove any excess lipstick and paused, mid-pull, in remembrance. Sam had called her two days ago, asking her for the fifth time if she'd bought her plane ticket yet. Believing he was anxious to see her again, she lied and told him that she'd already purchased it for a flight leaving that night. He'd called her during an important exec meeting and she'd rushed an answer to appease him.

"I kind of lied about that," she sheepishly admitted to Tina, wiping her finger with a paper towel. "I'll probably leave sometime tomorrow, if anything."

The line grew eerily silent for several moments, enough to make Mercedes check if Tina was still on the line. "T? You still there?"

"You lied to him, Mercy?" Tina asked, shocked by her friend's unusual dishonesty. "How could you?"

"I know, I know. I pride myself on telling the truth, but it was a little one when you think about it! It's not like I'm not coming _at all_." she argued, "Besides, what does it matter _when _I come up. Now or later, you'll still see me, right? If I can't get a ticket, I'll just drive up."

"You didn't buy a ticket?! Oy." Mercedes chuckled at her friend's dramatics. She could almost hear the slap of her hand connecting with her forehead. "Mercedes…"

"I'm coming! Stop worrying, mother hen!" she chuckled, "What is this, another Tina-vention? Is there something you're not telling me? Something I should know?"

"Mercedes, you probably wouldn't be able to get a plane ticket this late, during _graduation _season," she hinted, hoping to jog her friend's memory.

"Okay, then I'm driving. It's settled," shrugged the diva. "I'll leave in the morning."

"Mercy, it takes, like, a day and a half to drive up here! No!" Tina let out something between a growl and a yell. "Really, Mercy?! What's tomorrow?"

"Saturday?" Mercedes frowned, struggling to understand her friend's frustration. "There will probably be traffic, but it's nothing I can't handle. If you're worried about spending time with me, don't worry! I always make time for my girl!" she offered. "Hey! You think the label will let me borrow a driver? That way, I can arrive to Ohio in style, you know? Daddy will flip! He'd be so impressed, I just know it."

"Mercedes, graduation is tomorrow!" Tina yelled, frustrated by her friend's uncharacteristic cluelessness. "Artie's and Erin's….and _Sam's._"

The truth hit Mercedes like a fist to her stomach, and the contents of her cosmetic bag spilled out of her hand and into the sink with a harsh clatter. Mercedes stared at her reflection and swallowed, wondering for a fleeting second how someone who looked so put together in the mirror could be so disorganized on the inside. "Shit. Tina…._Shit!" _The new DMC recording artist bent over the sink and rested her heavy head on her crossed arms. "How….I forgot that? How in the world did I forget that?! Oh god, I'm such a bad fiancée."

"Honey, you're not bad. Caught up in your own world and insensitive to your reality maybe…" Tina comforted in her own way, "But definitely not bad."

"How am I gonna explain this to him, T? I'm the one who convinced him to go! I promised him I'd be there! I never break my promises, T! Especially to him." Mercedes groaned, growing ill at the thought of his disappointed face. She had a sudden thought, an idea, and a flare of hope flickered in her belly. "What time is the ceremony? Maybe I can still make it."

"It's at nine tomorrow morning." Mercedes checked the clock on the far wall. She had nine hours to get home, pack a bag, purchase a ticket, and hustle to Ohio. Thinking again, she decided against packing. The venue where she performed was already two hours from campus, in the opposite direction of the airport. And that wasn't even factoring in traffic and any other obstacles. No, the clothes she'd left back at her parents' house would have to do. Papa Jones' platinum card could fund an emergency shopping trip, if necessary. Wasn't saving her relationship considered an emergency?

"I'll talk to you later then, T. I have a plane to catch." Mercedes scooped all of her makeup back into her bag and snatched up her cell phone from the counter, then sprinted through the door, past her manager's demanding questions to catch a cab outside.

"Bye, girl! Good luck!" encouraged Tina, just before Mercedes ended the call.

**O-O**

"She'll be here, Sam. I just know she will. She wouldn't miss this for anything."

It was ten minutes to nine, and Mercedes Jones was nowhere to be seen. Tina checked the crowd three times for her just to be sure. She and Sam had been calling her phone since seven that morning, but all of their attempts went straight to voicemail. Both of them were trying their hardest not to let their concern show on their faces, for the other's sake. Unlike Tina, who knew the truth, Sam was worried about his love's well-being.

"Well, you spoke to her last night, right? She said she was coming. I believe her." Sam's green eyes snuck another peek through the curtain and desperately scanned the crowd, nibbling his bottom lip. "She's probably getting her sick revenge on me for pulling that surprise stunt in January. I bet she's gonna call in the next minute and tell me she's standing by the door. She would do that."

Tina's heart grieved for Sam's optimism. She wished that she could be as sure, but her conversation with Mercedes last night gave her little hope. _You really messed up big, girl._

"You're probably right." Tina smiled sadly, resting a hand on his shoulder, "Why don't we get you ready in the meantime? You want to look your best for all the pictures she's going to take."

Sam looked back at her and grinned, turning around and straightening up for inspection. "What do you think? Do I look like a grown up?"

The quiet excitement in his eyes and eagerness in his grin made him look so fragile and innocent. Sam made a point to remind everyone around him that he held little concern for the graduation festivities, but the glow about him told an entirely different story.

"You look like a well deserving, high school graduate," Tina whispered affectionately. "I'm proud of you, Sam."

Sam chuckled, and the deep rumble of the sound brought back a semblance of maturity to his form. "Thanks, T. I feel ready."

Tina moved his tassel to the side so it wouldn't obstruct the view of his face and kissed his cheek, and in that motion, she was reminded that she stood in a girlfriend's place—a _fiancée's _place. It didn't feel right. Mercedes should be primping him and covering him with proud kisses.

"Oh my trouty mouth, look at you." Santana sauntered over in a tight tube dress and heels, appraising Sam's form as he fiddled with the golden stole around his shoulders. "What happens when your kind become adults? Do you grow longer tails and become mermen or what?"

"I'm glad I'm sharing this moment with you too, Santana." Sam deadpanned. "Do you have a mirror? My lips are feeling a little chapped. I think I need to reapply."

"Here." Santana handed him her compact mirror. "Don't pucker too much. My mirror is only used to attractive reflections with normal sized body parts."

Sam rolled his eyes and snatched the mirror away, retreating to a corner to put on his chapstick. Santana playfully stuck out her tongue, which he returned.

"She's still not here?" she whispered, once the blond was a safe distance away.

"Nope. No calls or anything." Tina whispered back, watching Sam with pitiful eyes as he rubbed his lips together. "Poor thing. Can you believe she just forgot?"

"Hmph." There were certain people in Santana's world that she revered as near saint-like. She needed inhumanly selfless examples around her to balance out her corrupt nature. Mercedes was always at the top of her list, until Tina told her what their friend had done. It was probably stupid, but it always hurt a bit when those you look up to do things to remind you of their imperfection. "I hope she remembers my advice about fixing relationship issues. She's gonna have to apply a whole tube of chapstick to those lips, grease her knees with Vaseline, and suck that dick dry until she can taste his soul."

The ringing of Sam's phone interrupted the moment. A harsh shush came from Principal Figgins, standing in the corner of the stage as a silent statue of authority to keep the graduates in order.

"Sorry." Sam whispered, but answered the call anyway, hoping it was the call he'd been praying for. "Mercy?"

"Sam!" The couple smiled on either end, happy to hear the other's voice. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I can't give you a good reason, but I think I'm gonna miss your ceremony."

"Yeah, right. Stop playing around, babe." Sam playfully scoffed, convinced she was trying to trick him. "You forget that you're a terrible liar. I know you're probably sitting way in the back where I can't see you." Sam poked his head through the curtain again and squinted into the darkness, spying a small, shapely figure dressed in white that resembled his love, holding what he believed was a phone in her hands. "See? I see you right now. You're wearing white."

"Baby, that's not me," Mercedes insisted, pained that he was searching so hard for her. "I'm not there. Sam…I lied to you about buying the ticket."

"What?" he laughed, totally confused. "Why would you do that?"

"I was in a meeting when you called me and you were….you _distracted_ me." It hurt her to confess the truth now, but she owed it to him. "I told you whatever I needed to so that I could get you off the phone."

"So, you weren't planning on coming?" His smile left completely, replaced by a pitiful frown and surprisingly, tears. "At all?"

"No! I was!" she exclaimed, clutching her phone even tighter. "I was coming just like I said, that wasn't a lie. I fully intended to buy the ticket after the meeting. But then, there were more meetings, then promo work, the late night gigs….it just slipped my mind. I know how it sounds but…..God, I'm sorry, babe."

"My graduation slipped your mind?" Sam asked coldly, hating himself for the break in his voice that he couldn't hide. "Oh."

"I'm _sorry._" The apology was desperate and honest, close to pleading, and Sam could hear several breaks in her voice within the small space between syllables. He sniffled, wiped the stray tear from his cheek, and remembered her forgiveness when he messed up. He remembered how much he swore that graduation meant nothing to him. He remembered that he was fortunate enough to have his family and hers sitting in the audience, ready to whistle and scream and cheer him on. "Sam, there's no place I'd rather be than with you, cheering you on."

_One event in your life_, he reminded himself. _She's only missing one. You've missed a summer of her accomplishments when you moved to Kentucky. You've missed her label signing and her first day moving in on campus because you couldn't bear the thought of letting her go. This is the same thing. It's only one._

But it didn't feel the same. Having his fiancée miss the moment he officially accepted his diploma felt like seven missed summers combined. Not seeing her smiling face in the crowd felt like dozens of missed semesters. And as much as reason argued with the hurt in his heart, arguing all the reasons why her absence shouldn't destroy him, it didn't stop the quiver in his belly. It didn't cure the tightness in his throat. It didn't extinguish the anger that scorched his heart.

"It's fine," he said flatly, sounding neither angry nor hurt. It was worse than either of them. To Mercedes ears, he sounded dead inside. "It's no big deal, just me walking down an aisle and getting a rolled up, blank piece of paper. You're not missing much."

"It's a big deal to me, Sam," Mercedes insisted, afraid of his tone. "Every big event in your life should always be a big deal. I tried to get a plane last minute, but they didn't have _anything_. I begged and pleaded for hours, demanded managers, everything I could possibly think of. One of the flight attendants felt sorry for me and helped me research other flights, but nothing left until twelve today, after the ceremony is supposed to be over."

"Mercedes, it's okay, I understand." He took a breath, counted to ten, and released it slowly. "I'm not mad."

"I'm still coming. I'm just gonna be a little late," Mercedes tearfully assured him, ignoring his words. "Please don't hate me. I'm sorrier than I've ever been, Sam. I love you more than anything in this world, just…._please_…"

"_Baby._" The word quieted her. "I'm disappointed, but I'm not mad. Angry that you can't be here, but I don't hate you. Believe me," he whispered, just as the music for the graduation march began. "I could never hate you."

Mercedes took a deep breath and sighed heavily, feeling even guiltier. "You should." She sniffled. "You really should hate me right now."

"But I don't," he replied. "You're stubborn and selfish sometimes, maybe even a little vain, but I love you with all of that." Declaring his love out loud reminded him of what truly mattered, and the stirring emotions inside him settled down for a time. "Sometimes, the bad shows more than the good, right?"

"Right. Like today." Mercedes murmured. "Why are you being so understanding about this? I don't deserve it."

"I didn't deserve it, but you forgave me. That's what love is. You taught me that." Sam heard Figgins' call for all of the graduates to get in their places, so he hurried to explain with little words. "Put your hand on your chest?"

"What?" Her lips quirked in the faintest of smiles.

"Just do it," Sam demanded with a small smirk, placing a hand on his own chest, "What do you feel?"

"My heartbeat?" she replied, as if it should have been obvious.

"No. You feel _my _heartbeat. I'm feeling yours." Sam amended. "And I know how fast it's beating because you feel guilty and you hope I'll forgive you. It's exactly how it felt when you found me drunk off my ass at that party. You're worried."

"Yes," Mercedes admitted, nibbling her lip. "I shouldn't have lied. I shouldn't have broken my promise to you, Sammy. I'm really, truly sorry."

"And I really, truly believe you," Sam said quietly. "If you're not sure, use that superpower of yours and tell me if I'm lying."

Though it was wholly unnecessary, Mercedes closed her eyes and centered all of her energy toward the steady pulsing beat beneath her palm. She smiled fully then. "I feel it. I believe you." She sighed, opening her eyes. " Thank you. I'll see you after you march, okay?"

"I'll hold you to that," Sam replied with a chuckle. "And hey?"

"Yes?"

The sounds of applause and hollering parents forced him to whisper. "I'm still in love with you, you know."

Mercedes pressed her nose against the speaker and tried her hardest not to cry in relief. "I'd hope so, because I'm still very much in love with you, too. I need us to work, Sam."

"Well, maybe you should make it up to me." The slow, seductive coo of the words left little room for misinterpretation. "I'm open to...you know… _putting in work _if that's what it takes."

She could already feel his kisses along her inner thigh. Her thighs clamped together as the imagined caresses grew closer to her center. "That's what I take…..your _work._ But what's a good relationship without some joint effort, right? I like to give back, too." Mercedes flirted back, growing warm from the naughty ideas running through her head. "Later, though. Go graduate."

Sam smiled big at the screen as he hung up, just in time to hear his name called over the microphone.

He didn't walk to his diploma like he'd intended. He _ran _to it, swiftly and purposefully, discovering a burst of vigor trapped in his bones.

**O-O**

After a brief celebratory dinner with the family and friends, Sam retreated to Burt's house for some much needed shut eye, reclaiming his old room downstairs. The bed sheets remained as crumpled and slightly undone as he'd left it. His small travel bag rested in the corner of the room near the bookshelf, unzipped and overflowing with clothes he'd sorted through that morning. Sam sniffed the air, scented with his cologne, and smiled. The small room in the basement was his slice of paradise, his first claim to a space of his own after escaping poverty and homelessness, and standing there gave him all the feelings of home. Each corner of the room bore the mark of his inhabitance, and it felt extremely nice to have a solid piece of Lima settled underneath his feet.

Sam was too wrapped up in his comfortable thoughts to notice the second presence looming behind the open door. Its creaking hinges as it closed behind him made him jump and spin on the balls of his feet.

"Mercy!" he exclaimed, in happy shock. "You're here!"

"I am," she replied, pressing her back against the door as she deftly turned the lock. "Miss me?"

His eyes drifted down her body and noted her attire—the Iron Man towel from his bathroom wrapped snugly around her bare curves, parting just above her right thigh to expose the flesh of her hip. She raised the leg and rested her foot against the door frame, angling her knee just enough to tease him with the knowledge that she wasn't wearing underwear. Her neck and shoulders were still damp from what Sam could only assume was a recent shower, and the pointed tips of her curls clung to the tiny beads of water rolling down her collarbone. Green eyes followed a droplet, and he licked his parched lips when it disappeared in the crease between her breasts.

"Very much," he replied a bit huskier, stepping forward to slide his hand across her raised knee and up her thigh until he could sink his fingertips into the small rolls decorating her waist. His thumb brushed across the smooth skin there, then drifted south, slipping beneath her towel until he could massage the sensitive area beneath her stomach. She shuddered when he touched the shaven skin, jutting her pelvis forward to encourage lower caresses. Sam stepped closer to breathe her in, pressing his clothed body against hers, but otherwise ignored the silent plea. His fingers itched to loosen her towel instead. They walked up her abdomen and along her side, inching the small tucked corner below her armpit that kept her nakedness hidden.

"Ah, ah!" Mercedes warned, smacking his hand away as she clutched the top of her towel. "I didn't give you permission to peek, did I?"

"I need permission now?" Sam asked with a smirk, rolling his hips against hers. "I thought you wearing my towel meant you were saving it for me."

"Don't ever assume." Mercedes purred, reaching up to stroke his cheek. Tipping forward, her lips hovered over his as she whispered, "Open your mouth. You've been a naughty boy."

Sam's lips parted at her command, more from shocked arousal than obedience. Of all his fantasies of her, dominant Mercedes was his most prized possession. Thoughts of her had aided several of his self-service sessions in the past.

"Close your eyes." He obeyed, shuddering in anticipation of her next move. "Do you trust me, baby?"

"Yes. Hell yes." he whispered. The shudder he felt from her made him smile. "What are you going to do?"

"Be a good boy and open your mouth first." Mercedes gently pulled his chin, guiding his jaw open. "You're getting something tasty."

Sam felt the stretch of an elastic band wrapped in something soft loop around his left ear, then his right, before the center of his makeshift gag was pushed against his tongue with soft jabs of her fingers. Sam gasped when he licked the fabric and realized it was her underwear, then moaned when he tasted her salty essence. He was sure he was drooling, but the lingerie in his mouth was already drenched beforehand, covered in the fruit of his fiancée's masturbatory efforts. God, he wished he could've watched her. It was one of the things he enjoyed most.

"Like it?" She smiled when he nodded and garbled a yes through his gag. "Good. Keep your eyes closed until I tell you."

Sam took her hand and let her lead him. She let go for a brief moment, and when Sam heard the rustling of sheets, he knew she was preparing the bed. Another pause, then the heavy thud of cloth hitting the hardwood floor. It sounded heavy, almost like she'd balled up the comforter and threw it to the ground. A softer thud followed, bordering on a gentle plop, and he gulped when he realized that the only fabric in the room that could make that sound was the wet towel wrapped around Mercedes' body. It was soaked with water when he touched it earlier.

"Come to me." Sam quickly stepped forward, blindly following her voice and reaching out to feel her. He blushed when his hand made contact with a bare breast, then gently cupped its underside and jiggled it in his palm. A curious finger brushed across her hardened nipple, gently circling and flicking it about until it became completely stiff, but Mercedes grabbed his wrist and stepped away before he could pinch it.

"Now Mr. Evans, I thought I taught you better than that." Her chastising words held a tone of amusement. "On the bed. On your back. Right now."

The hand still holding his wrist yanked him forward until his knees hit the edge of the bed, then pulled his shoulder to turn him and shove him backward. His head hit the pillow, barely missing the bars of his headboard. Sam's breaths grew shallower, and a delightful tingling ran up his spine from the rough handling.

"You like that, baby?" Mercedes crawled up his body on her hands and knees, slapping his hands on her ass before her lips reached his ear. "Are you hard and ready for me, Sam?" Mercedes tugged the waist of his jeans, slipping the button free from its hole as her other hand slowly drew the zipper down. He hissed against her lips when she freed his hardness from his boxers, then tried his hardest to mouth the words _more _around the constraint of lace underwear when she began to stroke him.

"What? You want more? Beg me again, baby. I love it," she purred. Sam cried the word louder, thrusting against her closed fist. Mercedes kissed his closed lids as a reward for being so obedient. "Fuck, you look so sexy underneath me."

She nibbled his ear and tightened her hold around his cock, glancing up every so often to watch his eye balls loll back and forth against his lids. It was such a simple thing, but Mercedes felt the moisture score the flesh of her parted thighs like molten lava from any little thing Sam did on his way to orgasm. From the way his tongue snuck underneath her underwear to moisten his lips, making them appear softer and utterly kissable, to the little mewling sounds he made every time her nail scored the mushroomed tip of him. Unconsciously, her own excitement dripped against his thigh, and Sam lifted his knee to ease her ache without breaking the 'no touching' rule.

"Sam..." she whispered, kissing his lips as she rocked against him, massaging her clit with every roll of her hips. "Baby, that's good. I've been such a bad girl. Can you smell it? Smell me?" Sam groaned with need. "The body wash I showered in that belongs to you? The cologne I found on your dresser dabbed on my neck and between my tits?" She cupped her left breast and lifted it to his lips, circling and probing his mouth with her hardened nipple. Sam whimpered from the touch of pebbled skin rolling across his and clamped down, trapping her briefly between his teeth before she tugged the treasure away. "The sweet scent of my honey, soaked through your sheets after I came all over them?" Her tongue toyed with his through the lace gag, blending the taste of her essence with the sinful heat of her kisses.

Sam mumbled a protest mid-kiss, jutting his head forward to ease her away. Mercedes took pity and removed the offending garment distorting his words.

"Please say I can touch you like I want to," he begged in panting breaths, angling his head toward her as much as the bind of silk-covered elastic would allow. His eyes remained shut. "You're killing me."

"Really?" Mercedes softly kissed his chin, popping the top button of his shirt open. "And here I thought," she kissed up and down the curve of his jaw, releasing another button with each press of her lips until she could feel the smooth skin of his naked chest. "I was fulfilling a fantasy for you."

Sam groaned, loving and hating how right she was. "At least say I can open my eyes...give me _something_."

"Not yet." Mercedes sat up and flipped around until she straddled his chest, scooting further and further back until her ass grazed his lips. Sam, still blinded, groaned when he felt the change in position. Without warning, Mercedes bent over and flicked her tongue up and down the length of his penis.

"Do you remember our first time, Sammy?" Sam whimpered a yes just as she slid his length down her throat, gargling and slurping away to fuel his imagination. "Remember when I touched myself for you, and you promised that I could watch you cum if I let you watch me?" She moaned around the head of his cock, blowing a gentle breath across the wet flesh when she pulled away. The pad of her thumb followed the swollen, throbbing vein on the underside of his member, and silently, she counted each pulse of blood flowing through her lover's veins. "You made me feel safe, like I could share this intimate thing with you without worrying about you bragging to your friends. You're my best friend, Sam."

"You're mine too, Mercy," he rasped, kneading her backside. "That hasn't changed."

"I want to watch you this time. I need it." Her gasp and shudder delighted him when he surprised her with probing fingers, breaking the rules and satisfying the ache in her core. Sam took her moans as unspoken consent to finger fuck her.

"N-no," she shakily demanded, pulling his fingers out of her. "This is about you. I'll take care of me. Open your eyes."

Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to open them anymore. The feeling of his body being touched in the darkness amplified the pleasure. Even now, with Mercedes' mouth consuming him, he felt minutes away from erupting and seeing stars flash before him. Then again, the way her hips frantically moved against his chest made him curious. What was she doing? Was she rubbing herself? Was she using her hands?

"Sam…"she hoarsely cried, circling her hips even faster against his chest. "Look at me. Watch me."

He reluctantly obeyed, and the sight that met him necessitated a gasp. Three of her fingers stood straight up, poised to the sky and drenched with cream, as she bounced her ass. They disappeared into the contracting pink hole on display in front of him with every bounce, reappearing even wetter and messier than before. Sam wanted to lick her fingers, to taste from the source, but their differences in height and odd angle made it difficult in this position. When he scooted up into a more comfortable sitting position, her behind barely grazed his shoulders.

"God, what you do to me…" he sighed, digging his nails into her thighs when she cupped his balls and gently squeezed. Mercedes stunned him when her fingers moved further south and probed his ass. Surprisingly, after a moment of allowing his muscles to relax around the intrusion, he pushed down against her hand, urging her to push in deeper.

The penetration didn't disappoint. After a brief moment of gentle probing while she sucked him, Mercedes found the small, rounded bulge of his prostate. The smallest pressure made his hips rise so high, she nearly choked around him.

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized between excited breaths. "Feels good."

Mercedes kissed the tip of him before engulfing him again, bathing the flesh with her tongue as she drew pressured circles on his prostate. Sam's eyes crossed until everything around him resembled kaleidoscope images.

"Fuck!" He stuffed her underwear back into his mouth, gagging himself to muffle his pleasured screams. Mercedes pulled up and jerked his cock as she covered his swollen head with loving kisses, even after spurts of semen covered her nose and decorated her chin. Her fingers resumed the task of pleasuring her pussy, spurred on by his release. Teeth sunk into the top of Sam's thigh to quiet her shrill cries as she came, and her essence seeped from her and pooled in the chiseled grooves between her fiancé's pectorals.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Mercedes reached for the towel on the floor and gently wiped him clean, then took an unused corner to wipe the evidence of their lovemaking from her nose and mouth. She spotted his graduation cap near the foot of the bed and stretched her arm to retrieve it, crawling beside Sam and resting it on his head as he recovered. He pulled her to his side, kissing her forehead and wrapping the comforter around her as he collected himself.

"Damn," he finally uttered, smiling in her direction. He glanced up and noticed the hat tilted toward his forehead. "Why am I wearing this again?"

"I didn't get to see you in it." Mercedes quietly replied, resting her head on his shoulder as she fiddled with the cap's tassel. "You look good. Like a grown-up."

Sam laughed at her choice of words. "That's what Stevie and Stacie said."

"Did they notice that I wasn't there?" she asked, concerned about their perceptions of her absence.

"Boy, did they. Stacie demanded that I tell her what I did to upset you. I swore up and down that you weren't mad at me, that you just forgot, but they didn't buy it. Stevie said that _his _Mercedes never forgets the big days that happen in our family."

Mercedes briefly smiled at the words _our family_, then frowned when she realized how bad it must've looked to the twins. They were old enough to remember how heartbroken Sam was when they had to move to Kentucky. To them, she and Sam were indestructible. "So, they blamed you for the fact that I wasn't there?"

"Crazy, right?" Sam scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't know how you did it, but you've recruited two extremely loyal fans to the Mercedes fandom."

"My fandom bakes cookies. It was easy," she joked halfheartedly. "I'm really, really sorry I wasn't there, Sam. I won't miss another big family day because of work again."

"That's an unrealistic promise, Mercy. Work's gonna tear you away sometimes," Sam reasoned. "I understand that. Just don't lie to me and tell me you're coming when you're not. You broke our number one rule."

"I know. I'm sorry." Mercedes pouted. "I feel terrible."

"Don't. It's in the past." Sam waved away the mistake like it was a fleck of dust in the air around them. "Besides, I've done it, too. You're just _way _better at apologizing than I am. Pancakes and flowers ain't got shit on this."

Mercedes beamed at his compliment. "Yeah? So, you liked it?"

"Liked it?" Sam sucked his teeth and took her finger, swirling it in the warm pool of fluid on his chest before he brought it to his mouth and suckled greedily. "Shoot, I forgot I even graduated today."

She laughed and snorted in relief. "I guess Santana was right, then."

"About?" he probed, tapping her nose.

"She said ninety-nine percent of relationship problems can be cured with some extremely dedicated head." His amused eyes met her playfully serious ones as she nodded. "It's a scientific fact."

"Says Dr. Snix Lopez? Why am I not surprised." Santana's views on sexuality and the world around her had always amused Sam, even when they were dating. "Can't say she's wrong, though. I couldn't be angry right now if I tried."

"I told her she should either be a sex therapist or an entertainment lawyer." A puzzled look crossed Sam's face at the second suggestion of profession. "You know, because she helped me get my record deal."

"Oh right. The blackmail DVD thing," Sam answered distractedly, more concerned with sampling more of Mercedes' essence from her fingertips. "Underhanded, but effective."

"Good word," noted Mercedes, kissing his cheek as he drew her coated middle finger between his lips.

"It's the word of the day on my calendar. Underhanded," he repeated. "Acting or done in a deceitful and dishonest way. That's sounds like it's right up Santana's alley."

"Doesn't it?" Mercedes laughed lightly. "The end justifies the means for that girl."

The two shared a moment of silence, reflecting on all that transpired to bring them to this moment and wondering what the future held in store.

"Are you happy, Sam?" she asked quietly, twirling a sweat-drenched strand of hair near his nape around her fingers until it curled.

"With you? Absolutely. With life?" Sam bit his lip and looked to the ceiling, choosing his words carefully. "I think there's still a lot I have to find. You have a set plan about where you want to be in five years. I'm trying to get there."

"My five year plan includes your happiness, you know," she noted aloud, reminding him that he was a part of her future. "Part of that means you need to tell me things instead of bottling them up inside. I can handle the imperfect days, too. I notice when you're not yourself...like when you start pinching your belly in the mirror when you think I don't notice."

Sam's gaze flickered to hers in mild shock, then fell away. "I do that when I feel out of control. Obsess about how I look, I mean."

"Don't. You're perfect." Mercedes kissed his lips before he could protest. "Absolutely perfect." She worked her fingers through his hair, kissing him once more as she scratched small circles against his scalp. Sam gave in and let her have her way, moaning in between the small moments their lips parted as he took her in his arms. Mercedes rolled on top of him and squeezed her legs around his waist, pulling away with a small smile.

"You're awfully convincing," Sam smiled, tapping her nose. "And awfully cute."

"That's the other way I recruit people to my fandom. Overpowering cuteness," she deadpanned, playfully rolling her eyes. "How did you know that I was on my period the day you came to apologize? I've been wracking my brain, but I'm sure I didn't leave any Midol or tampons out as clues."

"Abrupt change in subject, but I'll play along," smirked Sam, tucking her hair behind her ears to see her face. "You were wearing flats."

"I was wearing flats?" she repeated, unconvinced. "That's it. I was inside my house. That's not unusual."

"You were wearing those old black flats with the little hole near the pinky toe. The butt ugly ones." He explained with a light chuckle, hugging her waist. She leaned over and rested her body atop his, tucking her head underneath his chin. "You were going to throw them away two summers ago, but said that you'd keep them for those water retaining days when your feet swell up. Your feet only swell up during your time of the month."

"Observant," mused Mercedes, secretly impressed. "And you chose _that _week to muster up the courage to talk to me?"

"Why do you think I came bearing cinnamon and chocolate chip pancakes? You feed the tiger before you try to pet it," Sam reasoned. He laughed when she took a pillow and smacked his arm. "What? It's true!"

"Whatever." She grumbled, feigning annoyance to hide her smile. "Imagine if you lived with me. We'd be on the same cycle."

"_Ha Ha_." Sam rolled on top of her and dropped the pillow over her face. "You're hilarious."

"Prove me wrong, then," she challenged, throwing the pillow on the ground and brushing the strewn hairs away from her face. "Move in with me."

"In your dorm?"

"Or we can get a place together. I'm not married to my apartment," she told him, rolling them back over to rest against his chest. "Do you want to?"

"This is a serious offer?" She glanced up and nodded in the affirmative, squinting as she studied his reaction. He paused a moment, thinking, before he replied, "Okay, then."

"Okay? Just like that?" she chirped, visibly gulping.

"Just like that." Sam nodded, kissing her forehead. "That is, unless you're already having second thoughts."

"No!" she insisted, though her stomach flip-flopped at the thought of sharing a private apartment with a man for the first time in her life. "I want you with me. I...we should do this."

"Are you sure?" he asked, concerned by the hint of fear he heard in her voice.

"I'm not sure of anything but you," she answered honestly. "It's a little scary."

"Why did you offer?" he asked, confused by her conflicting responses. "Is this another apology?"

"No." she assured him, though she couldn't say for certain if that was completely true. "I just thought that….it already feels like we're living together, right? Doing laundry, buying groceries together, the movie nights and sleepovers...we even argue like we're already shacking up. Why don't we just add a lock and key to the equation?"

"Shacking up...wow," Sam chortled. "And what if I can't live on campus with you?"

"Then I'll rent us an apartment." He frowned, shaking his head. "Okay, _we_ will rent an apartment and share the costs. Give whatever you can and I'll cover the rest."

"With what job, Mercy?" he chuckled.

"I'll make it work somehow. Between the label and my allowance money, we'll be set." She shrugged. Money was the least of her worries.

"Spoken like a rich kid," Sam huffed, teasing her. "We're not getting some ridiculous Hollywood villa or beachfront property, you know. It has to be affordable."

"Alright, Alright! I'll find the dingiest, flea-bitten place I can get with the shadiest landlord and put down a deposit," joked Mercedes, kissing the corners of his mouth. "So are we in? Are we really doing this?"

Sam took off the graduation hat tilted haphazardly on his head. Looking at it, he reflected on her offer again, more carefully than the first time. That familiar rolling unease in his belly, the one that usually accompanied the major changes in his life, churned on and intensified.

As a child, life is addition and subtraction, a simple cause and effect equation with fifty-fifty probabilities that typically worked in your favor. Adulthood was all about the gamble, the plunge into the uncharted. Sam had been a betting man since he was fourteen, sliding engagement rings on any delicate hand that might've shown him love. "I think we are," he replied, shocked by his own words. "We definitely are."

Mercedes beamed at his reply, squealing excitedly behind the hand that bore his grandmother's engagement ring.

_Only put it on one finger, son. Never take it off, no matter what happens..._

"It's you and me, Jones. Forever." He smiled back. One slow kiss sealed the deal, and Sam maneuvered Mercedes back onto her back, reaching in the bedside drawer for the condom hidden in his wallet.

Make-up sex truly outdid regular sex, and Sam thanked the fates working in his favor that Kurt, Burt, and Finn wouldn't be coming back home for another hour.

**O-O**

**Moving in together? Woah! Do you think they're ready? Young love can be so beautifully naïve in its early stages. **

**Also, did anyone else notice that Sam neglected to mention the one tiny **_**country music star **_**sized secret he's been hiding? And is Mercedes' album work going to her head? Are they both just two big hypocrites, hiding things and lying to one another, or are they simply...human? Is lying to protect someone you love ever okay? **

**Share your thoughts with me, lovely readers! **

**(And P.S., Make sure you pay attention to the titles of my newer chapters. If you can follow the theme, you'll get an idea of what the future chapters will discuss, to some extent. Don't jump too quickly to any conclusions, though. I'm gonna surprise you!)**


	37. Chapter 35 For Richer or Poorer (1 of 2)

**A/N: I speak to you all from the grave that is canon Samcedes. How something could give me so much life and kill me at the same time is beyond my comprehension. Their beauty transcends all bounds, and no, it's not perfectly written on screen, but it's certainly teetering on the edge of perfection! **

**Sadly, this story is not nearly as bright at the moment. However, I still hope you enjoy it, if only for the carefully described angst and light humor.**

**Xoxoxo,**

**KurlyQ722**

**UCLA-Sophomore Year: Mid-August to Early December**

**O-O**

"What in the world is _that _supposed to be?"

"What are you talking about? It's my face." Sam handed off the misshapen sculpture to his coworker, pointing out the details his untrained eye might have missed. "See? That's my nose and that, clearly, is my unique mouth. You just don't have an eye for art."

"No, I know art. Both of my parents do restoration work for the Smithsonian. This is just tragic." The curly haired redhead tossed the sculpture to Sam as he stood from his seat, shaking his head at the waste of clay. Sam fumbled to grab it, and the sculpture hopped back and forth between hands until he could grasp its base and set it safely on the floor. The evil green glare that followed made his friend laugh.

"Whatever, man. I'm still working on my human life art. Bree thinks it's pretty good for my first try." Sam argued petulantly. "She's not the type to lie."

"Bree, huh? That's your girl?" Ruben asked, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. The suggestion made the blonde scoff.

"My _fiancée_ is Mercedes." Sam corrected, stuffing the sculpture back into his blue backpack for safe keeping before resting it on the floor beside him. "Bree is the instructor for my sculpture club. She's a grad student, art history major I think."

"Well, either she has terrible taste and doesn't plan on a future career in art or she's trying to keep you in her class." The coworker shoved Sam's feet off of the crate they rested on and playfully slapped his shoulder. "Get up, dude. The show ends in fifteen and we still have to clean up back here. Break time's been over for you."

"For_ me_?! You're usually the one lounging around later than necessary!" Sam jokingly reminded him, reaching for the white cowboy hat that was a part of his roadie uniform. "Don't tell me boss man is finally riding the great Ruben's ass hard enough to get him moving?"

"Come on, you know no one runs me." Ruben pulled his unruly hair into a low ponytail before plopping a similar dark brown hat on top of his head. "I just figured, since this is Ms. Hill's last show weekend for the summer tour, I might as well go out with a bang."

Sam pursed his lips at the bullshit excuse. "You're trying to get Mr. Greg to write you a recommendation letter for that internship, aren't you?" he deduced, referring to their boss on the road. Their L.A. boss, Mr. John, only managed the local gigs in state. But, since Faith's tour travelled all the way across coasts to New York, the help and management had to change with the move. Ruben was one of the newer stage hands they found locally, studying at NYU. Unlike Sam, he came from a rather well-off family with old money revolving around fine art. Ruben, ever the rebel, wanted to work in business, particularly in the performing arts arena.

"Hey, entertainment management isn't as easy to get into as you'd think. I plan to be at the top of my game by the time I'm thirty. This little intern job is my ticket to the top." Ruben retorted, wheeling a cart of sound equipment. Sam followed behind with a cart of his own, shaking his head at his friend's logic. Ruben's ambitions were larger than his motivations.

"You know, it might've looked better if you showed up on time for the past three months we've been on the road, too. I'm pretty sure that artists want managers that can _manage_ to show up on time," laughed Sam. "Best of luck to you, though. Dream big."

"What about you?" asked Ruben, setting his work down as he watched Sam unpack his cart. "What are your big dreams? I must've blabbered on and on about who I wanted to be and my ten year plan, but I've never heard you talk about your career goals once. As a matter of fact, before today, I never even knew your fiancee's name! Who is she? What's she like? Let me in, man!" Ruben poked Sam's back until the annoyance stole the attention away from his work.

"Well, I know you can't tell by my marvelous work with clay," Sam sarcastically began, dramatically gesturing in the direction of his packed-away sculpture, "but I plan to be an artist someday. Possibly a graphic designer or something in animation, I don't know. I have some plans to write my own graphic novel someday."

"That's awesome! I've never met an actual artist before. All of the artwork my parents deal with are made by dead guys." exclaimed Ruben, "Hey, you think you can add me in to one of your stories? Draw me as a buff Adonis with long flowing red hair and a real square chin, standing on a rock or some crap. You know, like how they have Fabio on the cover of those chick novels?" Ruben rested his scrawny leg atop a speaker and pulled his hair free from his ponytail holder, swinging his locks around before squinting his eyes and staring off into the distance. When he set his bony fists above his meager hips, Sam snorted and rolled his eyes at the sight. He wasn't the thinnest or palest guy he'd ever seen, and Sam knew he'd be the last one to judge anyone in either category, but seeing such a mighty pose on a timid, scrawny character like Ruben was still hilarious.

"Sure, but my main characters so far are wolves. No people. I don't think I'm really good at writing dialogue for humans. I can't even find words for myself." Sam chuckled.

"Wouldn't it be the same thing? I mean, you're still going to give them emotions and thoughts. Wolves, people... aren't we all just animals looking for love? Being a wolf just gives you more freedom because they're not governed by rules. Society tells us that we have to hide our strange instincts, fight our nature. But, if you think about it, I think that we're the less evolved ones. We do everything else that the animal kingdom does, then beat ourselves up about it because of a governing system that _we _established ourselves! How stupid is that? And you know what else I think?" Sam watched him expectantly, engrossed in his rant. "I think that you could write and draw people if you wanted to. I think you're just too afraid to try because screwing up terrifies you. You can't do it because you're telling yourself that you can't. I haven't seen your drawings, but I'd bet that you 're a better artist than you give yourself credit for."

"Shut up." Sam laughed, waving him off and blushing like mad. He was terrible with compliments outside the realm of his looks. Truthfully, he failed to see the hidden potential that everyone else saw within him. Mercedes was one of the few people that made him believe he was actually capable of more. When he was with her, he felt extremely beautiful on the inside, like he held something precious deep down, though he'd never admit that out loud in those exact words. "You sound just like my fiancée. That's exactly what she keeps telling me."

"She's a smart woman, then. Keep her," he insisted, dark freckles peppering his smiling cheeks. Anyone who agreed with him was okay in his book. "I've always thought I had a female's insight. I told my mom I might have been a Navajo medicine woman in a past life." Ruben thought aloud, unaware of how he sounded or the strange, amused look Sam sent his way. "I can read people, you know? I have an eye."

"Must be a redhead thing," Sam mused with a shrug. "Mercy has this friend named Erin that's a lot like you. If she weren't already taken, I'd set you up."

"Oh god, _no. _One ginger is fire, but two together is an inferno. It'll consume you whole." He joked, wiggling his fingers and eyebrows like he was a flickering flame. "Everyone needs a sage redhead by their side. You and your Mercy must have excellent taste."

"I have excellent taste for finding someone like her." Just the thought of Mercedes brightened Sam's entire countenance, from the light in his eyes to his toothy grin and the lengthening of his spine. Ruben had shifted his attention to tying his shoes, missing the transformation, and had to do a double take when he noticed the change in his friend's mood. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me, man. Just going home and seeing her there, wearing my shirt and sitting in our living room...wrapping her hair in the mirror before we go to bed at night...it's everything. I couldn't ask for more"

Ruben almost made a joke about the sappy comment, but stopped himself when he realized that the glistening in Sam's eyes was caused by the welling of joyful tears. "Wow," Ruben whispered in awe. "I should have brought up your love life earlier. You opened up like a book! You're glowing and shit, Sam."

The observation didn't even embarrass the blonde. "We're planning on moving in together soon. We've been planning for it all summer. It's pretty exciting." Sam shared, pleased for the opportunity to tell someone else in his life other than family and glee club. "We haven't spoken to the housing department on campus yet about apartments for engaged couples, but the space already feels like it's ours. If we don't get the approval, then we've already discussed getting a place independently, off campus somewhere. I even sent her some pictures of apartment complexes near school that I think we could afford. It's going to be perfect."

Though he and Mercedes were in two separate states at the moment, their thoughts and actions felt as aligned as when they were together. The arguments were fewer and farther between, and what they did argue about usually centered around easily resolvable issues. Mercedes seemed relaxed again, and their daily video chats would run into the early hours of the morning like they used to in high school. Apartment wise, from décor to possible paint colors to how their space should be divided up, they agreed on every decision. Mercedes even granted him the freedom to decorate their living room however he saw fit, even if he chose colors and patterns that she didn't agree with. For someone as particular and structure-oriented as his girl, he knew it was a major gesture to relinquish control of creating their living space. If that wasn't love, Sam didn't know what was.

After a full year of journeying and fumbling through his college experience, it finally felt like he'd found his footing.

"Sounds pretty perfect, man." Ruben replied, "But I don't know, are you sure about moving in together? Trust me, it changes everything. I tried to move in with my girlfriend a couple of months ago and it was an absolute bust. Remember I told you about Susan? We were together for a whole year, I moved in on a Friday, and she was burning my clothes on the front lawn by the following Wednesday. Of course, the scent of Linda's perfume might have set her off..."

"Side chick?" Sam asked with a smirk.

"No! My mother!" exclaimed Ruben. "She was the one that even bought her the perfume! Susan was loco, man."

"Well, there's your problem! Mercedes is nothing like that." The boys finished clearing away any stray equipment and packed them away on the tour bus.

"You say that now." Ruben told him with a grunt, shoving the last of the heavy speakers into place before closing the metal hatch on the side of the bus. "But mark my words, moving in is going to make every issue ten times more sensitive. You're going under a microscope my brother, and Mercedes is the scientist holding the scalpel and tongs, waiting to dissect you the moment you start wriggling around."

"Mmm." Sam hummed with a smile, not buying a word.

"It's true! Take my crazy advice, man. Or, if you do move in together, make sure you buy some really heavy-smelling cologne." Sam frowned in confusion at the advice. "To cover up any suspicious perfume smells on you! Hello? Haven't you been listening to the chronicles of my crazy dating life? Chicks are bloodhounds! They know when another girl has been lingering around their territory. You know how dogs can sniff a tree and smell if another dog has claimed it?" Ruben pointed to the metal band on Sam's left hand. "That engagement ring says you've been peed on, dude. Proceed to other females with extreme caution. Do not pass go. Do not collect ten digit phone numbers."

Sam wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a brotherly noogie. "You're insane, Benson."

Since he was unofficially knighted as 'Yosemite Sam' among the staff, it became tradition to give all of the new stage hands nicknames based on their first day on the job. Ruben was nicknamed Benson because he'd shown up to work in a full tuxedo, mistakenly believing that he'd landed a position as Faith Hill's personal chauffer. The crew still laughed about the coattails and top hat he'd chosen to complete the ensemble. The redhead watched _way _too many movies.

"I told you to stop calling me that," Ruben laughed good naturedly, wrestling himself out of Sam's headlock. "_Yosemite Sam." _

"That's my name, don't wear it out!" Sam sang, hopping through the open tour bus doors to climb a couple of steps, creating a makeshift platform. "Crowds come for miles to hear Yosemite Sam croon! Yosemite Sam makes headlines as Nashville's newest star! The audience chants his name, demanding encores, as long stemmed roses and lacy underwear are thrown to his feet." Sam beckoned the chants of his imaginary crowd with a sweep of his hand, cupping the other around his mouth to cheer, "_Yosemite!...Yosemite!...Yosemite!..." _

"Yosemite! Benson!"

The boys jumped at the sound of their boss's stern yell. "Stop foolin' 'round and git yur tails backstage! We're breaking down stage soon! Ms. Hill's on her last set!"

"Yes, sir!" The boys ran to their designated tasks and stood at attention, awaiting further instruction in silence.A short, balding man in a yellow suit walked in and tore through the quietness, angrily ranting to whoever the unfortunate soul was on the other end of his phone call.

"I swear to the high heavens!" The entire room stilled and stared at him in amazement. Faith's softly crooning voice sung in the background. "I swear to the high heavens, sir." He repeated in a much quieter voice, violently waving away the attention to his conversation. "I won't ever forget your lack of professionalism and neither will the rest of country music! You will be hearing from our lawyer soon, boy. Mark my words and prepare to burn!" Sam and Ruben observed the entire top of his head slowly turn bright red, like someone had struck a match in his brain and lit his insides afire. He slammed the archaic flip phone shut, ranting several expletives to himself as he strode toward Sam and Ruben's general direction.

"Honestly, doesn't anyone respect a contract anymore? That's the fourth act that pulled out of tomorrow's show because of the half-assed stories in the papers!"

After the news broke that Faith Hill had a long lost rapist brother in prison, more and more incredible rumors came out of the woodwork to spin off of the original controversy. Everything from rumors of secret multiple abortions to clandestine meetings with foreign lovers to 'official documents' declaring Tim's desire for divorce had made headlines, defaming the character of the fallen American sweetheart. Falsified birth documents with her former name were linked to homicidal maniacs and child molesters, all complete with side by side photos of her and her alleged biological fathers to highlight distinctive features that proved their relation. Some papers had even managed to capture unflattering pictures of a gaunt looking Faith, blaming drug use and guilt over Donovan's imprisonment for her weight loss. Thankfully, none of the news outlets had revealed anything about her own past as a sexual offender. That truth remained buried and well hidden.

Most all of the claims were false, but some had grounds in a semblance of truth. Sam knew from personal interaction with the star that Donovan's trial and Faith's history as Ana had taken a toll on her marriage. But, being the traditionalists they are, Faith and Tim had never even considered separation, much less filed any paperwork for divorce. In many ways, the controversy had only strengthened their resolve to fight for their partnership. But positivity didn't sell magazines as well as defaming gossip, so Faith's character was dragged through the mud. Her fan base remained loyal and grew in numbers, but the up and coming country artists that usually flocked to open her shows started to drop off one after another in fear of destroying their own burgeoning career by association.

"When did people start believing the crap that they put out there over the word of the artist? Hell, with the knowledge I have, I could publish a whole flock of magazines with cockamamie stories about this entire industry! At least mine would be believable! I have so much dirt on so many of these artists, my publications would turn heads!"

Rubbing his distressed face, the gentleman's gaze drifted between his fingers and landed on wide-eyed Sam and Ruben. They stared at him, unmoving with brooms in their hands, listening attentively.

"You…the blonde one. What's your name?" questioned the gentleman, squinting at Sam's unusual features. " I never forget a face, and yours looks oddly familiar."

No one outside of Faith herself knew that Sam was a part of that aspect in her life. In fact, no one in their crew knew that his fiancée was _the _Mercedes Jones that had pressed charges against her brother more than a year ago. It was for the best, professionally and personally for all involved. They'd agreed on it.

Well, all except Mercedes, of course. He never did get around to telling her about Faith being his boss.

Would it matter now? After tomorrow, he'd never see or work with Ms. Hill again. Touring with her would be a fond and distant memory, and he could focus on moving in with his bride-to-be and figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. Besides, he already had other potential job opportunities lined up. He'd much rather celebrate that then break his love's heart with terrible news.

"No sir, I don't believe I've had the pleasure." Sam answered in a clever English drawl, quirking his eyebrow and rolling his hand in front of him as he gestured in a slight bow. "Most people do say that I have a familiar face."

The gentleman in the yellow suit gently nudged Ruben aside and stepped forward, circling Sam like with the look of the hungriest eagle. He stopped when they were face to face, and Sam swallowed hard when his eyes gleamed in recognition.

"You're the hero...from the shooting." He whispered, poking his chest. "The boy in the papers."

"Wait, hero? Shooting?" Ruben asked, glancing back and forth between the two men for answers. "What? When?"

Sam shook his head and took a step back. "Sir, you must be confusing me with someone else…."

"Don't lie to me, boy. I know you." The gentleman warned, wagging his finger. "I don't forget faces, and an artist's manager always knows the people around them. You're him. I've done my research."

Sam sighed and rolled his shoulders forward, seeing no way out. "Alright, yeah. I'm that guy. It was a long time ago, though. I'd rather not go back into the details."

Faith's manager didn't hear a word. All he could picture were dollar signs and positive press, with new headlines in the papers centered around the brave hero finding it in his heart to be friends with his attacker's famous sister. "You're exactly what I need to clear up this mess. If she's seen with you, it'll look like all is well! It's perfect! Plus, you've got that athletic build, the magnetic charm," the gentleman lifted Sam's chin, analyzing his face with several tilts of his head, before chucking it with a laugh. "The swoon-worthy eyes and blonde hair. I reckon you're just a country ken doll!"

Sam stepped back, wary of the hungry look in the older man's eyes. "As flattered as I am, sir, I'm practically married," He held up his engagement ring. "to a wonderful woman who'd have my balls if I cheated. Plus, I think I'm way too young to do..." he circled his hands around his body, "whatever it is you're thinking about, especially with Ms. Hill. She's married and I don't do married chicks."

The man's answering laugh was jubilant, pleasant, and raspy from years of smoking and overuse. "Oh boy, no! I don't want you to _date _Faith, I want you to perform with her!" he clarified, patting Sam's shoulders. "The media would eat your southern boy-next-door charm up like hotcakes!"

"What?" Both boys exclaimed, even more shocked by the second suggestion.

"Can you sing? Can you play?" he excitedly asked.

Sam modestly shrugged and smirked. "Well, I mean, I was a part of a glee club and I play a little guitar, but I don't know if..." A guitar, appearing out of thin air, was shoved into Sam's hands before he could protest.

"Sing me something. Anything. Right now." The manager asked, stepping back and rubbing his jaw as he considered Sam. "If you're any good, you're on tomorrow's roster for the closing show."

Sam blinked several times, stunned, before his hands could move over the strings. "What do you want to hear?" he asked with a gulp, because what else could he do?

"Anything that's on your heart, son." The man warmly requested. "What inspires you? Do you have a song that's special to you?"

Sam thought of Mercedes and her smiling face as he sang to her on a bus ride from nationals. The melody flowed from his fingertips without thought. "Well, there is this one special song..."

**O-O**

The gentleman grabbed his wrist before he could finish singing the bridge. So immersed in the tune and memories of expressive, russet eyes, Sam didn't notice the uproarious whistles and applause around him. A woman came and embraced him before he could register her face, but when she pulled back and rubbed his arm, Sam recognized Faith's charming smile.

"Sam, I don't know what ridiculous reasons my manager gave you to perform with me, but I would love to have you on my stage. Your voice needs to be heard!" she exclaimed, " I had no idea you could sound so good! Have you ever looked into music, honey?"

"N-no, I…I never really thought about it. Music was a just something to get my heart out there and pass the time. Mercy's the recording artist, not me." Self consciously, he reached down to rub his stomach. "I'm not really the stage type, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don' t think I do," frowned Faith. "Are you shy?"

"Dude, take the chance! How many people get to perform onstage in front of thousands of people with Faith Hill? She's like country royalty!" Ruben exclaimed, then blushed when the artist in question smiled his way. "I'm a huge fan, ma'am."

"Thank you, Ruben." She nodded, flattered by his adoration. "It's always nice to have supportive folk on my team."

If possible, the pale boy grew even paler than normal. "You know my name? Individually?!"

"Of course! I know all of the names of my crew." She leaned in to whisper, "and I told Greg to overlook those tardy days and write you a good recommendation letter. We want you to get all the way up there in the business, don't we? Just promise you forget me when you get big, okay? I might need you someday."

Ruben's lip quivered at her wink, but before Faith could ask him if he was okay, his body keeled over and fell to their feet. Two of the stage hands standing around ran to his aid , looping their arms through his to seat him on a nearby stool.

Sam made sure his friend returned to consciousness before he asked, "Would it be just one time? Like, just tomorrow and that's it?" Every little kid had dreams of being a superstar for a day, and Sam's inner child was no exception. Rocking out in front of thousands of nameless, faceless people while they chanted your name sounded like so much fun! But his little dalliance in music couldn't get in the way of his financial priorities. He would have an apartment to pay for soon, on top of books and other minor bills he'd be responsible for. Playing around on stage wouldn't cut it for his long term plans, and Sam vowed that his sophomore year would be a year of stability, both in his finances and in his home.

"If that's what you want." Faith answered kindly. "I have to warn you though, I think you might get a bit addicted. Something about that applause makes you thirty feet tall inside. And if your little crowd of fans in here suggests anything, I'd say that the crowd might get a little addicted to you, too."

**O-O**

Ms. Hill's words were profoundly prophetic. Sam and Faith's performance garnered a total of five encores, and even after their final song, their audience begged and screamed for more. A representative from Faith's label called shortly after the performance when a live stream video of their performance made its way to Media Takeout. They offered him a record deal on the spot.

Sam flat out refused at first, explaining his new priorities, but when the label rep made mention of a sign-on bonus ending in _five_ zeroes, he was hard pressed to resist. He compromised by agreeing to think it over and discuss it with his significant other.

By the end of the day, Sam was country music's overnight success. The video of the performance zoomed between social networking sites before finding its way onto UCLA's official Facebook page. The page cited over a million views daily, and the video's view count jumped in numbers by the thousands within hours. When it was time to return to campus at the end of August, the entire campus was buzzing about their school's newest claim to fame.

Unique had the video sent to him via text, and after he recognized Sam's face from their small interaction, his stilettos darted across the campus green to congratulate Mercedes. It was a bright and sunny Friday, a perfect day for optimistic thoughts of her future with Sam, when Unique shared news that should have come from her fiance's mouth.

With every call or text afterward, Mercedes waited expectantly for Sam to tell her, to reassure her that this secret job wasn't some budding new chasm he'd created to sabotage their relationship.

Sadly, her man had already made the wise (yet cowardly) decision to wait until he saw her in person before he broke the news. His plane brought him back to Cali at the end of the month, just before the official start of the school year. By then, her cheery disposition had disappeared, replaced with a troubling doubt that made her insides tremble.

**O-O**

"Erin, it's been almost six weeks since Unique showed me the video, and he _still _hasn't said anything to me about it. Hell, you just found out, and _you _even have the decency to call me and tell me! Everyone else is telling me about Sam's life but Sam!"

Her friend sighed from thousands of miles away, grieved by the dishonesty. "Does he know that you know? Maybe he's trying to play you back? You know, figure you out?"

"Rin, we're not supposed to be _playing _each other. We're grown and engaged to be married. We promised to be open and honest with each other." Mercedes complained as she set the call on speaker, placing it on her dresser to finish putting on her clothes. "I mean, I get so much grief for lying to him about buying the ticket for graduation..."

"Yeah, that was pretty messed up."

Brown eyes rolled in annoyance, even though its recipient couldn't see her. "I know that. But at least I called and owned up to my mistakes! Hiding a plane ticket is one thing, but holding a secret like this is...I don't even know." Clad in a white bra and bright purple leggings, Mercedes sauntered over to her closet and pulled two off the shoulder shirts from their hangers, one in black and one in royal blue. She laid them on her bed and took a moment to survey her options before choosing the brighter color. Los Angeles was sunny and spirited in the fall, something that the Ohioan was wholly unaccustomed to, and Mercedes intended to reflect that mood in her clothing, even if her current disposition was everything but bright. _Dress the way you want to be. _Her grandma Nettie instilled that word of knowledge in her at three years old, and the lesson never left her.

"Let me ask you, Rin," she began, grunting slightly as she slid her shirt over her head. "If Artie had a secret job with one of your known adversaries, wouldn't that make you feel some kind of way? Like he didn't trust you or had this secret life he didn't want you to be apart of?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't really have any adversaries. I'm not sure I could even _spell _adversaries," Erin answered innocently. "I didn't even have friends until I met you guys last year, so I guess something like that wouldn't matter much to me in the long run."

"Okay, but _hypothetically, _wouldn't you be a little annoyed?" Mercedes argued, hoping to coax her friend into agreeing with her. "I mean, we're engaged! We've told each other everything up until now, even the painful stuff. Why hide this? Why blatantly lie to my face every time I bring up your job?"

"Maybe he's trying to protect you, bestie," Erin gently reasoned. "The controversy with my family...well, it caused you a lot of grief and pain. What my brother did changed your entire life. I know that. Sam knows that even better than I do, since he went through all that drama with you. Maybe he doesn't want you to hurt again."

"God, I'm tired of being treated like I'm a china doll just because I was assaulted." Mercedes huffed. "Yes, it sucked. And yes, I was a total emotional mess for a while and hated looking at myself in the mirror, but I've overcome all of that! Erin, I've been trying my hardest to leave all that history in Ohio and start over. Sam knows _that_, too."

"Exactly, Mercy. So why remind you of what you've been through, what you're trying to leave behind, by bringing up my sister?"

"Why not trust me enough to handle it? Why not give me a chance to respond?" Mercedes griped, sweeping all of her makeup from the dresser into her yellow Birkin bag once she finished putting on her mascara. "You think I care that he's working for Faith? Hell no!"

"Could've fooled me," Erin mumbled under her breath.

"A job is a job. Money is money. As long as he gets it legally and away from any stripper poles, I'm fine with it. Do I like that Faith is the one who gave him that job? Of course not, but that's not what bothers me. What I'm pissed about is the fact that he lied to me every day for _months! _Not just a day or two, Rin, but almost _half a year_. I mean, how long did he think that I would settle for that 'I don't know who my superstar employer is' foolishness? It insults my intelligence and belittles our relationship." Mercedes took a breath and calmed, counting her breaths until the anxious fluttering in her heart went away. "It's like I don't know who he is anymore. Do you know how scary that is? Over summer, we felt so close, talking about the move and our wedding plans and the future. Now I can't even let him kiss me without wanting to hurt him. I've never hated being around him before."

The thought depressed her. "If I can't trust him to tell me the small secrets, then who am I marrying? Erin, who am I planning to share my bed with? My life with?"

"Don't be so melodramatic, girl. He's still the same Sam! You guys are still ridiculously in love and crazy about each other. One day, you'll look back on this, smack old Sam upside the head, and make him clean your dentures as punishment." Erin assured her cheerily, as only an eternal optimist could. "Besides, I really, really need you two to work out. If you guys can't do it, then Artie and I sure as heck can't!"

Mercedes softly smiled at her friend's brand of humor. "Don't worry, I think Artie's found his perfect match in you. That no filter, ain't shit spirit only comes around once in a blue moon."

"Ha! Ain't shit spirit...I like that." Erin giggled. "You're so funny."

"I'm not trying to be. It's the truth," she said, laughing softly. "You and Artie are blessed to have each other. You won't ever have to worry about lying destroying your relationship, seeing as neither of you have a proper filter on your thoughts anyway."

"I'm sorry, what? Got bored and tuned you out for a second there. A seagull flew near my window and it was white with brown spots!" Erin replied, unknowingly proving her friend's point.

Mercedes laughed again, choosing not to reiterate. "I asked if Unique pick you up from the airport yet."

"Oh, yeah! He's right here. Say hi!" Mercedes heard all of the shuffling and hasty rubbing against fabric that it took for the phone to change hands. Her west coast partner in crime answered shortly after, greeting her in his shrillest, annoyed voice.

"How the hell did you convince me to battle LA traffic near the airport on a Saturday?! How?" he cried, "I almost lost my car, my sanity, half my virginity _and_ one of my feathered eyelashes out here with these crazy drivers! Girl, I mustlove you, because my gram-gram on her death bed couldn't make me swerve my delicate behind through these streets."

"I love you, nique!" Mercedes yelled back. "So, so much!"

"You better! Hell…." The diva sucked his teeth. "You better be bent over and have that ass ready for me to spank when I get home!"

"Don't tempt me, you know I like that," purred Mercedes, bending over to slip on her bejeweled moccasins. "Was it really that bad out there, though?"

"Even worse, honey." Unique sighed, sounding a lot closer and clearer now that he'd taken her off speaker. "Where's your car?"

"I lent it to Puck. He's picking up Sam from the airport tonight while I'm at that promo event for the record label, so I let him use it for work. That way, he can just go straight after and get him. After the party, I have to study for my midterms, then finalize plans for album cover designs, plan dinner, finish the laundry…. "

"Girl, we're tired just listening to you! Are you nineteen or forty?" Unique laughed. Erin giggled along in the background. "You are out here working like you're fresh off the boat and laboring for your freedom papers. That trifling man of yours can't help out? I know he's cute and all, but you don't need the added stress he's bringing you, honey. Trust mama. I've seen it all, done it all, and have the battle scars to prove it."

"All the things keeping me busy are mine, not Sam's. Lying to me doesn't really help the stress factor, but I can't blame everything on him." Mercedes contested, hating herself shortly after for feeling the need to defend him. "Besides, maybe his secret's not the _hugest_ deal in the world? I mean, Erin did have a point. He could've been trying to protect me in the only half-assed way he knows how. It sounds like something he would do."

"Not the hugest deal in the world? Diva, do you _hear _yourself? Do not get into the habit of making excuses for him. He's a lying liar who lies. Period," Unique refuted. "I don't care how fine or loving or considerate you may think he is, deep down he's just like every other man, and every other man I've ever known always has a secret selfish agenda," He glanced over and rose an eyebrow at Erin, "Or an SSA, as I like to call it. Especially when they're as gorgeous as Sam is. You can't trust the pretty ones for too long, Mercy. You better hear me! I've been up under, next to, and on top of the entire rainbow of pretty boys, and the SSA theory stands the test of time."

Mercedes worried her lip, riddled with doubts and questions. "But he loves me, Unique. Everything he does is for _me._ It's not like he's trying to pursue some secret music career behind my back or something. That's always only been my dream. He wants to be design, not perform." Assured by her own answer, she nodded to herself, reasoning, "I think he stuck around because of the pay. That has to be it. And while that agenda may be secret, but it certainly isn't selfish."

Unique hummed low in his throat. "So you say, yet I have live streaming footage on my phone right now of him dancing around with his guitar, crooning country classics with the western princess herself. Was that for you, Mercedes? Was performing _five encores _with Faith Hill for you? If so, please tell me how." Mercedes remained silent, at a loss for answers. "Exactly. Erin, take the phone back. I see police on the corner and I'm not trying to get arrested today."

Erin gingerly took the phone back and pressed it to her ear. The two women remained silent for a moment, each mulling over different parts of Unique's advice, before the red head found her words.

"I know this may not be the right time, and you've already rejected the idea before, but maybe ….a distraction would do you good right now?" Erin asked slowly, in the gentlest of voices. "You can always come with me to the facility if you want. You're always welcome."

Erin's trip to the City of Angels served a dual purpose. Mercedes, Artie, Faith and most of the people she'd grown close to over the past year had relocated to the state. With plans to deter a semester of college to 'find her place in life', Erin decided to venture as far out as possible, staying with her sister until she made her own plans. Until her plane ride over, Erin had never spent any length of time away from her parents. Her new sense of self and community gave her confidence to venture out, and Mr. and Mrs. Bailey refused to deny their baby girl the chance to reconnect with her older sister, not after seeing how much the reunion had positively affected her. Faith was all she could talk about.

This past summer also marked the end of Donovan's first year served in prison. They'd been corresponding often with letters and the occasional phone call, and the remarkable improvement she'd sensed in him made Erin want to see the difference in person. Mercedes, unmoved by the news, had politely declined the younger woman's first two offers to join her on the trip. Her third denial was a little less than gentle.

"Erin, what in the world makes you think that visiting Donovan in prison would be a good distraction for me right now? Your sister's name alone is giving me a headache." Mercedes groaned, massaging her temple with her free hand. "You are the only member of your family that I can deal with right now. Everyone else needs to stay out of my life. I don't need distractions. What I need are answers, and trust me, when Sam comes home, he's getting an earful from me."

"A lot of things can happen in a year, Mercy. A lot of things have happened to him….good and bad. He's so different now, I swear." Erin insisted, defending her brother's name. "But I understand if you don't want to come. I just thought…after you pleaded so much for his second chance, you'd might like to see what that opportunity's done for him. It might cheer you up some."

Mercedes shifted uncomfortably in her seat on the bed. Somehow, she doubted that anything Donovan related would actually bring her joy. "I'll pass, thanks. I can't look back and move forward at the same time. He's not a part of my life anymore and neither is his memory." She heard her friend despondently sigh, then hum reluctantly in agreement. "Look, I know you want everyone to just get along and become one big happy family, but life doesn't work that way. You'll always be my friend Erin, but to be in my life, you have to understand that Faith and Donovan won't ever be. I won't ever be tied to them in any way. Okay?"

"Yes," she morosely replied, "It was worth a shot, anyway."

"I'm sorry it has to be like this." Mercedes sympathized with Erin's craving for unity amongst the important people in her life. Division devastated her, too. Their hearts were the same in that way. Mercedes just couldn't see how it would ever work. "I will be civil, though. If they don't start anything with me, I won't start anything with them."

"That's fine. I can live with that." Erin agreed before quickly changing subjects, already bored with being sad. "So, what's it like being famous? You've been working on this album since you left Ohio and haven't given me anything to squeal over. Details!"

**O-O**

The weight of freshly cut apartment keys felt like gold in Sam's palm. He slid them into their respective locks and undid each tumbler as quietly as he could, conscious of the late hour and his possibly sound asleep roommate. When he entered, their living room was pitch black, save for the white sliver of moon peeking through the delicate lavender curtains. The purple hue illuminated the far wall, providing the only source of color in the room.

Truthfully, whether it was night or day, most of the room's appliances and furniture were various shades of black and grey. Most of the furniture belonged to him when he shared an apartment with Puck.

Sam quite enjoyed the masculine feel of the room, a sort-of man cave in the apartment. After all, he was the one that watched the most television and spent most of his free time there. Mercedes allowed him the space, but the curtains were her own personal stroke of rebellion, her staked claim in his space. And bless her little persuasive pout, Sam couldn't resist compromising with her. After all, the main reason why most of the room had his things was because his furniture was compact enough to fit their smaller quarters. Mercedes's dorm had been twice the size of their new place. It could manage to hold her gigantic glamour mirrors and posh wrap-around leather couches without a problem. At the moment, most of her things were either in storage or decorating parts of their bedroom, arguably the girliest themed room in their place. Her loud colors and animal prints didn't quite match anything else, but who cared? The only people seeing it would be her and Sam, and the blonde knew well enough to sacrifice his pride if he ever wanted to continue sharing a bed with her.

When he'd suggested this place just outside of the city, quite honestly, Sam expected more of an argument from his fiancée. The neighborhood wasn't the best in the world, the space was compact, and it was so far from the lifestyle she was accustomed to back in Ohio. Sam could deal with a few cockroaches here and there, but Mercedes came from money. He assumed that she'd take one look at it, scoff, and berate his choices.

But surprisingly, it never came. She just shrugged and smiled, proclaiming her love for his taste, before gushing about the wide open windows and shockingly large closet space in the bedroom. Sam had planned an entire pitch in his head, ready to defend his selection, and she managed to shut him down by loving it right away. In his heart, he should've known better. Though well off and used to finery, Mercedes was never too attached to material things. She enjoyed money, but never tied her worth to it.

Nearly two months of bliss came and went, and her joy never wavered. Mercedes Jones, diva extraordinare, had shrunken herself down to decorating corners of a tiny bedroom, just so she could share it with him. As far as Sam was concerned, she could have all the delicate lavender curtains she wanted in their home. He'd labor to the bone to keep her happy.

_Their home. _ Each word meant so much alone, but together, they were everything. All Sam had ever wanted was a place to call his own, a solid floor and four walls to keep the cold out with his name on the lease with someone special to share it with. In his fantasies, Mercedes's signature had always been just just below his, right next to the words _co-owner _or _tenant_, even when he was dating Quinn and Santana.

He'd never once considered home with them. The former would have been far too picky and particular for him to live with, and the latter would have probably driven him crazy before they could even get the chance to settle on a place.

Mercedes always made the most sense. In fact, for a while, she was his fantasy's only option. Her encouraging yet nervous smile. Her name in purple ink, signed in neat cursive and decorated with unnecessary hearts and stars. The slight tremor in her hand as she held up the paperwork for them to re-read together—because she was detail-oriented that way—before they handed it off and took their keys. Her soft grip around his fingers, gently squeezing to assure them both that this wonderful moment was really happening and they were experiencing it together.

Living with someone took some time to get used to, but most days Sam found himself squeezing his own fingers in place of his fiancée. He did it now, in the serene quiet, before nudging the door closed and locking the outside world away.

It wasn't a wonderful dream. He wasn't fantasizing. Even now, as the overpowering odor of drying paint from freshly coated walls assaulted his senses—the walls he and Mercedes spent a laughter filled weekend painting in a variant shade of beige called _Cream Bisque_—it felt too good to be true.

Tossing his keys on the counter, Sam toed off his red Converse sneakers near the door and tiptoed over to the coat closet to hang up his leather jacket. He grabbed the nearest hanger and rested the garment in its rightful place beside Mercedes' faux fur. A second passed for him to admire the sight, running his hands across the soft acrylic fibers and the studs near his collar, before his foot gently nudged the door shut.

"Mercy?" he whispered, following the pale yellow light streaming through the crack of their bedroom door. "Baby?"

She replied with horridly nasal snore, one that would have made Sam wince if he hadn't have spent several nights growing accustomed to the sound. Instead, he chuckled, knowing that Mercedes would never believe him if he told her that she sounded like an eighty-five year old with half a functioning lung when she slept.

But when he walked in and saw her sleeping state, Sam did manage a small wince, more out of pity than pain. Between the social events and her school schedule, Sam should have expected to find her like this—fully clothed and atop the sheets, drooling over her textbooks. They both shared the terrible habit of laboring until they keeled over.

Concerned for her health, Sam checked the wall beside him to peruse the blocks of time filled with her cursive, weighing his options.

"What's your schedule look like tomorrow, hmm?" His finger trailed down their color coded agendas for Monday, sliding over to the left column that held her schedule. "Seven to one, Mercy? Seriously? Hell no."

Most of her morning involved studio time until her African Studies class at two that afternoon. "The label should not be working you like Hebrew slave."

If she were awake, Mercedes would have laughed and made a quip about how 'her people' had already given their share of unpaid labor for her to justify doing it for free. He would've argued that they still weren't paying her enough for all the magic that she makes in the recording booth. She would've smiled and rolled her eyes, but never refuted him.

Instead, another harsh, nasal snore vibrated through the silence. A small river of saliva ran down the pages of her history textbook, pooling in the dip along its spine and soaking through the depiction of King Tutankhamen. It was scary how well he could hear her in his head.

Poor time management had truly run her ragged. The bags under her eyes were sunken and pronounced, and a single gray hair he hadn't spotted before stuck out from her weave and clung her brown forehead. She hadn't even taken off her makeup or wrapped her hair up in one of her silk scarves. He'd seen her tired before, but this was the first time that she'd abandoned her nightly routine in favor of sleep.

"Alright." Sam sighed, picking up her discarded cell phone from the floor. "Time for your man to do some damage control."

He unlocked her screen and found the familiar number on auto pilot, shooting a quick text. When the recipient replied with a short 'k, talk 2morrow', Sam hooked her phone up to its charger and made his way to the bathroom. Two more phlegmy snores rolled from her chest before he returned with a small blue bag of towelettes. He crumpled up one in his hands and rolled it around to warm up, then crouched down to wipe his love's face free of makeup. Mercedes sighed and jerked her head slightly, but remained asleep throughout the cleaning. When he finished, Sam discarded the stained towellette in their bedroom trash bin and lightly kissed her shiny nose. Even in her sleep, Mercedes' body recognized the gesture, and her lips curled upward into a small smile. He smiled back, even though she couldn't see it, and kissed her nose once more.

"Now, about your hair..." Sam whispered to her, gently raking his fingers through the soft, black tresses. He wouldn't dare try to wrap it for her. Lord knows he'd have her waking up with a bird's nest on top of her head, and that wouldn't do either of them any good. He could just pull it back in a ponytail and slip her satin cap thingy over it, but Mercedes mentioned just yesterday that pulling her hair back gave her headaches. Sam suspected the headaches came from lack of rest, but didn't want to make it worse by doing something else to cause her more pain.

Suddenly, a memory struck him, and he went over to the dresser to sift through her drawers. Mercedes could fold everything back later. Right now, Sam considered his search a fashion emergency. He knew she would agree with his logic.

"Yes! I think this is it." The purple satin pillowcase appeared at the bottom of the drawer, buried beneath her balled pile of ankle socks. Sam pulled off his shirt and pants, tossing them in the hamper behind him, before climbing into bed in his boxers with the case in hand. He took one of his pillows, switched cotton for satin, then gently weaseled his fingers underneath her head to lift it slightly. Sleep-ridden Mercedes nuzzled and kissed his fingers when they touched her lips, and for a moment, Sam felt his nether region grow warm and dangerously tingly.

"Fuck, if you weren't so tired right now..." It had been a little less than two weeks since they'd made love, mostly because of their conflicting schedules and overall exhaustion. That little kiss reignited his suppressed desire, stirred his belly in the most delicious ways, and her soft, whimpering moan when his thumb grazed her bottom lip didn't help matters. "Later, okay? I'm trying to get you comfortable."

Mercedes moaned in reply and smacked her lips, shifting her bottom back slightly towards the sound of his voice, but remained otherwise still. Relieved, Sam took a breath and quickly switched her pillow out for his. Completing the task with little difficulty, he blew a kiss to the heavens and smoothed Mercedes's hair away from her face. The small shift of his hand when he pulled his arm away caused her history textbook to fall to the floor with a dull thud, sound cushioned by the throw rug.

Bless the lord, once again, for the invention of fluffy carpets.

"There we go. All better." Sam peeked over to make sure she hadn't woken up, and the peaceful beauty that greeted him stopped his breath. He couldn't resist kissing her temple, even if it ended up waking her. She was so precious to him, an absolute cherub-faced angel when she slept. "Now, about your clothes."

Given his sexual frustration and state of undress, Sam thought it best to remove as little as possible from her body. Plus, she might wake up, spot him undressing her, and get the wrong ideas about the boundaries he was willing to cross to see to his own desires. Nightmares of her attack still plagued her from time to time. Tonight seemed to be a good night, but the last thing he wanted to do was trigger her.

Her boots and leggings came off easily enough. All he had to do was gently roll her onto her back and bend her knees. What wasn't easy was the moment when her knee slipped from his grasp, parting her legs, and he realized that she hadn't worn underwear all day.

"God mercy, are you trying to kill me?" Sam whispered, laughing at his terrible luck. "You really will kill me if you wake up and realize what I'm doing."

Sam knew she really wouldn't. The trust was too strong between them for her to believe anything terrible about him. But, saying it helped him focus more on his task and less on her soft, enticing skin.

He unbuttoned her blouse so it wouldn't constrict her, then unhooked the front clasp of her bra, leaving both in their place. It would take too much maneuvering to slide her arms out without disturbing her sleep.

Satisfied, he covered them both with the plaid fleece blanket near the foot of the bed and spooned behind her, hugging her waist. Interestingly enough, the warmth of his body pressed against her back woke her, and she turned in his arms to return the embrace.

"Mmm...hi, m'love," she sleepily slurred, softly kissing his neck. "I missed you."

Sam sighed happily and kissed her hair, slipping a hand underneath her blouse to touch her bare back. "I missed you too."

"Can't sleep without you now," she mumbled, eyes barely open. "It's sad." A sleepy chuckle escaped her. "Did you just come home?"

"No, a little while ago now," he replied, lifting his leg over her thigh to tuck her lower half between him. She shuddered in his arms.

"Your feet are always so cold," she complained, though she snuggled closer to him. "And you need to cut your nails."

"And you snore like a drunken sailor with emphysema." He chuckled, wiggling his chilly toes against her calves. Mercedes was sleepy enough to find the joke at her expense funny.

"I do not. Shut up."

"Do so, lady." Sam pulled the covers to his neck, careful not to stifle his shorter bedmate, and tried to settle his mind to sleep. "Princesses can snore too, you know."

"Do not," she argued back weakly, stifling a yawn. "How was work?"

"Work-y." he replied, sounding less conscious himself. "How was school?"

"School-y." The couple laughed softly at their simple descriptions of a busy day. "I have to get up soon. Take makeup off. Change. Finish studying. Studio at seven."

"Already took care of all that. Texted Reese, cancelled studio time, wiped your face," He replied, growing more drowsy by the second. "Clothes are loose. Sleep."

Mercedes rubbed her cheek across her pillow, noting the difference in texture. "Satin pillowcase?" One weighted eyelid pried open ever so slightly to observe him.

"Mm-hmm. So don't get up." His legs tightened around her, clamping her in place. "I like you right here."

"Okay," She replied, letting the second yawn pass her lips this time. "I love you."

Sam expected her to chastise him for cancelling her studio time. Mercedes was clearly more exhausted than she'd even realized herself. "I love you too. G'night."

"Sammy?" she rasped.

"Hmm?" he answered, eyelids shut.

"You had to work really late tonight. You didn't call me to tell me. Why?" Worried green eyes met curious brown, and Sam realized then that he'd forgotten to turn off the lamp light. The room was bright enough to show his guilt.

"The artist I'm working for had late shows. End of their tour. It got so busy that it slipped my mind, babe. Sorry." It wasn't a lie. Faith's self-titled tour stretched well into September and the middle of October because of popular demand. Until he made a set decision about becoming an artist, Sam agreed to the label's request to sing during ending sets, just to get the crowds used to his face should he decide to join their family. The guilt of hiding his boss's identity ate away at him every night he came home, but the steady money was too good to pass up, especially now that they had the shared responsibility of a monthly rent.

Plus, the fear of losing Mercedes over yet another lie made him panic. The lie was hurting their relationship, but the truth could kill it completely. Sam wasn't sure he was ready, or if he would ever be ready, to let go of her.

"And you still don't know who he or she is?" Mercedes casually asked, rubbing her eyes. She left his arms before he could answer to crawl out of bed and turn out the light. Sam tensed with worry for only a moment, until she climbed back in and snaked her arms around him, settling against his chest. "I'm starting to think you work for the mob."

"No worries. I'm pretty sure I don't work for the mob." He replied quietly, laughing. "I'd be doing cooler things, like carrying a gun and making double-crossers sleep with the fishes. I don't think the mob would make me stock sound equipment into tour buses all day."

"Maybe not." She shrugged, chuckling just before she yawned. "Sure it's not another woman keeping you, then?"

Faith was _technically _another woman, but the small, insecure way she asked the question made Sam second guess teasing her. "No, babe. There's no other woman for me." He answered surely. The answer earned a gentle smile from his love. "I'm too afraid you'd kick my ass."

Mercedes snorted so hard that she startled herself. "Yes, I would. You know I would."

"I'd have to call the mob to protect me from you and your father. I value my life, woman. Plus, what we got here is too good. I don't need to look anywhere else." He smiled, kissing her forehead. "You're home enough for me, Mercedes Jones."

"Evans," she corrected. Sam's smile only grew. "But you know you could tell me, right? If you worked for the mob or had feelings for someone else... or whatever…..I wouldn't like it, but you could still tell me. Would you?"

"Absolutely. I know I can." Guilt gnawed away at his stomach. "I can't keep anything from you for too long, right? That damn superpower of yours." After a moment, he added, in the softest whisper, " I don't want to keep anything from you. When the time's right, you'll know all my secrets."

A long silence stretched between them after the semi-confession. "Mercy? Did you hear me?"

A long, horridly nasal snore was his only reply. When he glanced down, his love was sound asleep just above his heart, leaving her mark in drool on his bare chest.

"Goodnight, Princess." He whispered with a soft smirk, kissing her forehead once more. He rolled his head back and gazed pensively at the ceiling. "I swear I'm gonna tell you everything. Tomorrow's the day."

**O-O**

Mercedes' phone alarm was pre-set to wake her at seven the next morning. However, instead of the usual mock sounds of a car alarm, the chorus of Right Said Fred's _I'm Too Sexy_ blasted near her ears and stirred her from sleep. She smiled before her eyes opened, knowing Sam was the culprit for the change in music, and reached for his arm on the opposite side of the bed.

Instead, she grabbed a fistful of sheets, left slightly warm from his body heat.

With a groan, Mercedes rolled over and stood to her feet. She grabbed her folded leggings from atop her dresser to slip them on, then buttoned her wrinkled shirt and made her way to the living room.

"Sam?" she rasped, squinting at the amount of sunlight beaming through the living room windows. The man in question was fully dressed, pacing in front of the couch with a concerned expression. He stopped immediately when he saw her, eyes widening as if she'd just shown up out of thin air. "You ok?"

"I have something to tell you." He expelled in a breath, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Something...pretty big. Can you sit down?"

Suspecting what the confession might be, Mercedes nodded once and took a seat on the couch. Sam quickly plopped down beside her and took her hand.

"Before I tell you what I have to tell you, I just want you to know that I never, ever intended to hurt you or keep you in the dark." He began, swallowing hard. "But you deserve to know that I broke my promise. I haven't been honest with you."

Mercedes inhaled and exhaled a slow breath, warding off the onset of panic. "I'm listening," she replied, careful to keep her voice even. "What haven't you been honest about?"

Sam's grip around her hand tightened, and when he pushed his fingers through hers and squeezed, she could feel the pulse between each digit quicken.

"I guess there's no real way to say it but to just _say _it, right?" he chuckled. Mercedes squinted at him. "Right, okay." Sucking in a lung full of air, Sam exhaled his confession in one long stream of joined syllables. "MybossisFaithHill."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said," he huffed, lips flapping from the force. "I said that my boss is Faith Hill."

Mercedes kept her poker face static."And how long did you know that?"

Sam ruffled his hair. He needed to do something with the nervous energy in his free hand. "Since the day I took the job."

"And you decide to tell me _now_?" she demanded, eyes wide in incredulity.

"Yes, I decided to tell you now," Sam sadly repeated. "Although I prefer seeing it as 'just worked up enough courage to stop being chicken shit and tell you', but that's just me."

"Why now?" Mercedes asked, genuinely curious of the answer. The timing was way off and seemingly out of the blue. The only thing she could suspect is that he'd either lost his job or gotten a promotion of some sort. Neither one worked for her nerves. Regardless of the choice, it would be another surprise, another assault to her system, and lately she felt more run-down and ill-equipped for shocking news.

"Because…." Sam seemed more reluctant to share the latter part of his news than the former. "I might've…well…Faith's closing act partner decided not to come for the last part of the performance in August, which is _all _duet numbers by the way, because of the crap about her in the papers. Apparently, that makes her less of an artist or something. A load of bull, right? She's awesome!"

Mercedes never did get a handle on her feelings about Sam's fan devotion to the blonde country singer. "What does that have to do with you, Sam?" she sighed long-sufferingly, rubbing her heavy eyes. College made eight hours of sleep feel like a catnap.

"Right, well her manager came up to me and recognized me from the news stories in the papers about the shooting at Nationals. It was only, like, a half page column in the _Times_, if that much. Who remembers that? But, I guess if you're Faith's manager and her brother is an accused rapist and potential murderer, you keep tabs on those things." Sam scratched his neck in thought, voicing them aloud, "I wonder if every celebrity has a manager that guards their secrets. Is there like a class on secret keeping in manager school? Are they trained like the CIA to endure torture and waterboarding? Crap, imagine getting cut in a thousand different places on your skin so that the paparazzi won't find out about Paris Hilton's latest sex tape. That career must _suck_…"

"Sam, I don't have the patience or the clarity of mind for your rambling today. Move on."

"Oh god, I'm sorry. Word vomit. I'm getting somewhere, I promise."

"Well, get to it!" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"Okay!" he recoiled, holding up his hand. "Well, long story short, he thought it would be good for Faith's image if people saw me singing with her. He thought it would make it seem like there was peace between us or something. It'd look good."

"Is there? I mean….are you two close?" Despair, and a hint of desperation, colored her tone, enough for Sam to notice. Long, flexing fingers quickly curled around her other hand.

"She did give me a job, Mercy. I appreciate it." he told her softly, "But we're not best friends, if that's what you're asking. It's just business."

"Oh. Okay." Her sigh of relief was bigger than she intended it to be, and embarrassment burned her cheeks soon after. "I mean, not like it matters to me or anything. If you want to be friends with her, that's none of my business."

"If it bothers you, then it should be my business." Sam remarked, smirking as he ran his thumbs across her knuckles. "Look, the only reason I took it was because the money was too good to pass up. I did look for other jobs, but the pay wasn't nearly enough to cover rent and books and other expenses. For a struggling art student with a pathetic resume of stripping and making soft serve sundaes at Dairy Queen, it's a godsend. I did this for us."

"Sam, if you really did this for us, then you would have included me in your decision from the beginning," Mercedes explained, gently pulling her hands from his grasp. "Don't try to sugar coat it. I'm not stupid or blind. You took this job for you and your own selfish needs."

"_Selfish_?" Mercedes rose from the couch and nodded, making her way to the refrigerator. An incensed Sam followed behind. "Everything I do is for us! How can you call me selfish? You've been the selfish one in this relationship, not me!"

"Excuse me?!" The box of orange juice in her hand slammed down on the counter before she had the chance to pour. The force caused some of the juice to slosh slightly out of the spouted opening. "How am I selfish, Sam? I'm working my ass off in the studio and at school, cooking and cleaning this place, and serving your sexual appetite on a regular basis. What else do you want from me? What else can I give?"

"You think that's what I want? You working yourself to death? I want _you_, Mercedes! I want your time! I want you happy, not the cooking or cleaning or the great sex!" Sam frowned at his own hasty choice of words. "At least not _all _the time! We haven't had sex in almost two weeks. Do you see me complaining?"

"No, but you're counting!" she pointed out, placing her hands on her hips. "Baby, I'm being stretched in like ten different directions. I'm giving you the most I can while managing the rest of my life and it's not easy. What, I'm selfish now because I can't be there whenever you want me to be there?"

"No, you're selfish because you pick and choose what you want to give me, not what _we _need! You're my first thought and I'm…I'm just an afterthought to you!" Sam exclaimed, frustrated with the ill turn in conversation. "Like graduation for example…."

"Oh god, I knew it. I knew you wouldn't let go of that one stupid mistake." Mercedes sighed, shaking her head. "I slip up _once_ and now I'm the perpetual bad guy."

"I'm not calling you the bad guy! I'm saying that you meet me in my bedroom after, put it on me for an hour, and expect me to be okay with it, like sex is some sort of replacement for missing an important event in my life. An event that you, may I add, encouraged me to go to!" Sam reminded her. "Look, I'm not asking for the impossible, Mercedes. I'm not asking for some robot fiancée that does everything perfectly and never messes up. _That_ would be selfish! I asked you for one day that mattered to me and you chose not to give it to me because it interfered with your important business meeting. I'm asking you to remember me in all of your major plans. You devote every second of your time to things that matter to you,_ except_ us. _That's _what's selfish," he finished. "You think about me when it doesn't interrupt thinking about you. I, on the other hand, consider you and your feelings in every decision I make."

"Oh, really? Like this job for example?" she questioned in challenge, sweeping her hand in front of her like his choice was standing right between them. "Unlike you, when I make mistakes, I own up to them right away. I called you and apologized profusely for what I did because I felt terrible about it. You know why? I _cared about your feelings_." She jabbed his chest with every word of the repeated phrase. "Everything afterward was….I don't know…my way of trying to remind you how special you still were to me. You kept this secret from me for months, lied to my face about it, and never _once_ mustered up the courage to own up to your shit. And now you want to pass it off on me, like I'm the only one putting their energy into everything other than the health of our relationship? _That's _what selfish is, Sam. What you did is _everything _selfish means."

A unsettling and quiet anger loomed between them, buzzing about in their skulls and prickling their skin. The explosion was a long time coming. Days had gone by without proper conversation, and both were just the right amount of tired and fed up to say everything that's been weighing on their minds.

Mercedes, the most exhausted of the two, couldn't maintain her hardened glare for too long. Soon, she broke down, lips quivering and tears clouding her vision as Sam's accusations ran through her mind. When did they turn into this? When had their relationship mirrored the volatile ones they'd seen around them? Communication was never an issue in high school. Time was always abundant and freely shared between them. Two years ago, she would have dropped everything else on her schedule to be there for Sam's graduation. Two weeks ago, she thought that Sam would never lie to her.

What happened?

Sam sensed her melancholy thoughts and the change in mood, and when her glassy eyes met the floor, he instantly dropped his guard and softened with concern. Gingerly, he stepped forward to reach for her arm, but Mercedes, startled by the sudden move, jumped back and jerked her hand away before they could touch. Her elbow knocked over the juice carton, spilling the entirety of its citrus contents all over their kitchen floor.

He sighed as she sucked her teeth and cursed under her breath."I'll get it." Sam tore off several sheets of paper towel and dropped to his knees to sop up the mess. Mercedes just watched him work, staring at the puddle and his moving hands until her accident disappeared.

_Her accident. _She was the one to end their summer romance, and Sam had to come back and fight for their love. She was the one who foolishly followed a strange boy to his car, to sign autographs of all things, and Sam tried his best to work with the fragmented pieces of her spirit. Her fault somehow always became his concern, his mess to clean up, and now he finally resented her for it. She dreaded this day, this moment when he'd wise up and realize that she wasn't the angel or princess he imagined her to be. He never demanded it of her, but she liked that image, and fought to prove that she could always be that way.

Part of the reason Mercedes was alone for so long was because it eliminated the need to answer to anyone. Now that she had Sam, a piece of her world revolved around him, too.

"I'm trying so hard to make this work, Sam," she croaked, voice marred by her tears. "I'm trying to be a success and pass school and keep you happy, but I can't. I can't do it all."

"I think that's the problem." Sam brushed past her to throw away the soaked paper towels and wash his hands. "When did I ever ask you to do it all?"

"You didn't." She ripped off a fresh piece of paper towel and handed it to him to dry his hands. "I just need to."

"I'm not your father, Mercedes." Sam turned off the faucet and faced her. "I'm not going to threaten to leave if you're not perfect. I'm here. Everything I do, even this job, is for us. I'm in this with you," he promised, cupping her cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry I kept this from you for so long and covered it up with half-truths. I won't do that again. But please, don't ever think for a second that I had any other agenda than to keep us happy. If I'm going to be your husband, I want to start building a life for us."

"But that has to include telling me the hard things, Sam," Mercedes insisted, shaking out of his comforting touch. "I'm building for us, too. If we're going to stand together, we can't be constructing separate houses. My bricks have to be your bricks. My cement has to be your cement. It won't work if we're not doing it together."

"Okay, I get that now. No more separate houses." Sam nodded, stepping forward. "Can this just be over and done with? Can we hug and make up now?"

"Sam…" Mercedes walked out of the kitchen, shaking her head as she moved towards their bedroom. "I had to find this out from my friends. The whole campus knew about this before I did. I had strangers come up to me and tell me that they just saw my fiancé in concert, singing love songs with Faith Hill! As much as I love you, I can't….. you don't really feel safe right now. You just…you feel like a liar. So no, we can't just hug and make up. I need time."

"Time …..away from me?" he asked in the smallest voice, hugging his own waist as he teetered from foot to foot. "Are we breaking up?"

Mercedes observed him for a moment before solemnly shaking her head. "No, we're not breaking up, Sam. I just want some time apart to process things, sort my feelings out. The way I'm feeling now, I'm afraid I'll say or do something I'll seriously regret. I'm asking you for space because I care about us and I'm too tired to think rationally right now. Can you give me that?"

Sam swallowed thickly, hating the idea, and curtly nodded. "Of course, yeah. I probably need to clear my head some, too. I'll be at my sculpture class for a while if you need me. It's about three hours long."

"I know, I remember. It's on your schedule on the wall," she replied in mild irritation. "I know some things about where you spend your time."

"Okay, I deserved that," Sam admitted, clearing his throat as he stared at the ground. "Do you think that you'll be ready to talk when I get back?"

"Yeah, I think so," agreed Mercedes, folding her arms. "I'm going to take a nap and pray a little bit. We should have enough time to talk before my classes start."

"Cool." Sam made his way to their bedroom to retrieve his art supplies, intentionally brushing his shoulder against hers as he passed. Mercedes, still irritated, elbowed his side before he moved away.

When he had his bag and jacket in hand, she stood in front of the doorway, watching him move. Sam tried to pass her to exit, but her left leg jutted out before he could leave.

"The roses you bought me last week are dying." She stated matter-of-factly. "You need to buy me new ones."

Sam bit away his small smile and gently nudged her leg down with his knee. " I think I can manage that. I'll bring you some when I come back. Are twelve fresh ones alright?"

Mercedes shrugged and glanced away. "Okay," she said softly. "Or three dozen. Y'know, whatever you think is best."

"I'm thinking that a smart man reads between the lines." He chuckled, then frowned when tears spilled over her cheeks."I messed up. It was a stupid secret to keep, but I swear it was only because I didn't want to get you upset."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "Did it work?"

"No," he replied, knitting his brows together. "I seem to have a habit of trying to avoid a problem, then falling right back into it on my ass. I'm sorry."

He watched her sigh and uncross her arms, but nothing in her expression suggested that he'd gotten anywhere closer to the heart of the matter. "Did you keep it from me because of who Faith is? Because she's Donovan's sister?"

Sam sucked his lips in and nodded, realizing his secondary error. "I was babying you, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, just a little bit," Mercedes replied in a sarcastic tone, pointing to the small space she made with her pointer finger and thumb. "I'm a big girl, Sam. I wouldn't have liked it, but I hate being treated like this fragile little creature that can't shoulder things even more. I told you, I've moved on. Donovan is my past now."

"I know that. I'm just not sure that he's mine," Sam confessed, surprising his fiancée. "I think the thought of Faith being his sister….just knowing that while I was working for her….it would have made me sick every day. I have to see her as who she is now, not who she was. It's the only way I can keep going."

"Are you still looking for other jobs like you said you were?"

"Every day I get the chance," he answered honestly. "So far, this is the only one flexible enough to work with my school schedule and high paying enough for me to keep my end of the rent. I don't want us to lose our home."

Mercedes' features softened the slightest bit at what his confession suggested. "Sam, you're not going to make us homeless. Don't worry about that."

"I know." Running his hand over his face with a heavy sigh, Sam leaned in to kiss her cheek and make his way out. "We'll talk more after I come back. Enjoy your nap."

"Enjoy your class," she softly responded, watching him turn the front door knob. "And hey…."

Sam paused behind the open door, eyes shining with hope and possible concealed tears of his own. "Yeah?"

"Just because I'm mad doesn't mean that I don't still…I mean…" She paused, afraid of how vulnerable her next words would sound. She was still stubbornly, unmovably mad at him, but her heart couldn't let him walk out the door with only the memories of her anger. Life was far too short, and the memory of Sam's head near the end of a gun reminded her of how quickly it could be taken. Gently, she concluded, "Don't let go of us yet, okay? I haven't."

Sam smirked and nodded, and his shoulders seemed to lose a bit of their tension. "I won't, I promise. I'm still in love with you, woman."

The lovers shared a look of understanding, one that promised a future conversation with far less bitterness between them. It was enough to allow Sam to leave in peace, knowing he would come back to his home and still find love waiting for him.

**O-O**

**I'm sorry for breaking your heart, but this discussion needed to happen. There's at least potential for happiness later, so it's something to hold onto. Next chapter should be up fairly soon, as soon as editing is done. That chapter will **_**really **_**leave your head spinning! **

**Thank you for reading, loves! I adore your lovely, insightful reviews. **


	38. Chapter 36 For Richer or Poorer (2 of 2)

**A/N: My apologies for the late posting, guys! This story, like my readers, have not been forgotten or tossed to the wayside. Despite the disappointment in canon from the show that will not be named here, I will continue finding inspiration elsewhere.**

**Since it's been awhile since my last update, and because this chapter and last chapter are directly connected, you may want to review chapter 35 for a refresher on the events of the story. Thank you for your loyalty and happy reading. **

**O-O **

As soon as Mercedes' weary head hit the pillow, everyone in her life decided to contact her via text and email, keeping her awake with the incessant alerting beeps from her phone. The first was from Unique, letting her know that he'd copied his history notes for her to use before their exam tomorrow. She texted a brief thank you and smiley face before Erin's text followed his, begging her to meet up while she was in town. She agreed to a day and time next week before shutting her eyes. Erin, being the talkative one, texted back and suggested that they have lunch with Faith. Mercedes didn't even have the energy or patience to rehash all the reasons why that was a terrible idea.

The next series of texts came from her glee posse, all berating her for abandoning them and begging her to return their calls. Santana sent the wordiest text of all (mostly in Spanglish) about how 'muy irresponsible' it was to leave her behind with all the 'simple, common, _estupida_ folk who sing like Rachel'. Despite her annoyance, that comment made her giggle.

The most frightening alerts came shortly, dinging one after the other in rapid succession. Her father had sent five emails, written in all caps, demanding that she call him right away. With all his military intelligence and technological prowess, Mr. Jones still couldn't figure out how to send a decent text.

"He's clearly getting old." Mercedes sighed, dialing his number. Her father's deep voice greeted her after the first ring. "Daddy? You wanted me to call you?"

"Do you know what I just received in the mail, young lady?" he growled, clearly already annoyed with her about something.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't sound good for me," she answered wearily, rubbing her eyes. "Daddy, can we talk about this later? I really need to get some sleep before class. I didn't get much last night because I was studying and doing promo work with the studio."

"That's exactly what I want to talk to you about. This studio work is affecting your grades. When we agreed on this music business, you promised me that wouldn't happen."

"I know. I'm trying really hard to keep that promise, daddy." Mercedes pleaded. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Not as bad? Really." She swallowed hard at the rustling of papers she heard on the other end. "Two B's and Three C's isn't so bad, Mercedes? Is this what I'm paying for? Mediocrity?"

"It was a rough semester." She pouted with a roll of her eyes. "You've never had one?"

"Don't sass me. I have every reason to be concerned."

"I'm not sassing you daddy. I'm asking you to give me a chance to make it right!" she insisted, folding her legs underneath her. "I mess up once, and you're treating it like I've always failed you."

"I never said that. Don't dare put words in my mouth," he growled, "And don't act like it's just this semester, either. Last year's report wasn't exceptional either, but it was far more acceptable than this."

"I got all B's last year, daddy. What did I do wrong?"

"You're a straight A student, Mercedes. Both of my children are straight A students. You haven't brought home a B since the fourth grade." He reminded her. "I'm really starting to think it's because you're over extending yourself."

"I'm not! Daddy, I can handle it. It's just...college is a lot more challenging," she argued weakly, anxiously clutching her phone with both hands.

"All the more reason to keep it as your sole focus, which brings me to my next point," Mr. Jones cleared his throat and adopted his business voice when he told her, "Either you sacrifice this recording deal and focus on school or I'm not paying for your education next year. I will not invest in laziness."

"Laziness?! How can you say that? You have no idea what I've been doing since I've come to UCLA and you've never asked! I've been busting my behind every day since I've been here!" she yelled, insulted and incensed by his accusations. "You always do this. Every time Jett and I do something you don't like, you give us these unfair ultimatums until you get your way. We're not robots!"

"No, you're Joneses," he said evenly. "And as such, I hold you to a certain standard. Now, if you want to throw away your life in this fickle music business, be my guest little lady. But do not expect me to fund your pipe dreams if you're not willing to get an education to fall back on. I'm not supporting any starving artists."

"Dad, I'm going to make it, in UCLA and in this business. Why don't you believe that? Believe in me?" Her voice decided to waver at the worst time, but her father seemed unaffected by it.

"I do believe in you. What I don't believe in is sub-par work. So, as I stated earlier, you have a choice to make," he repeated. "Do school only or support yourself."

"Daddy, that's not fair! My album is supposed to come out next month! You can't do this, not now!" she begged, tears fanning across her eyelashes and down her cheeks. "I can do better! I can bring my grades up!"

"This offer ends in five minutes. No exceptions." Mercedes had never heard her father sound so cold. It frightened her and sparked her stubborn fury.

"No need." Most days, her father was her haven. But some days, like today, he came huffing and grunting with sharpened horns aimed to pierce right through her. What he'd learn, what she'd teach him, was that her own horns had grown and could prove stronger and more resilient than his. "I'll support myself. I will improve my grades and keep working in the studio, with or without your help. I don't need you."

Silence. It was so powerful that, for a moment, her resolve faltered. Luckily, her father wasn't around to see her break.

"Give me the time," he asked quietly.

"I—I'm sorry?"

"The time, Ms. Jones." Mercedes blinked hard before checking the clock on her phone.

"It's ten minutes after twelve," she replied, a bit weaker than before.

"As of twelve ten today, you, Mercedes Jones, have voiced your refusal to comply with our agreed upon terms. Therefore, as of twelve ten today, I am officially resolved of all responsibilities as your financial support..." he stopped, gathering strength, before he concluded. "...and as your father."

"Daddy!"

"You are to address me as Mr. Jones after today! Your defiance has severed our relationship, and as such, I cannot continue to have you call me father. If you decide to change your mind in the future, we may correspond via email and agree on another conversation with a third party present. Until that time, we will have no further contact."

"How can you do this?!" Her cries built in her chest and constricted her heart, so tightly that Mercedes had to massage the area as she struggled to breathe. "I can't believe you! Today of all days, you call me with this...Do you know the day I've had today? Do you even care?!"

"Are our terms understood, ma'am?" he asked coldly. "Since you don't need my support or my parental guidance, I no longer see the purpose of our relationship."

"I thought you loved me," she whispered. "Why are you doing this?"

"I didn't do anything you didn't ask for," he clarified, his voice faltering as well. He rebounded quickly. "In words and in action, you've blatantly disregarded me as your father. What you'll soon learn in this life is that love is choice. You must choose to love and choose to receive it. Sometimes, to appreciate it, you must separate from those you care about. I'd hoped you learn from your mistakes more quickly, but I was wrong. Sadly, there are other ways to teach."

"So, that's what this is? A lesson?" Her father didn't bother to reply. "Fine. I've already learned, dad. In fact, I think I've kept this _lesson_ with me since I was little, when you threw my brother out of the house because he wouldn't date girls. What I've learned is that you're a hypocrite who only cares about people when it's convenient for you. That's not love, daddy. We're your children, not your soldiers. Yelling in our faces won't make us obey you, and leaving won't make us beg you to be our fathers again."

"I'm finished here. Goodbye, Ms. Jones. Have a nice life." And just like that, a dial tone separated them, and Mercedes felt more alone than she had in her entire life. She took her pillow and muffled her anguished screams, but relief never came. She tried screaming aloud, but the sound bounced off the walls and reminded her that there wasn't anyone around to frantically run in and check in on her. Tears wouldn't come any longer. The oxygen stolen from her lungs wouldn't return, no matter how much she breathed. Sleep felt like a distant and longed for memory.

Overwhelmed, Mercedes did the only thing she could think off. She crawled off her bed, fell to her knees, and counted away the panic attack under her breath as her mind conjured a prayer. Surely, even if she didn't know what to say, even if she couldn't speak, Godwould still care enough to listen. Unlike the stranger of a man that hung up on her, the father in heaven would never retract his hand.

**O-O**

Sam returned to the apartment whistling, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind that had single handedly destroyed his fiancée only hours prior. His work with clay did well to relieve his stress and relax him. Bree, his instructor, even gave a note of praise for the improvements to his newest sculpture. His attention to detail had come a long way, especially when it came to capturing the flowing lines of a human silhouette. The defined curvature of the work's body and beauty of its smile were both familiar and private knowledge. Sam protected his muse's modesty by withholding her name, but anyone with eyes on his fiancée would know exactly where his inspiration came from.

….Not that they should be looking too hard at her or anything. There would be no ogling of his future wife, not while Sam was around to pluck any wandering eyes from their sockets.

Some of his classmates jokingly suggested that he fashioned his life art after their instructor, but Bree's shape was unremarkable at best. She was more athletic in build, a bit boxy and plain by his standards. Her chest was sizable for her small frame, C cup at most, but her lack of hips left her looking a bit unbalanced. Pre-Mercedes Sam might've made a move on her, maybe even swooned over her quirkiness and abundant chest, but Post-Mercedes Sam had completely different standards. He needed someone with a bit more flavor in their step, a tad more jiggle in their thighs and backside when they walked. An hour glass figure wouldn't hurt, either.

Still, since they were both reasonably attractive, the other artists suspected some secret fling between them, despite Sam's insistence that he was happily engaged to someone else—someone who was _nothing like _their teacher. Even if she wasn't six years his senior, even if he was single and the whirlwind that was his love affair with Mercedes Jones hadn't sucked his heart into its vortex for all eternity, it wouldn't be appropriate. She was his teacher—his _recently widowed_ teacher—and her commitment to her deceased husband would've been enough to kill any chances of romance. Hadn't they heard her endless ramblings about Brett? Been there when she read one of his love letters aloud in class to 'inspire their creative works'? She was in the process of carving a mile long memorial sculpture out of marble for him for crying out loud, nearly _four years _in the making! What were they thinking?

Ironically though, it was her dedication to her beloved Brett that had started their first dialogue outside of the art room. He was moved by her grief, and it forged a unique bond between them that evolved into friendship. He knew what it meant, what it felt like, to love that hard and sympathized with her pain. Maybe to those observing, they could appear a bit couple-like, always talking animatedly and hovering in each other's space. But he and Bree knew that the only passions between them existed for arts, nothing more.

Plus, her bright eyed, toddling son Connor wouldn't allow it. He staked his claim as the only man occupying his mother's heart. Often, she'd bring him in to class and set him down on a small stool with his own small lump of clay, only because he refused to be anywhere else but by her side at all times.

That little tyke wore his father's dog tags extra close to his heart, and the way his eyes would brighten when Bree mentioned his father's name gave Sam a painful ache in his belly. How could a man leave his son behind? What kind of tormented thoughts go through the mind of someone who takes their own life, forsaking all those who love them? Connor was only a few days old when his father passed, too young to understand that death could be chosen, but his mother's stories painted him in the most positive light. To him, his daddy was a superhero, an ex-marine that had laid down his life for his country. To him, Brett would always be immortal. Any other man in their lives would only get in the way of the illusion.

No matter. Sam refused to pay the idle talk any mind. He knew where his loyalties lie.

"Mercy?" he called, hanging his keys on their designated hook next to the door for once as he toed off his shoes. "I brought you your flowers, baby. Three dozen fresh yellow roses, just like you asked. Ready to talk?"

When he didn't receive a reply, Sam shrugged off his jacket, shuffling the large bouquet of yellow roses between hands, and hung it up in their coat closet. In the brief moment of silence after he closed the door, he heard his love's sniffles coming from the bedroom.

"Mercedes?" Carefully, he pushed the door open and peeked in, afraid of disturbing her. For all Sam knew, he was the one that had caused her tears. "Baby, please don't cry. Please, I'm sorry. I know I said some harsh things, but I didn't mean them. I had some time to think in class and I realized that…"

The startling crunch of glass beneath the doorframe made him pause. Large, splintered pieces of what appeared to be Mercedes' flower vase decorated the entire bedroom floor. He knew it well. Since they'd settled into their new apartment, it sat perched on the windowsill in the bedroom on proud display and was never disturbed. The colorful staining and carefully etched shapes on each piece gave it away.

Sam felt for the light switch on the wall, recoiling when he realized it was wet to the touch. The tiniest bit of glass shard pricked his thumb, and as he removed it he realized that the broken vase hadn't been an accident. It had been intentionally thrown against the wall. The place of impact still held the tiniest glass splinters as evidence. His soaked sock as he stepped further into the room confirmed his suspicions. Just where he stepped, water had dripped down the wall and pooled under his feet.

"What happened?" he asked, wiping his wet hand on his jeans as he hopped over the mess. He reached down to remove his wet sock once he was a safe distance away before addressing his betrothed."Did you do this, Mercy?"

Their eyes hadn't met since he surveyed the room, but when she sniffled again, Sam realized that she was huddled up on the far side of their bed, hugging her knees with red-rimmed eyes. Tracks of old tears still reflected on her cheeks in the evening sunlight from their window, but it was obvious that she had stopped crying a while ago. Still, she sniffled, with her unblinking stare focused on the broken mess in front of her.

"I made that vase for him on Father's day." she quietly uttered, rocking slightly on the heels of her feet. Her grip tightened around her legs as she shrunk into herself. "He told me I could take it with me when I came to campus….to remember the good times, so that I wouldn't forget….." Her voice broke in anguish before she paused, and Sam was at her side and in her personal space almost immediately afterward. "…how proud he was of me…how proud he was to be my dad."

"He's still proud," Sam assured her, cupping and stroking her cheeks. She had days like this in the past, when she needed to hear that her thoughts were lies, that the way she viewed herself wasn't the way others viewed her. "Who wouldn't be? You're amazing."

"He left me, Sam!" she cried, pressing her eyelids with the heels of her hands to kill the flow of tears. When had she become so easy to break? So exposed to hurt? "Because of my grades…I didn't do well enough and he just left me. He said that he's not my father anymore."

"Are you serious?" His stomach churned at her nod and the sharp, anguished intake of breath that followed. "Mr. Jones said that to you? Are you sure you didn't misunderstand him?" What she was saying didn't make any sense at all. Sam had a hard time believing that the man who placed a tracking device on him to make sure his daughter was safe at prom, who gave him such sage advice about being a man and fatherhood, could do something so heartless. His brain couldn't match the words to the man he knew.

Mercedes dried her tears on the sleeve of her wrinkled blouse and explained, "I called him a couple hours after you left. He sent me emails, asking me to call him. When I did, he yelled at me about my grades and told me that as of ten after twelve today, he's relinquished all responsibilities as my financial support and my father. I'm supposed to call him Mr. Jones now. Could I misinterpret that, Sam?" The question wasn't rhetorical. Her eyes begged Sam to find an explanation, a loophole that she hadn't seen to prove that she had indeed misunderstood her father. She desperately wanted to be wrong about him, about what she heard, because she couldn't match the words to the man she knew either.

Sam slowly wrapped his arms around her shivering frame and pulled her close to him, stunned to silence. Taking a moment to recover, he slowly began to rub gentle circles on her back in comfort. It was the only thing he could think of. "No, I don't think you can misunderstand that."

Mercedes clung to Sam's frame and buried her face in his neck, inhaling his comforting scent before a singular sob escaped her. She only allowed herself one, a single gasp of mourning, before continuing to weep in silence. Sam felt the tears dribble down his shirt and reached out to cradle the back of her head, aligning her ear with his mouth and the soft, soothing hush sounds they made just for her. She felt so small in his arms, curled up into a shivering little ball beside him. Mr. Jones had single handedly made his strong, self assured fiancée regress in ways Sam hadn't seen since her assault. Anger flared in his belly, rapidly consuming his insides, until no familial feeling was left behind for the man. All Sam felt was hatred, and unconsciously, his grip protectively tightened around Mercedes' body.

She sensed the tension and glanced up at him, knowing immediately what was going through his mind by the rapid clenching of his jaw. "Don't do that, baby. Don't hate him. It's not worth it," she pleaded, kissing the flexing muscles until he looked down at her. His eyes, dark and unfocused, shifted across her soft face before he dismissively huffed through his nose.

"I do hate him. I hate him for what he's doing to you," he said, biting down until the tiny veins creeping up his neck grew more pronounced. "A father doesn't just walk away from their child, not ever. Maybe you can forgive that, but I can't. I respected him." Sam had some terrible fights with his father in the past—some that had even, shamefully, gotten physical—but he'd never once had to worry about his dad leaving him. In fact, his father would insist that they reconcile and hug it out before they went to bed. That was the kind of man he was. It was the kind of man Sam hoped to be, the kind of man he thought Mr. Jones was.

_You never go to bed angry and you never abandon your family-_Unspoken Evans' rules emblazoned on his heart. As a future husband and father himself, Sam now realized the weight and importance of those promises.

"I'm not a child anymore, Sam." Mercedes explained with a shake of her head. "I'm an adult with a career on the horizon who can take care of herself if she has to. I made sure he understood that. Maybe now he'll respect my choices."

"It's still not an excuse, Mercy!" Sam angrily spat, "I would never leave you like that. Family is everything. Family shouldn't ever do that to each other."

Butterflies always fluttered in her belly when Sam referred to himself as her family. As distraught as she was, the comment warmed her, prompting the smallest of smiles. "You're my family now, Sam. We're going to be a family, all on our own."

His anger mellowed at her hopeful words. "Yes, we are. We'd never do that to each other." he promised, firmly kissing her forehead. "Did your mom say anything about this?"

"I haven't spoken to her yet, but I'm sure she's heard by now," shrugged Mercedes, "I'll call her when I feel up to it. If she doesn't call me first, that is."

Mercedes moved to untangle herself from Sam's grasp, but he held her tighter, rooting her to her seat. "Sam?"

"You're not selfish. You're not." he told her, both in apology for his earlier words and as a fact of her character. "But I do think that you're doing too much sometimes. I don't agree with how he handled it, but I do think that your dad ….has a point? Maybe?"

"_Ex_-dad," she reminded him, sighing. "And I know. I've been thinking about that, too." Russet eyes met green, begging for honesty when she asked, "Do you think I can manage them both? My schoolwork and my album, without either of them suffering?"

"I think you can do anything you set your mind to, Mercy." He answered honestly, without hesitation. "I think that you've been extremely blessed by God to be amazing at a lot of things. And I think that nothing should stop you from achieving your dreams, not me or your dad or anybody."

"I hear a _but_ somewhere in there," Mercedes lightly joked, though his sure words made her feel infinitely better about her choices. "What's the _but_ in this?"

"_But_, I do think that you need some balance. Just because you're superwoman and can do it all doesn't mean that you should kill yourself trying to. I mean, I'm pretty sure you're not sleeping or eating well enough to function, and you know that bothers me. When I come home from work and see you, you're practically in a coma! It's not good, babe." Sam traced the bridge of her nose, tapping the rounded tip. "From the way you're working, trust me, something's gonna give out. I'm just really scared that it's going to be you. Believe me, I'm speaking from experience here."

Mercedes nodded, taking in his words. "So, what do you think I should do? Advise me."

"You're asking for _my_ advice?" Mercedes nodded again, frowning in confusion.

"Of course. I think you're more knowledgeable about worldly things than I am, so I trust your judgment. I'm still feeling this whole adulthood thing out and you've done some of it already, at least the working part. I'm not ashamed to say I need help making decisions."

Her request meant more to him that she could even fathom. Not only was Mercedes asking _him _for advice, the perpetual screw up in their relationship, but she was asking it without an ounce of doubt. She respected his opinion enough to consider it, even possibly follow it.

She still respected him, even after he'd done everything possible to lose said respect, and that meant the world to Sam.

"Well, I think that you should start setting limits. Dr. Taylor used to talk to me about setting proper boundaries, so that the people in my life knew where I stood. Take your studio time for example. Reese is your manager. If he had the chance, he would take every second of your time and dedicate it to making music because that's his job. But it's your job as the artist to tell him when you're overworked. How is he going to know unless you say something?"

"That's true." She mused, nodding in agreement.

"I also think that we both need to set aside some more time for us. And before you say it, it's not just about sex. I miss _you_. I miss being able to talk to you about nothing and laughing with you. I feel like every conversation we've had lately has been about bills or school or work."

"That's because it has been. And then we end up arguing about it." Mercedes sighed, rubbing her aching eyes. "When did this happen? When did we turn into..."

"Adults?" Sam smirked, kissing her forehead. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I think it happens overnight. The innocence sheds like skin while you're sleeping, until you wake up one day and realize you have grey hairs growin' out your nose and you smell like Bengay."

"I still want to have the kid moments, though," Mercedes admitted. "We've been working so hard that we've missed out on alot of the things college kids enjoy. I mean, think about it. Since that frat party, we haven't had a weekend out with friends in _months_. It's not healthy."

"I feel like we hardly see the sun anymore." Sam ruefully laughed. "We definitely need to change that."

"And I'd hate to add more to our plate but….if we can both set aside the time, do you think we can go in for some counseling? You and me together?"

"Couple's counseling? You think it would help?" Sam asked back, more curious than doubtful of the suggestion. Mercedes nodded, anxiously nibbling the corner of her bottom lip. "Alright, we can start looking for places tomorrow. Maybe you can call Bee and she can suggest someone."

"Good idea. She might know people." Mercedes agreed, suppressing a yawn. "I'm so tired, Sam. You know what I mean? I'm so tired of being tired, too."

"I know." Sam replied, knowing she meant more than just physically. "The job with Faith…..I was trying to ease some of that. It felt like you were doing everything for a while and I wanted to give something back. I wanted to prove to you that I could be a good husband."

"Hey, of course you can be. You will be." she chided softly, nudging his chin with her nose. He glanced down, frowning a bit when she started to lean in, before allowing her to comfort him with a gentle kiss. "You're going to be an awesome husband, I just know it. Don't ever worry about that."

" I hear a_ but _somewhere in there, too." He smiled, initiating a soft kiss of his own. "What is it?"

"_But, _you have to be honest with me. No more secret jobs or insecurities you don't tell me about. No more doing on your own. No more building separate houses, Sam," she insisted, running her thumb across his pursed lips.

"You either. No more building separate houses." He argued back, curling his fingers around her wrist to bring each of her fingers to an awaiting kiss. "No more working yourself to death and trying to prove to your dad or me or whoever the hell else doesn't matter that you can make it without any help. Stop killing yourself. It's you and me now, okay? I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon, so I promise you, you're never alone."

Her chin quivered at his profession. "I don't plan on letting you go, either," she whispered with glassy eyes. The two shared a small, grateful smile.

"Well, alright, alright! It's settled. Mr. and Mrs. Evans have decided." She rolled her eyes as he rested his chin atop her head and laid them down on the pillows, but said nothing to correct him. "And since we're going back to being brutally honest, I have something else to confess. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I didn't get the chance to."

Mercedes pushed herself up to face him. The fear in his tone told her that she'd need to be fully alert for his news. "Okay, go ahead."

Sam sighed, hating himself for the habit of bearing bad news. "I got the chance to sing with Faith onstage in front of her audience."

"I know. I saw the video," she informed him, quirking her brow.

"Wait, what? I've been stressing about this all day and you knew? Where did you find it?" Sam asked, sitting up himself. "No wait, someone told you, didn't they?"

Mercedes chuckled at his slow deduction. "And you say_ I_ suck at lying. Boy, please. Who do you _think_ told me?"

Sam eyes roamed the ceiling in thought for a minute before a name struck him, and the name in question made him face palm himself for the oversight. "Oh my god, how the hell did I forget Erin?" He groaned, smacking his forehead repeatedly. "I remember everyone except her freaking sister…Seriously, Sam?"

"Yeah, seriously indeed," smiled Mercedes, laughing in her throat and poking his chest. "If you're gonna sneak a lie past me, the ultimate lie detector, then you have to step your game up."

"Naturally." He chuckled back, shaking his head at his own idiocy. "Well, I don't think she told you that Faith's manager offered me a record deal after we got off stage."

"No, that I found out from Unique," Mercedes said pointedly, checking of his name from some invisible checklist with her finger. "One of my many sources."

"Remind me to never, ever try to keep things from you again, because I suck at it." Sam complained, covering his reddening face with both hands.

Mercedes spaced his fingers apart until they opened like shutters and revealed his troubled eyes. "Well, in all fairness, I only found out a couple of weeks ago. You've been holding this back from me for months now, so you're better than you think," she told him, "But don't take that as a compliment or anything."

"I only kept the job secret for months, not the record deal part. That just happened, I swear." Sam hurriedly explained. "And I haven't made a decision yet. I told them that I need to talk to my wife first."

"Fiancée, Sam," she corrected, rolling her eyes yet again as she nibbled the upturned corner of her mouth.

Sam rolled his eyes right back, crossing them in the process to bring out that suppressed smile. He succeeded, snorting laughter and all. "Same thing, woman. Hopefully that'll change soon, once your CD gets out there and wins you your first Grammy."

"Yeah hopefully, if you act right," she sassed, playfully pinching his nose. "So, do you want it?"

" What? The record deal or the wedding?" Twinkling eyes roamed her body. "Unless you're offering something else?"

She sighed, amazed by his magical gift of changing her mood for the better. "The _record deal_, Sam. I didn't know you were interested in pursuing music as a career"

"To be honest, I'm not really interested in it. Not long term at least." He shrugged. "I'm still focused on the visual end of the arts. But, music seems to pay more and gives me the option of staying local, which means less time on the road. I get my summers and weekends free, benefits… the way I see it, it means more time and a better life for us, and I'm always here for that."

"So you're taking this deal for us?" Mercedes asked in amazement. "So we can be together more often?"

"Of course. Why else would I take it? I mean I like music, but I don't love it like I love you."

All of the doubts that Unique's comments had placed in her mind were instantly thrown to the wayside, and Mercedes regretted the fact that she ever doubted who she knew Sam to be. Sam may not be perfect, but he was selfless and loving to the point of sacrifice. That hadn't changed, and Mercedes felt surer than ever that it never would.

"I love you, too. Even more than my music." She said softly, eyes shining for him as if he'd opened up the universe and shown her its wonders. "You don't need my permission to pursue a record deal, Sam."

"Yes, I do. I want it." he insisted, taking both of her hands in his. "This will affect both of our lives, in a good way! I didn't include you in my first decision to take the stage hand job, which I'm still really sorry about by the way, so I wanted you to be a part of this one. I want to know what you think. Should I take it?"

"I think you should, but only if it makes you happy too. As sweet as it is for you to do this for us, I want you to like it. I want it to be fun for you." expressed Mercedes, sliding her fingers through his. "Studio work can take a lot out of you. If you don't enjoy it, then the work won't give you the energy you need to keep going. Do it because you want to, because it's a secret dream of yours that you've always wanted to explore."

Sam smiled at the way she lit up over her own advice. Briefly, his mind conjured images of what Mercedes might have been like as a child. He could imagine her wearing her mom's heels and oversized sunglasses, singing into a hairbrush in front of the mirror. "Well, I do enjoy singing. Not as much as you do, but I do like it. It's creative and fun, like another outlet for energy. I dig it." Sam stated , hopping off the bed and pulling her up to stand with him. Both were careful of the sharp glass shards around their feet. "And I'd be lying if I said that the little Sam in me isn't jumping up and down about being a rock star for a little bit."

"Well then, I say go for it! Who knows? You might find a new passion," Mercedes encouraged, smiling. "I'm behind you all the way, baby."

"Thank you. That's all I needed to hear." Sam smiled back, nudging her nose with his in an Eskimo kiss. "You know what I don't dig, though?"

She massaged one of his pectorals, lightly squeezing and toying with a nipple, before stealing a kiss. "What?"

"Glass splinters in my feet." The couple glanced at the floor, wearing twin grimaces over the mess around them. "It's a good thing that we didn't carpet the floor."

"That was because of cost. It wasn't an interior decorating decision, Sam." Mercedes laughed, hopping over the mess with a surprisingly agile leap to the doorway.

"I _know _that. If it was up to you, we'd be ceiling high in faux fur, and I ain't havin' that. Shit cost too much anyway. I could've had a couple of my cousins skin a couple of raccoons and make a carpet for half of what that company wanted to charge us." Sam argued, leaping to the spot beside her. "I'm just saying, good thing we didn't."

"Country hick cheapskate with no taste, I swear. How'd I get saddled with you again?" she teased, kissing his cheek. "Why don't you get the broom and dustpan from the bathroom and I'll get the small trashcan and a garbage bag from the kitchen. We'll clean up this mess together."

Sam followed her with his eyes as she walked away, enjoying her lighter voice and more buoyant step.

"You mean the mess _you _made all by yourself? No fair!" Sam playfully remarked when she was a good distance away. "If I get a cut, you're gonna have to kiss it better!"

"Just shut up and get the broom, you baby!" she huffed, laughing. "I promise, I'll kiss all of your boo-boos when we're done."

Sam retrieved the broom and dustpan as his fiancée requested, sauntering into the kitchen just as she was bent over and reaching for a garbage bag in the cabinet underneath their sink.

A hand crept around her waist, surprising her enough to nearly cause her head to hit the sink pipes. She eased out with a garbage bag in hand, ready to rebuke him, only to find herself pulled against his hard front and wrapped in his arms. The soft nibble to her ear muddled the stern call of his name, until it blended into a quiet, appreciative hum.

"Sa-ammmm…."

"If you tell me where all your boo-boos are, I can kiss them for you, too," he offered, pressing kisses along the shell of her ear and down her neck. "If you want."

"I want." She eagerly nodded, and the evidence of two neglectful weeks to her sex dribbled down her thighs and perfumed the air around them. Fingers slid through his silky strands, pulling his mouth closer to hers until the warmth of their breaths mingled together. Lust-filled eyes met and held, then softened as they always did when the love between them flooded their systems, before she finished, "But I'm pretty sure you've already healed me, Sam."

**O-O**

Mercedes had less than a day to cope with Sam's secrets and the loss of her father, but somehow she'd managed to set up a course of action and plan her next steps before her afternoon class. For a woman with an intense disdain for surprises, it was a lofty feat.

What she couldn't foresee or plan for were the changes going on in her record label. News broke over the weekend that Mr. Simmons himself wanted to change the direction of DMC's sound, shifting their focus from neo-soul and R&B to more old school rap and hip-hop. The CEO stated that he wished to 'get back to his roots' and bring up a new generation of lyrical poets with messages that could change the world. Unfortunately, artists currently on the label that didn't fit into this new image would be placed on the back burner or dropped altogether. Mercedes was among the group, but her talent and drive made her label reluctant to let her go completely. Reese, her manager, called her early Saturday morning and broke the news.

"Look, the good thing is that they still want you. The work on your album is still here, ready to be released. Whether or not it will be released under your current record label is to be decided, but that's completely your call. Songbird, don't stress just yet." Reese gave all of his artists unique nicknames and used them whenever he needed to handle their emotional matters. "Some of the new rappers need vocalists for their hooks. That could be your segway into solo work again!"

"Reese, I didn't spend over a year writing and recording my work just so I can go back to shimmying and swaying in other people's shadows! I did that all throughout high school," Mercedes fumed. "What about me as an artist? What about my work? I thought this deal meant that DMC believed in my vision."

"It does! They don't ever want you to doubt that for a second. But their vision for the company as a whole has changed." Reese explained, trying his best to break down the terrible news until it was palatable. "Look, I shouldn't even be telling you this, but Mr. Simmons is thinking of opening a separate division for his original artists. As business as he is, he's also a caring man who respects an artist's hard work. He knows your talent, Mercedes. Your work has passed his desk many times and he likes what he hears. You can either wait to see where they take you or you can try and market your music to other labels. Whatever you decide, I'm behind you all the way."

The artist herself sighed, weighing her options. "Would money be an issue for me if I stayed?"

"I want to say no, but I can't speak for them."

"When is this subdivision for artists like me expected to start up?"

"No idea. Maybe a month or two?" Reese replied. All the unanswered questions fueled her anxiety.

"I have an apartment and school to think about, Reese. I'm building a life here. I can't just wait around and hope for the best, you know?" Mercedes reasoned aloud.

"Look, I hear you. If I were you, I'd probably leave and try my hand somewhere else. All I can say is that DMC is one of the few labels that will give you the creative freedom you're looking for. There's never any pressure to change your image or your message here. Do you know how hard that is to find? If you go looking elsewhere….be prepared to change yourself, that's all I'm saying. You'll be shucking and jiving like the rest of these talented, white-washed clowns in the business."

"You know I don't want that." Mercedes sighed, nibbling her lip as she thought of what Sam would think. "My fiancée would kill me if I compromised my music."

"Yeah, Sam would. I've never seen a white boy _that _loyal to his lady, not in all of Hollywood." Her manager chuckled. "He'd be right to have your head. A gift as unique as yours shouldn't be watered down."

Mercedes agreed wholeheartedly, but real life reminded her of the weight of her decisions. She couldn't just stick to principle and be content with being broke. As well as Sam would get paid being an artist himself, she couldn't see herself relying on only his income to support them both. She was definitely the heavier spender of the two and liked using her own money for expensive purchases. It eliminated the guilt of wasting someone else's money.

Plus, her dad still believed that she couldn't make it on her own. _Ex-_dad, if she were being particular. Getting her career started on her terms meant more than the money it would bring in. She needed to do this to prove that she was right, that she could achieve everything she wanted without his support.

Staying with DMC records meant a possible unsteady paycheck and an unsure future, but leaving might mean compromising her music and image. The thought made her stomach churn.

"Can I have some time to think about this? Talk it over with Sam?"

"Of course, songbird. And like I said, whatever you decide to do, keep me in the loop. I want to go wherever you're going, superstar."

Mercedes smiled at his encouraging words. "I appreciate that, Reese. You've taught me a lot so far. I consider you a friend."

"Always, Ms. Jones. Always," he crooned in his velvet soft baritone register. "Keep in touch and don't give up just yet."

**O-O**

Mercedes spent the next couple of days locked up in her room after classes, praying and jotting down her thoughts in her journal. Sam agreed to give her the space she needed to decide and tried his best to be as supportive as possible—cleaning up around the apartment, preparing meals, and anything else he read on the internet that would foster an anxiety free atmosphere for his lady. On occasion, he'd fill up the silence with light strums of his guitar, and Sam loved the way her eyes would light up and dance as he played, even if she couldn't muster up the energy to sing along. But apart from the normal pleasantries, his usually talkative partner would remain silent for hours at a time, brooding over her dilemma.

"Hey, hey! The cavalry's here with breakfast!" announced Sam, balancing the food tray in one hand as his back held the door open. The orange juice, poured in a glass pitcher for the sake of being fancy, occupied his other hand.

Mercedes held up a finger to silence him, quietly murmuring the end of her prayer before she rose from her knees and greeted him.

"You made me breakfast again? Thank you baby," she cooed, kissing his cheek. Her warm grin was a welcome sight. "What are we having today? Lucky Charms or Cinnamon Toast Crunch?"

"No, even better. Today, the chef decided to challenge himself with a hot breakfast." Sam rested the tray on their dresser and handed her a plate filled with food. "I present to you eggs, scrambled to perfection and loaded with cheese the way you like it, with blueberry pancakes made almost from scratch and four strips of crispy turkey bacon," he announced impressively, pleased with his accomplishments.

"Wow!" she laughed. "You really went all out! Thank you Monsieur Evans, your cuisine looks absolutely divine."

"And…" Mercedes had already situated herself in bed and dug into her eggs, not expecting anything more, when Sam walked over with a large, steaming bowl filled to the brim. "Apples and cinnamon oatmeal!" he sang, waving the bowl underneath her nose. "It's your favorite, right?"

"Sam! You're gonna stuff me!" she exclaimed, eyeing the mountain of food with a disbelieving laugh. Still, she couldn't help a subtle sniff, and the fragrance of warm apple and spicy cinnamon delighted her senses. "This smells amazing."

"It's mostly from a packet, but it's not the cheap stuff. I found that expensive steel cut organic one you like from an Amish market that costs, like, five bucks. Then, I bought an apple, cut it up without butchering my fingers, and added the cinnamon. Hope you don't mind." He shrugged bashfully. "I just want to make sure you're eating well."

"I'm eating just fine." Mercedes leaned over to cup his cheek and peck his lips. "Thank you baby. You're too good to me."

"No such thing." His large hand gripped the small spoon and clumsily stirred the hot cereal, mixing in the cinnamon added on top until everything blended together. Sam scooped up a hefty spoonful and blew on it lightly, aiming for Mercedes' chewing mouth. "Open up! Yummy goodness express coming your way!"

"Sam, I'm already eating…" He eased the spoon into her mouth before she could tell him that it was already full. Her cheeks puffed out adorably as she chewed. "Mphf ooo."

"You're welcome," nodded Sam, sampling a spoonful of oatmeal himself. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten to give himself the same courtesy of cooling it off before consuming. "Ah!"

Mercedes swallowed quickly and hit his back. "Baby, are you okay?" she choked out, patting her own chest as she coughed. "Too fast?"

Sam hollowed his mouth, fanning his scalding tongue as he took in cooling breaths. "Hawt," he answered, swallowing quickly. The oatmeal was still just as scalding as it slid down his throat. "Shit, that hurt."

"Sorry," chuckled Mercedes, though she had nothing to apologize for. His pained face was as amusing as it was adorable. "Do you want some orange juice?"

"Please." She rested her plate in his lap before walking to the dresser to pick up the abandoned pitcher of juice and the empty glass beside it. "Oh wait, I was supposed to…."

"It's fine," she told him, filling the glass and handing it to him. "You already made me breakfast. The least I can do is get you juice."

Sam took the glass with a grateful smile. "Thank you." He silently toasted to her before downing the cold beverage in several gulps. "I needed that."

"I can see." She laughed, rustling his hair before re-occupying her seat. "Now, let's try this again." She took the bowl from his lap, scooping up another spoonful of oatmeal. Sam laughed at the exaggerated pucker of her lips as she blew to cool it down. "Here you go."

Sam opened wide and accepted her feeding, smiling around the spoon when the temperature of the cereal registered on his tongue. Ever greedy, Sam stuffed half a pancake and a forkful of eggs in as well, moaning and chewing. His cheeks puffed out as hers did earlier. "Mphf ooo."

"You're welcome, Sam," she said warmly, dabbling away the small trace of syrup on his lip with her thumb. "I really needed this."

Sam observed Mercedes as she enjoyed the food he prepared, taking a few moments to properly chew himself, before swallowing and asking, "Anything new today?"

Asking if there was anything new today was Sam's careful way of checking to see how her decision-making process was going. When he'd asked her in the days before, her response was typically a dismissive 'nothing new', but today, she had an actual answer. "Yeah, actually. I've decided to stay awhile and shift my focus towards school."

"Really? You're staying?" Sam asked in reply, surprised by her decision. The way she'd been stressing over her studio work led him to assume that she'd seek other labels. He would have agreed with her. Her voice and her work needed to be heard. "You sure about this?"

"I'm not too sure about anything anymore, not at the moment," she mirthlessly laughed, resting her chin atop her propped fist as she faced him. "For the first time in my life, I'm just trusting God completely with this decision. I've been praying about it and writing down what I've heard in my prayer time. I know it doesn't make sense, but I feel lead to stay. I'm not sure why yet, but I feel that this is where I need to be."

"What about money?" asked Sam. Her eyebrows rose and knit together. "I'm only asking because I know it's important to you to have your own. Not that I would mind supporting us, if it came to that."

"No, I know." Mercedes gently waved away his unnecessary explanation. "I know you wouldn't. And you're right, I do want to have my own money to spend. I want to be able to take care of myself if I need to, even if that means finding other work outside of the label in the meantime. It might sound terrible, and I don't mean it to be, but I need to know that I'd be okay financially if you weren't around to help. Especially after the stunt my father pulled…."

Sam gently squeezed her arm, nodding in understanding. "I get it. I'd do the same thing if that happened to me."

Mercedes frowned and nodded, returning to her meal in another bout of contemplative silence. Sam scooted closer, until her shoulder touched his arm, and finished his breakfast alongside her. Neither said a word until their dishes were clean—Sam with the plate of food and Mercedes with the hot cereal—but occasional swaps of oatmeal for pancakes or eggs passed between them. The more time they spent together, the more Sam realized that Mercedes actually looked forward to the little things he did, like when he'd try to feed her. On some days, when she was feeling particularly needy but couldn't voice it, he almost felt that she expected it of him. It was small, but knowing that fulfilled his desire to care for her. He liked the thought of filling an empty space inside of her, of being the only one that could address that emptiness.

Before his thoughts could make him too mushy, he gathered the dishes and left her with a quick kiss on the cheek, making his way to the kitchen to place them in the sink. He returned shortly after, reclaiming his seat. "I'll wash them up in a minute. Don't worry about it."

Another grateful smile and nod before Mercedes returned to writing in her journal. "I miss him, you know," she quietly admitted after a while, pen never stopping its motion on paper. "What he said and did hurt me so much, but I want him back in my life. I hate that."

Her confession about her father was more than Sam had gotten in the past couple of days, so he sat down quietly and waited for her to sort out the rest of her thoughts, careful not to interrupt her.

"I even thought about calling him and apologize. Isn't that crazy? For what, I don't know. I guess I just wanted to go back to the way things used to be, before I said whatever I did to push him away…."

After a few silent moments assured him that she'd finished, Sam asked, "Do you think that they'll ever go back to the way they used to be after this?"

She sighed, grappling with the same thought herself. "I don't think so," she said with a watery chuckle, eyes never leaving her journal. "It kills me to believe that, but…how do you forget that your father would abandon you if he had the chance? He dropped my brother Jett, then me, and didn't even give us the courtesy of a warning or explanation. One day I'm his baby girl and the next….." she angrily rubbed the tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand, "…the next, he's just Mr. Jones to me. And I'm….nothing, I'm alone."

"You're not _nothing_," sighed Sam, pulling her into a firm hug. "And you're definitely never alone. You still have your mom and friends. _My_ family loves you to death, I know that." She sniffled and tucked her head underneath his chin, resting against his neck. "And you know you'll always have me. I'm always in your corner, Mercy. You know that."

She did know. Of all the issues she had to deal with these past couple of months, from moving to a new apartment to handling the loss of her father, Sam was never anywhere else but beside her. Even his lie about working with Faith had been concocted in what he felt was her best interest. Misguided as it sometimes was, Sam was one of the few people in her life that sought after her needs first, even before his own. Her life was so unsteady now, so murky and turbulent, but Sam stood rooted beside her and cheered her on along the way. Every word he spoke into her life gave her the strength she needed to keep going. Her fiancé made everything peaceful, convinced her to accept the inconsistencies in life that would usually cause her to panic.

"You're a good man, Sam Evans," she whispered lovingly, looking up to meet his kind eyes. "And you're going to be a great husband someday."

"Someday soon, hopefully." He smiled, kissing her nose. "Oh! And before I forget, I have something special for you. You left it in storage, but I figured you'd need it, so…"

Sam hopped out of bed and disappeared in the coat closet near their door, grunting as he wrestled out something rather heavy and sizable hidden deep inside.

Her eyes widened when he brought his special surprise into the room and set it on the bed. "My keyboard!" she gleefully exclaimed, unaware of how much she'd missed it until then. "When did you get this?"

"I went yesterday evening. I was off work and you were in class…hid it in the back of the closet behind some of the junk I have in there so you wouldn't find it." He smirked, pleased with his own cleverness."Maybe if you start playing again, things won't feel so confusing and you'll find your way again."

Mercedes had no words for how much the gesture had touched her soul. "But Sam, we don't have any space for it."

"We'll make room. It's important to you," argued Sam, situating himself behind her. He hugged her waist as she leaned back against him, pressing his cheek to hers as her hands idly wandered over the piano keys. "Would you play something for me?"

Three of her fingers separated and fell as one, playing a major chord. "What do you want to hear?"

He admired her profile, smiling as he nudged the side of her head with his nose. "Whatever's going on up there."

She wrinkled her nose and nudged him back, sneaking in a kiss while their lips were in close proximity. "I think I can do that."

Her lips pursed as she ran through song choices in her head before she settled on one that fit. "I haven't played this one in a while, so it might sound messy, but I think it fits how I feel."

Sam didn't recognize the tune right away, but as soon as he heard the words, he knew that, coupled with her voice, his emotions would be in disarray once the song was done.

**_All I know_**

**_Is everything is not as it's so_**

**_And the more I know_**

**_The less I grow_**

**_And I have lived so many lives_**

**_Though I'm not old_**

**_But the more I know, the less I grow_**

**_The fewer the seeds, the more I sow_**

When Sam reflected on their lives so far, separately and as a couple, it amazed him that they were still standing. They should have been broken a long time ago. Their relationship should have had far more holes, been more weathered, than it currently was. It had to have been God that kept them.

**_Then I see you standing there, wanting more from me_**

**_And all I can do is try_**

**_Then I see you standing there, wanting more from me_**

**_And all I can do is_**

**_Try..._**

This song was for her father, pained that she couldn't quite measure up to his standards for her life. This was for the God she served, in apology for her many human shortcomings. Maybe, Sam realized, it was for him as well; her way of telling him that she's being stretched beyond her limit and had little left to give. Perhaps she was saying, like she had tried to when they argued last, that she's been trying to give him everything from nothing. His fiancée had been running on empty for longer than he'd realized. Mercedes never told him. Sadly, in all his attempts to be the perfect future husband, he'd never thought to ask her.

**_I wish I hadn't seen _**

**_All of the realness_**

**_And all the real people_**

**_Are really not real at all_**

**_And the more I learn, the more I learn_**

**_The more I cry, the more I cry_**

**_As we say goodbye to the way of life _**

**_I thought I had designed for me_**

Mercedes repeated the chorus, mulling over the verses she'd just sung aloud. They were so true. The real world had been crueler than she'd anticipated. Really, the real world had snuck into her high school years and robbed her early, snatching away any fantasies of whatever a normal life should look like. Her dream was the only hope she had left to cling to. Aside from Sam and her faith, it was what woke her up every morning and pushed her out the front door, daring her to imagine limitless possibilities. Why couldn't her father see that? Why did he want to take that away from her? Couldn't he see that she would fall apart if she didn't at least try? And now, when that dream was so close to becoming real for her, he forced her hand with ultimatums and excommunicated himself without a proper goodbye.

Her plans for success had always included him. It didn't—it _couldn't—_feel like success without him.

Walking down the aisle to take Sam's hand in marriage…buying her first home….having her first child...

She would have to do all of it without her daddy. Her other half, her partner in crime, wouldn't be there if she couldn't be what he wanted.

**_All of the moments that already passed_**

**_Try to go back and make them last_**

**_All of the things we want each other to be_**

**_We ever could be_**

**_We ever would be_**

**_And that's _**

**_Wonderful_**

**_And that's _**

**_Life_**

Sam hugged her tighter, sensing her needs as he always did. Right then, in his gentle, caring rubs to her tummy, he'd calmed the storm inside her. Sam couldn't fix it, no. It wasn't in his power to fix. But he did patch her up as best as he could, with the gentle hands of a lover and the skill of a physician.

**_This is you, baby_**

**_This is me, baby_**

**_We are…_**

**_We are…._**

**_We are! We are!_**

**_We are! We are! _**

**_Free…..In love!_**

**_We are_**

**_Free_**

**_In love_**

**_I try..._**

"Mercy?" She pushed her keyboard away and threw her arms around his waist in reply, squeezing his middle.

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She frowned, confused by the question. "About what?"

"That you were so worn out, so stressed...why didn't I know?" The more Sam thought about it, the more he felt like an idiot for not noticing the subtle changes in her. "I'm so sorry I didn't notice."

"You're not the only one that's been struggling to keep secrets," she murmured, looking up at him. "But I want that to end now. We've got to do this honesty thing better, Sam. Our relationship is never going to work out if we don't."

"I know. I can do that, seriously this time. From now on, no more secrets, not even little ones. We'll be brutally honest with each other" vowed Sam with a firm nod. He pressed his lips against the forehead beneath him, rubbing them against her silken skin. "Can you trust me again?"

"Sam, you lied to my face for months, then waited until my friends told me the truth before you confessed. That really hurt me," she explained, pain breaking her voice. His face fell, guilt ridden. "But, even when you were being dishonest, you were still in my corner. Lately, I've come to realize how precious that is. I can't take that for granted."

Sam's countenance brightened with hope. "So you forgive me?"

Mercedes smiled and shook her head at her naïve fiancé. "Sam, I forgave you from the moment you confessed to me. All I wanted was the truth. Even if it hurts me, I need the truth from you. Honesty is the only way to know who people really are, and I need to know the man I'm planning to marry."

"You do know me, Mercedes," he stated plainly. "I'm still the same guy. I'm still your Sam."

"But we're changing, Sam. Who you are now isn't necessarily who you're going to be months from now or even a year from now. I want to grow with you," she explained, cupping his cheek. "I love you so much, babe. I want to hold on to that, to our love, because it's the best thing I've known."

"Me too," he agreed, resting his hand over hers on his cheek. "Whatever it takes."

Her gaze swept over his face for a while, smiling at all she found, before she spoke again. "Can we do something fun, baby? Something spontaneous and reckless and...I don't know, age appropriate? Lately we've been a bunch of sixty year olds in our twilight years, not teenagers."

"Twilight? Hey! I know what that means!" Sam proudly announced. "It was one of my words on last year's calendar, so I know exactly what you're saying." The couple laughed together as he smoothed back her hair. "What did you have in mind?"

She hummed and clicked her tongue, coming up empty."I don't know. What do college kids usually do to unwind and have a good time?"

**O-O**

Two drunken bodies twirled uncoordinatedly down the hallway later that evening, stumbling over their hurried feet and blinding kisses as they giggled their way to their apartment. The shorter of the two collided with the front door, pressed against it by the leaner, taller frame that invaded her space with twinkling eyes and the heavy smell of aged Cabernet on his breath.

"Open the door, darlin'. I wanna fuck you on our mattress."

"Shh! Sam!" Mercedes giggled at the way his blunt answer sounded louder and crasser in the empty hallway. In fact, it was a fight to keep her rolling laughter at bay. "People are sleeping nearby somewhere! We have to whisper!"

"What people?" Sam exclaimed louder than necessary, just to get his fiancée to hush him again. When she did, he obediently lowered his voice and replied, "Well, they don't matter. Only we matter," He reached out for the door behind her and dropped his weight into his palms, struggling to keep his swaying balance in check. The floor kept moving for some reason.

Mercedes grabbed his shirt and pulled him further into her personal space, standing on her toes until her open mouth hovered over his. The spiced, fruity notes on her breath made his brain foggier than any of the alcohol he'd consumed.

"Then why are we still in the hallway talking when we could be showing each other just how _much_ we matter?" she purred with a clever smile, clicking her tongue before suckling and nipping his bottom lip. "You open the door. I want you, too."

Sam patted his pockets in search of keys while she assaulted his neck with kisses. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kept him steady, balancing them both with a sharp stiletto heel pressed against the door. Teeth and tongue found a spot that made his inebriated mind lose focus, and his heavy arms quickly dropped their task to cup and knead her bottom. He craned his head and sloppily kissed his lover's full lips, lifting her thigh over his until his hand could slip far enough under her dress to tug at cotton underwear.

Mercedes was too full of love and liquor to complain. "These aren't even sexy panties," she scandalously whispered, wide-eyed and amused at her own faux paus. "It's been so long since we've been out and…you know. I forgot to switch them."

Sam smirked and kissed her nose, finding the admission as adorable as her face. "I think I like it, though. They're like virgin panties."

"_Virgin panties?_" Mercedes snorted hard enough for the blood to rush to her head. Her eyes crossed briefly from the sensation as she laughed. "That was many, many, many summers ago."

"Not that many many's, Ms. Jones," Sam playfully chided. "Unless there's another first time I wasn't included in."

"Included. That's such a funny word." Mercedes chuckled. Everything was funnier when she felt so tingly and light inside. "Incluuuuuded."

"You're the best drunk ever," Sam laughed back, tapping her nose. "We should've been drinking together a long time ago."

His choice of wording made her think of beaches and grinding on wood, for some odd reason. "I've been drinkin', I've been drinkin'…." She sang, suddenly remembering the source of influence. "I think Beyonce is the best drunk ever. She writes songs about it….waking up in kitchens and puttin' it on her man in the foyer. I bet she remembers to wear the sexy panties."

"Hell, I'll wear the sexy panties if you open the door and let me put it on you." Sam pouted, verbal filter completely destroyed. "I don't curr. I ain't got no shame. Whatever you're into, baby."

Her peals of laughter shook her entire body. "I'm into…." Mercedes slowly slipped her hands into the front pockets of his dress slacks, lightly toying with the concealed head of his cock as she fished for keys. "…anytime you can get into me."

"Is that right?" Sam grinned, circling his hips against her small, gentle fingers. "Do tell me more."

Mercedes dangled the recovered keys in front of his face, hiding them behind her back before he could snatch them away. "Can I show you instead?" she softly pleaded, blindly probing around for the lock with the front door key just as she leaned her head in for a taste of him again. A hair's breath away from their throbbing lips touching, and the door unlocked and gave way behind her, sending Mercedes crashing to the floor. In her shock, she grabbed Sam's tie on her way down and pulled him with her, slightly strangling him in the process.

"Oh god, are you okay?" he coughed. Sam pushed himself up on his elbows and knees to look over her fallen form for any injuries. "Did I crush you?"

"No, I'm fine. Your body's not as hard as this floor." She groaned, sitting up and rubbing her head.

Although she was clearly in mild pain, Sam couldn't resist the opportunity for naughty humor. "I've got something on me that's harder than this floor, just waiting for you," he jested, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.

Mercedes smacked his chest and half-heartedly pushed him away, sucking her teeth at his timing. "Seriously, Sam?"

Try as she might, she couldn't hold it. Her chin quivered, then her lips, before a laugh bubbled out and nearly doubled her over. Sam grinned down at her when she held her shaking belly, kicking the door closed before he dropped himself back on top of her with a ridiculous warrior yell. She tried to push him away when he started tickling her sides, but laughter and wine made her weaker than usual. Instead, she attacked with tickles of her own, sliding her hands underneath his dress shirt to tease the downy-haired skin directly. Thank goodness for her knowledge of his weak spots.

This night was all they needed to get them back on track. Dinner, dessert, great music and excellent conversation, all ending with a night under the stars and some personal bottles of the season's selected by one of LA's best connoisseurs. Apparently, the entertainment industry didn't have the same hang-ups about underage drinking. One of the members of her management team at DMC had recommended him, and his choice for their evening was sweet and rich enough for a fall evening between two comfortable lovers looking to rekindle the fire.

And, three bottles later, Mercedes considered the fire well lit and blazing. Sam felt the heat rise in his blood as well. He swiveled his hips atop her closed thighs to illustrate, regaining her attention after the silliness had died down.

Their eyes met, and it felt like she'd been pushed from the highest peak in the world, stealing the chance to catch her breath before the rush of wind compressed her lungs and rushed across her body. Slowly, she parted her legs, easing Sam's body between them until their pelvises aligned. His penis eagerly twitched against her inner thigh, just alongside her sex, and Sam leaned in for a kiss before the need to taste her overwhelmed him. When their lips finally touched, the slow burning in her veins grew scalding hot, consuming her insides. Sam's skin felt even hotter than hers did to the touch, covered in a light sheen of sweat underneath his few layers of clothing.

"Let's play some music." She sighed, tousling his silky hair and scratching his scalp as his lips traveled down her neck and atop her covered breasts. "I want music for this."

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled them both to their feet, stumbling slightly before her steadier hands gripped his shoulders and centered him. With a small grin, he resumed his attentions to her body, brushing his coarse stubble across her cheeks as he pulled her towards him and nibbled her ear. Blindly, he reached for the remote on the counter, left precisely there for this very moment, and hit play.

"Up," she demanded, guiding his hands underneath her ass and patting them twice. Sam lifted her in his arms and sat her on the countertop, pushing her legs apart almost immediately to grind against her heat. Brown, short fingers slipped between them and fiddled with his belt buckle as they made love with tongues soft sighs, undoing Sam in every way possible.

"What's your favorite part of me, princess?" The article of leather flew over her shoulder and hit the kitchen floor with a clang, followed by Sam's kicked off shoes and her sheer stockings. "I'm dying to know."

Mercedes paused, smiling lazily as she yanked the hem of his shirt from his pants. He thought he knew where her hands were headed, but she surprised him by sliding them in the opposite direction, patting the space over his heart.

"The biggest, healthiest part of you." Only Mercedes could make a large heart sound so erotic. She ripped his shirt open, sending buttons clattering to the kitchen floor, and pressed a tender kiss there. "So firm." She whispered, licking the salty skin across his chest and surrounding his nipple. "So strong, beating for me."

Sam threw his head back when she began to suckle. "Fuck, I love you."

She giggled again, and Sam knew he'd never tire of the sound. "Down, boy." She whispered against his lips, nipping them before two of her fingers pressed the top of his head, guiding him to where she needed kisses the most.

Sam held his nose as he descended, creating the silliest gurgling noises. Ever the tease, Sam held off on pleasuring her right away. Instead, he kissed up her calves and across her knees, slowly sliding her dress up her thighs as he moved closer.

"I'm Nigel Thornberry." He began, mimicking the ridiculously nasal British accent almost perfectly. "Today, we are venturing into the wettest and wildest of territories, discovering a creature known to men as the _pussicus sexicum_…." Mercedes clasped a hand over her mouth when he finally dove in between her legs, nudging her clit with his nose. When he settled her thighs on top of his shoulders and blew raspberries against her vagina, she had to grab his head with one hand and grip the counter with the other to avoid keeling over with laughter.

"Sam!"

"Smashing!" he replied, albeit a bit muffled since she had his head in a vice grip. She moaned a second later when his tongue jutted out and laved her opening. Even though her underwear was in the way, she felt the jolts of pleasure bolt up her spine like he'd touched her directly.

Impatiently, she tugged his hair and pulled him up, sliding her tongue down his throat before he could whine about 'interrupting his dinner'. She pulled a shaky moan from him instead, and smiled into their kiss when he tried to ease a finger inside her.

"God, Mercy." He frowned, hitting a dry barrier. "Wait….do you need some more play time?"

"Hmm?" Eyes fluttered open, barely focusing. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you feel a little…you know…" he probed again, barely inching his finger inside her. "Resistant. Do you want me to finish eating you?"

"Sam…" She held the skirt of her dress over her stomach and pointed between her legs. "Panties. They're still in the way."

"Oh." His cheeks turned the faintest pink. "Knew that."

She giggled and pouted her lips, prodding his until he smiled back. "Silly Sammy."

Mercedes tried to lift her hips and assist him with removing her underwear, but Sam held her down.

"What?" she glanced at the hands gripping her hips and frowned. "Not here? Not like this?"

"No, it's just…." His eyes shone as they appraised her body. "You look beautiful in this dress. It's so sexy."

It was a simple white number, with cap sleeves and a hem that just touched her knee. Her front was fully covered, as was her back, with a delicate zipper trailing down her spine that was hid demurely under a thin strip of fabric. All in all, the dress was classy and mature, maybe even alluring in its modesty, but nowhere close to the dresses that most people considered sexy. She was hardly showing any skin. Even its shape lent some room around her curves, notably the most physically sexy thing about her.

"How?" she asked curiously, tilting her head. Sam leaned in and spoke against her exposed throat, whispering his seduction.

"It makes me imagine. And my imagination is wild as hell, princess." A firm swipe of his tongue over her jawbone caused her to shudder.

"W-what are you imagining when you see me in this dress?" She gasped when she felt him unzip his fly, and her answer was a hard-on as thick and firm as tree bark nudging her center. That damn cotton underwear was the only barrier preventing Sam from penetrating her at that very moment.

"I'm imag'nin'..." he whispered, in his deepest southern drawl, "those heels digging into my backside, those points at the end, sharp as ever, tearing through the first good fitting pair of dress pants I've had since I was ten. I'm imagining you spreading your legs for me under that wide skirt, taking me in deep without anyone being able to tell from looking between us 'cause it falls past your knees."

Her breath caught when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom wrapped in golden foil, then ripped it open with his teeth and spit the trash out to the side. Mercedes leaned in and caught the uncovered condom between her teeth, turning her face away before his hands could reach for it. With an amused grin, Sam kissed her nose and pulled back, loving the way she looked when she pushed her tongue through the lubricated circle and the phallic-shaped rubber dangled from her mouth. Her wide eyes observed him, seemingly waiting for instruction, as they danced in excitement.

"And I imagine myself coming inside you and all over the tops of your thighs...having you walk around with my seed on your skin, staining the inside of your dress, while you entertain guests and greet members of your church and go 'bout life like I'm not all over you, like I didn't just have your knees shakin' around me five minutes ago."

Mercedes's knees shook around him then. Her entire body hummed and pulsed from his words. Overwhelmed and excited, she whimpered and fell forward, running her nails down his back as she thrust her hips forward and circled them against him. Her teeth ground when he looped his finger around the crotch of her panties and held them to the side.

"I'll be needing that, baby," Sam cockily purred, snatching the condom from between her teeth with a wet snap of rubber. He looked down to slip it on and position himself properly, but her eyes never left his face once to monitor what he was doing. His gorgeous eyes and dimples...the curve of his mouth and set form of his jaw...the way he could do magical things to her mind as well as her body...all of it left her desperate for more of him. Mercedes ached more of his sexual thoughts of her whispered hotly in her ear, more of his gentle teasing caresses over the parts of her covered by clothes.

She could orgasm from the build up alone, without being filled by him in any other way.

"Are you ready?" he asked with a soft smile. "I'd like to make love to you while you're wearing this, if that's alright with you. If it's too much, we can go to bed. I'll carry you there, and we can do whatever you like for as long as you want."

And then there was his kindness, his concern for her well-being that stirred her soul in a different way. The sexual appeal Sam found her dress was probably in some odd way similar to how his chivalry turned her on. In appearance, it was simple, but could awaken the libido and quicken the pulse to her nether regions in record time.

Mercedes replied by loosening his tie and wrapping each end around her knuckles, visibly anchoring herself for love-making on the hard surface. The soft smile on his paler lips turned wicked, and with one slow ease of his hips, a fully clothed Sam slipped into his fully clothed fiancée on what would be their newly christened kitchen counter.

"Give me everything, Sam," she cried, winding his tie slowly around her hands until she had his mouth fused to hers. For a moment, between thrusts, Sam broke away and spoke his mind.

"Someday, just give me a daughter as beautiful as you, Mercy. I know I sound crazy for always asking, but it's all I want," he breathlessly begged, slipping the crook of his arms under her knees to deepen his thrusts. "The greatest thing I could ever ask in life is you wearing my ring, calling yourself my missus, and carrying my child."

Dripping and full of him, she nodded, panting as his request pulled her closer to the precipice. "I want it. I want your baby someday, Sam. I want a life with you, more than anything."

Sam growled in pleasure and buried his head into her neck, cradling her back as he rested her against the sink faucet and thrust harder. As orgasm grew closer, his hips gained momentum and aimed purposefully for the deepest recesses of her. His clouded mind, scrambled by the heady scent of her arousal wafting between them, silently thanked God for the condom he'd had the presence of mind to slip on before their passion took over. The way it was between them at the moment felt too electric _not _to create life.

"I'm coming!" she screamed, shedding blissful tears against his temple as their bodies shook, and everything between them became the beating of drums and fireworks dancing behind eyelids.

**O-O**

In the early hours of the morning, a more sober Sam stumbled out of their bed, shaking his numb hands and sleeping legs to wake them after the third vigorous go-round of lovemaking put Mercedes into a peaceful slumber. Grumbling about the unnecessary brightness of light bulbs in bathrooms, he dampened a small rag with soap and warm water to clean his sore genitals, then took another and did the same for his sleeping beauty. Clothes were haphazardly discarded well after their second encounter, and her naked form covered in blankets made it easy for him to clean her thoroughly without disturbing her sleep. When he was done, Sam snuck in a soft kiss to her sex, then her stomach, before settling back behind her. She rolled over in his arms and rested her head over his beating heart, pressing a kiss as equally as soft as his just above the organ.

"I felt you," she said hoarsely, barely opening her eyes. "Thank you."

"Mhmm," he hummed, yawning and smacking his lips before tightening his hold around her waist. "Remember what I said? Wanting more of you?"

"Yeah?" she sighed, yawning as well.

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they fluttered closed, just before he uttered, "This is what I was talking about."

"The sex?" she asked with a gentle laugh, careful of the hangover induced migraine brewing in her skull.

"The connection," he replied, kissing her forehead. "You've been right beside me, but I've missed you so much." Sam missed the moment she looked up and blinked away her happy tears.

"I missed you too," she whispered, reaching across his hip to slide her fingers between his. Soon, their breathing settled and evened in slumber.

Three important lessons were learned that day, two of which were immediately realized that morning. The first being the importance of honesty, for it is only the most vulnerable self that can be receptive to love. Lies stir up contention, and love cannot be fostered in an environment riddled with deceit.

The second, more beautiful lesson learned was the true measure of one's wealth. Money would always be there, always hold some man-made value, waiting to be earned. There would always be an opportunity waiting to change a life's direction, to re-purpose it. But, as quickly as it's gained or achieved, it can be taken away without warning. The fanciful things of this world may bring joy for a time, but it is never promised to last. It is the seeds sown in people that bear the most resilient fruit, and Sam and Mercedes have discovered that their most abundant harvests lie in the heart of the other. With all that life has thrown at them, all the people around them that have come and gone, what they share has withstood every test of time. Their souls are tethered, unbreakably so, even when the body weakens to fear and the mind caves to skepticism.

The third lesson, unfortunately, would not be so easily learned, nor would it be the most welcome lesson. Its truth lies at the heart of every good deed, overshadowed by the best of intentions. Every decision has its cost, and at times, what must be paid is of greater weight than the deed itself. This lesson in particular has already presented itself in several forms: betrayal, when Donovan chose to take advantage of Mercedes' generous heart for supporters of her music; shame, when Sam made a fool of himself at a frat party in his best efforts to fit in; anger, over a secret job hidden out of loving concern; resentment, when plans to improve are thwarted by family that can never understand your greatest efforts.

But the consequence of a well-intentioned action, the one that would truly hit home for Sam and Mercedes, would not manifest itself until several weeks had passed. By then, its price would manifest in the form of regret, over naïve wishes whispered in passion and unforeseen consequences of drunken decisions made to rebuild their relationship.

But now, as the lesson's pupils were sleeping, its cost came in the form of a tied condom, hidden amidst piles of crumpled school notes and balled laundry lint. Two rows of familiar, visible teeth marks crisscrossed along the shaft, caused by two separate mouths unconsciously biting into a material best suited for gentler handling. From them leaked small amounts of Sam's cooling semen, spilling over into the nearby trash just as its owner had spilled over into Mercedes that night. If they weren't so drunk with wine and each other's presence, the more cautious of the two would have insisted on changing condoms between their romps. And sadly, Mercedes was too drowsy that morning to catch the telling white stains on the rag Sam lovingly cleaned her with before he tossed it into the pile of dirty laundry. Sam, the more romantic of the two, was too blinded by the near poetic perfection of their evening to even notice.

**O-O**

**It's not perfect, but it's mine, and I'm happy with it. I hope you are, too! Be careful not to jump to any hasty conclusions after this chapter. I promise you, I have way more story to tell and lots of surprises up my sleeve. *evil cackles***

**A couple things to walk away with after this chapter:**

**Alcohol doesn't solve problems, but it can create them. I hope I've made that clear in my story so far. We really need to stop romanticizing the thought process while under the influence, because it's pretty messed up. **

**Condoms should never be bitten. EVER! Don't rip a packet open for one with your teeth. Don't let it sit between teeth period. I don't care how sexy it looks. They are a fragile protection, a thicker glove if you will, and should be handled as such. **

**There is no greater ruin to any relationship than excessive pride. Many a man have fallen prey to it, and Mr. Jones is no exception.**

**Make love with someone who can make you laugh. If Nigel Thornberry impressions and cheesy innuendo are your thing, then find the person who does it for you. The most satisfying sex is usually the least sexy thing to observe, but at least you enjoy yourself. That's what matters. Be comfortable. **

**Until next update lovelies! **

**Song Credits:**

** Try by Nelly Furtado**

**Drunk in Love by Beyonce**


	39. Chapter 37 In Sickness & Health (1 of 3)

**A/N: I'm a July baby, so my birthday is this month! In celebration of another year of life, here's a brand new, extremely long chapter for you guys! Enjoy! **

**Thanks, as always, to my lovely beta Jill. Her schedule is as busy as mine, but she still makes time to correct all my run-on sentences and catch any minor inconsistencies. I appreciate you! **

**O-O**

**Six weeks after that fateful night….**

"A seven letter word for a frugal and money conscious person. It's an adjective."

Mercedes lifts her head from Sam's shoulder to take a better look at the crossword puzzle in his hands. In the space they needed to fill, 16 down, there was already a T at the beginning and an F two spaces before the end. Her gold tipped finger tapped the page to count the squares, then tapped her chin as she ran through all the potential words she could think of in her head. "Thrifty, maybe?"

"Thrifty…" Sam considered. "Yep, that should work!" He quickly wrote the answer in and checked off the definition, moving to the next one. "Ooh, how about an adjective meaning brilliant or passionate, a light….emitted from heat? What is that, like fire?"

"It's incandescent." Mercedes nodded surely. Sam shot her a disbelieving look. "Just trust me! It's right."

Sam rested the book in his lap and touched each of his fingertips to his chin, silently counting each letter of the word to double-check if it would fit. Mercedes just watched and smirked, loving the adorable way he mouthed each letter as if he were learning it for the first time.

When it all added up, Sam clicked his tongue and wrote the word in, shaking his head in amazement of his girlfriend's intelligence. "I swear, one day I'm going to catch up and become the dictionary in this relationship."

"Like you aren't halfway there already, with all the reading you've been doing," mentioned Mercedes, hugging his arm once again to resume snuggling against his shoulder. "You've really been taking those word calendars seriously, too."

"Well, if I'm going to write this graphic novel and it's going to be based on our story, I want to make sure that I get it right. It's all about the imagery, you know? Drawing is one thing, but like you said, the words hold the power. I want my readers to fall in love with it like we fell in love with each other," Sam explained before tapping his lips with the pencil. His focus on the next word made Sam completely miss the adoration in his fiancee's eyes. "I need a three letter word for unbelievable and surprising."

Mercedes gently plucked the pencil from his hand and filled in the answer herself, erasing a letter or two in the process. When Sam leaned over and saw what she'd written, Mercedes drew a heart around it and nestled her face in the warmth of his neck. His chuckle vibrated against her lips and tickled her nose.

"I don't think my name counts, Mercy," he affectionately chided. "But thank you for thinking that I'm unbelievably surprising. If there were more empty squares, I'd put your name down, too. In fact…" Struck by inspiration, Sam leaned back into his chair and took the pencil and puzzle from her, drawing a row of boxes in the empty space next to where she'd written his name.

"Sam, erasing letters is one thing. You can't just add an entire row to a crossword puzzle!" she giggled, lightly slapping his chest.

"Oh, yeah? I'll do even better, then!" Mercedes hushed him, conscious of the other people sitting around them, but he paid her no mind. He was on a roll. "I'm gonna write your name in, _and_ I'm gonna give you your own number—36 across—AND you're going to have your own definition!"

"My own definition? You're insane." Mercedes laughed, throwing her own advice about volume control out the window. Her eyes widened when she saw him writing and realized he was serious. "Sam, this isn't our book! It belongs to the counseling office! Other people might want to use it later!"

"Well then, they better get to know you if they want the answer to 36 across!" Sam argued simply, stretching his arms out of her reach and dodging her attempts to reach for the puzzle when she tried to take the book away. Sam held the book high above his head to finish his task. Mercedes, ever determined, almost climbed on his lap before she remembered her sense of decorum in a place of business. "Definition of Mercedes. Let's see….. Stubborn, gorgeous when she's angry, selfless…."

"Sam, Dr. Warner's going to kill us for messing up her books."

He side-eyed the argument with a pursing of his lips. "Yeah, because she's so emotionally attached to the coffee-stained crossword puzzles from 1976 in her lobby. These are like, ancient." He tapped the tip of his pencil on his tongue and continued writing. "Graceful, sneaky…" he turned his body away from her and said under his breath, "absolutely horrible with money…."

"I heard that!" Sam laughed off the slap to his shoulder and nudged her reaching hand away with his elbow. Determined, Mercedes palmed in his lap and leaned forward, placing just enough pressure on his most sensitive parts for him to drop the book and reach for his crotch.

"Hey!"

Mercedes snatched up the book and waved it in his face, tauntingly humming with her tongue out. Sam tried the same tactic, but Mercedes quickly crossed her legs and hid the book behind her, smiling winningly.

"Nope. Not that easily. You're gonna have to kiss me if you want it back."

"Is that all?" Sam replied with a smile of his own, enjoying the game. "Just a kiss?"

"A really, really good one." She clarified. "If it sucks, I'm not giving it back."

They both knew that Sam's long arms could have easily wrapped around her frame and pried the book away, but where was the fun in that? Leaning closer, she wound her arms around his neck and whispered, "Brownie points for you if it makes me tremble."

Mercedes still wasn't a huge advocate for public displays of affection, especially in professional places like a psychiatrist's office. Lately though, she couldn't seem to get enough of it, enough of him, in her personal space when they went out. It was almost as if their roles had reversed, and she had become the prompter of PDA in the relationship. Sam didn't mind it at all, especially if it meant that he got free kisses whenever he wanted.

"Oh, I think I can make you tremble, Mrs. Evans," Sam whispered back, pressing teasing, feather light pecks around the perimeter of her mouth. "Or did you forget last night, and the night before that?"

Mercedes bit her bottom lip and hummed low, careful to keep the sound as quiet as possible. "You know I have a terrible memory, baby. Remind me. Remind me how good you are to me."

Sam cupped her cheek and leaned in, smiling when the forceful pressure of her lips parted his own and she eased her tongue in as deeply as it would go. The crossword puzzle slipped from her fingers and rolled down Sam's back, hitting the armrest of his chair to topple to the ground just as groping hands slid under her shirt to caress her belly.

"Excuse me, but I think you two dropped this."

The couple pulled apart and quickly straightened their clothes and hair, embarrassed at being caught in such a state by someone so much older than them. A little while ago, the office was virtually empty.

"Sorry about that," Sam answered with a reddened face, apologizing for both the sight of their compromising position and the fallen book hitting his foot. "We got a bit carried away."

"No problems, dearie." An elderly woman with curly white hair emerged beside the older gentleman, leaning forward to reach for Sam's hand. "I'm Esther. This is my husband, Nick. We're regulars here."

"I'm Sam and this is Mercedes." Mercedes meekly waved as Sam shook her hand. "This is our third visit."

"Have I seen you somewhere before, young man?" Nick inquired, squinting as he analyzed Sam's features. "Are you famous? You know, we meet a lot of famous folks in this city."

"Nick, don't be a yutz! If they were famous, they would use fake names when they come to therapy!" Esther commented, smacking his shoulder. However, when she looked over Sam herself, her eyes immediately widened with recognition. "Oh my goodness, you're that boy that sang with Faith at the awards show! Remember Nick? They sang that song that the kids played for our vow renewal."

Nick, used to being dismissed and having his wife acknowledge his point moments after, simply rolled his eyes and scoffed through his false teeth. "No kidding, Es. No kidding." A genuine smile returned as he addressed the couple. "You have a wonderful singing voice, young man. Quite a future ahead of you if you keep it up, but I'm sure your girlfriend tells you that all the time."

"Fiancée, actually," Sam corrected, proudly taking her left hand and sitting it on his lap. "And Mercedes is actually a recording artist herself."

"Oh is that right?" Esther exclaimed. "How wonderful! A singing couple! You guys could be the next l Sonny and Cher. I'd pay good money to watch that. I bet you sing wonderfully, too. I can always tell, just by looking at a person, whether or not they have talent. "

"Have we seen you anywhere on TV, young lady?" asked Nick. "Are you famous, too?"

"Not exactly." Her dwindling exposure and halted career progress had been a sore spot for Mercedes in the past couple of weeks. Having her dream so close and so far at the same time was utterly frustrating, and resuming her role as 'the unrecognized talent' again had grown tiring. Still, she felt led to stay with her record label. Why God wanted to keep her there, she wasn't sure, but he hadn't failed her yet. He was the only father she had that kept his word every time. If patience was what she needed to learn, then she'd be a good daughter and taking this in-between in stride, even if her smile didn't quite meet her eyes lately when people brought up her music. "I'm still up and coming."

"Oh. Well how long have you been in the industry? Are you from LA?"

"No, we're actually both from Ohio. We both came up here for school and my career." She explained, gently rolling Sam's engagement ring between her fingers.

"_Our _careers, Mercy," Sam corrected, shooting her a look. "We both came up here to pursue our careers."

Mercedes shrugged and eased her hand out of his grasp, lowering her voice. "I'm sorry, it was a slip. It's not like you've been doing much with art lately, and singing probably isn't your 'forever' like you always tell me, so…"

"So, maybe I'm still finding my way," he answered testily. "We can't all have it figured out right away like you, _princess_. Some of us need to explore before settling on something."

"Don't start that, Sam. Don't you dare start. Not now. I've never judged you." It had been far too fire and ice between them lately, exactly like this. One moment, they were frantically clawing each other's clothes, desperate to be one, forgetting who was around them. The next, the very sight of him made her stomach churn, and he'd pick at everything she said, reading far too much into it. The counselor had said that they'd finally ended the romantic honeymoon phase of their relationship, that the changes they've been seeing were normal, but it felt like far more. Jealously maybe? Resentment? Spite? Even if it wasn't obvious, Mercedes could sense it, and if the swirling discomfort in her belly was any indication, then something was definitely forming a wedge between them.

"No, of course you haven't judged me. You've been enjoying the money coming in far too much to worry about my failures as an artist," Sam sneered, crossing his arms and pouting like the immature child he felt like inside. "Like you care."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sam?"

What did she mean, _what did he mean_? With all of her own career hiccups, why couldn't she figure it out? He felt like an aimless slacker, a loser. Even the job he had now wasn't really his choice, but an opportunity thrown in his lap. He accepted it, out of curiosity and desire for steady work, and now he felt stuck there.

But then again, how could she know? His more mature mind reasoned that he should've told her outright about how lost he'd been feeling lately, about his job and their relationship. Lately, nothing made sense. Music wasn't as fulfilling as he thought it would be, with its constant spotlights and scrutinizing eyes zooming in on his imperfections as a performer. Most days after a set, he'd retreat to the dressing area and work in his sketchbook to find balance again. Drawing freed his world, opened doors in his imagination and allowed his creativity to breathe. He could be himself in his creations.

But drawing wouldn't keep a roof over their heads or food in their fridge now that Mercedes wasn't getting as much money from her label. His needs and wants were on opposite ends. All he wanted was to combine them. Why couldn't Mercedes see that? She used to be so good at reading him, before she started locking herself away in their room and shutting him out.

"What do you mean, what is that supposed to mean? That little shopping spree last Tuesday doesn't ring any bells?"

"That was grocery shopping, Sam!"

"Three hundred dollars worth, Mercedes? And you only brought home what, like three bags worth of stuff?"

"I thought we both agreed that we were buying organic. It's a bit pricier, Sam." Now was not the time to mention her unusual splurge on three boxes of pricey Tahitian mangoes. She'd been having an unusual and irresistible craving for them, and lately, it's all she could manage to hold in her stomach without feeling ill. She always got sick when she was stressed out, and life had given her nothing but triggering stressors lately. "Plus, most of that money went toward the garbage that you insist on having in the house, like your endless supply of blue Gatorade and your precious sugary cereals for example."

"Then buy the generic brands, Mercedes! What the hell do I care if the box says golden grahams or honey covered sugar squares? Jesus, don't you know we have light bills to pay? And rent and car maintenance and water and a whole bunch of other little bills sitting in envelopes on our dresser! " Why wasn't she as anxious about their expenses as he was? Lately, the bills seemed to be piling up and swallowing him whole. Mercedes couldn't fully understand. She'd never had the threat of losing a home. Late notices only meant paying a little extra in late fees later on for her, never loss of electricity or eviction. Arguments like this reminded Sam of their drastically different upbringings.

"You don't think I know that, Sam? A couple of weeks ago, I was the one that had to remind you!" She replied, incensed by what his questions suggested. "Me not working as often as I used to doesn't mean that I've lost all concepts of our bills and the money it takes to pay them."

Sam crossed his arms and pouted, sliding down in his seat. "Whatever. I don't want to argue. Dr. Warner's going to notice if there's something off about us."

"But there_ is_ something off about us!" insisted Mercedes, a bit louder than she intended. She felt the elderly couple's awed stares, but before she could apologize for her behavior, they directed their focus to the newspaper in Esther's hands. In lieu of an apology, Mercedes lowered her voice several decibels. "Why do you do that? Why do you always shut down whenever we fight instead of talking about what's really bothering you?"

"Me?" Sam harshly whispered back, turning his body to face her. "You're the one who's clinging to me one moment and shoving me away the next! I'm not the only one that's not talking about their feelings!"

"I do tell you how I'm feeling! That's not true!" Mercedes threw herself back in her chair and huffed, crossing her arms. For two people so in and out of sync, they had an unusual knack for mirroring each other's mannerisms, down to the most minute gesture. "There are just some things I don't have words for, alright? Some things I just can't communicate right now. I don't know how."

"Well, me either. And if I do tell you how I feel and say it the wrong way, you're going to explode on me and push me away again. So where does that leave us?"

She shrugged and looked away, pressing her lips together. "Broken, I guess."

Sam caught the beginnings of tears in her eyes, but frankly, he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. He was so over being manipulated with crying and silent treatments that led to empty apologies if it didn't lead them anywhere true. If they were going to fix whatever was causing their tension, they needed honesty.

"I don't mean to interrupt." Nick carefully began, leaning into their hostile space. "But I thought you would want to know that you're in the papers, young lady."

"What? I am?" The tears left just as quickly as they came, and Sam scoffed at himself for almost falling for them. "Where?"

"Page seven, second column. Have a look." Esther handed over the folded newspaper, pointing out the article once it was in Mercedes' shaking hands. "I didn't read it yet, just saw the photo. It is a rather flattering picture of you both, if I do say so myself."

"Sam, come look!" she said excitedly, shaking his shoulder and pulling him forward. Sam rolled his eyes, but obeyed, none too excited about seeing yet another photo of himself in the papers. Paparazzi always managed to catch him at the most unflattering angles, eating a large burger or a double order of fries doused in ketchup, all while heralding him 'Country's newest sex symbol'. Frankly, the title felt like a mockery. He'd gone up a pound and a half since his last weight check. Was he the only one that noticed? Was the world making fun of him?

"Oh, it is a nice photo," Mercedes said in awe, smoothing her fingers over the image of them licking opposite sides of a chocolate and vanilla swirl ice cream cone. "We look like an ad for one of those cheesy interracial love websites."

Sam chuckled in spite of himself and rested his chin on her shoulder, taking a second look at the image. No bulk around his midsection. His fitted sweatshirt didn't bunch anywhere that might suggest he'd gotten fatter. And when he analyzed his smile, there was nothing embarrassing stuck between his teeth and his lips looked average sized. All in all, it wasn't a bad shot. Mercedes, like always, was stunningly photogenic. "Yeah, we do look cute. What's this for?"

They both read the title of the small article together, and their smiles slowly faded into confused frowns.

"Hill and Evans team up to 'strike back' against sexual abuse." Mercedes read aloud. Sam, already halfway into the article, tried to hush her but she ignored him. "Country's angel Faith Hill and up and coming superstar Sam Evans have accepted an offer to perform in A Joyful Heart's first ever Night of Healing event, an evening of music and advocacy spearheaded by the foundation's 'NO MORE PSA' movement to end the misplaced blame placed on sexual assault victims. The evening will be hosted by the foundation's founder, actress and advocate Mariska Hargitay, in LA's own Staples Center, with a goal of raising over one million dollars for the cause. 'All proceeds will go directly to helping all victims in need.' noted Hargitay, 'The aim is not to profit, but to spread awareness and end the silence on abuse. The goal is to heal.' Several other celebrity performers have also stepped up to volunteer their talents, including Hill's husband Tim McGraw and pop icon Prince. Kudos to all involved for representing such a worthy and stigmatized cause."

The counseling room door directly across the hall opened to a chorus of laughter, interrupting Mercedes' reading.

"Have a wonderful week, you two! I expect to hear good reports next week. And don't forget what we've discussed on the importance of opening yourself to new experiences." Dr. Wagner told the couple headed for the exit, gesturing the movements of an opening door with her hands in front of her chest. "The heart heals when it has the freedom and room to heal."

"Thank you, doctor. You're a lifesaver," gushed the woman, appearing to be in her early thirties.

"You're a marriage saver!" added the man beside her, apparently alluding to a private joke between the three as the comment set off another chorus of laughter. With a final wave goodbye, the couple walked out hand in hand, animatedly discussing their dinner plans for the evening.

"Sam and Mercedes? I just need to see these lovely people for one quick second before I start our session. Is that alright? It shouldn't take us more than five minutes to fill out some paperwork."

Sam smiled and nodded for the counselor, wrapping his arms around his fiancee's tense shoulders in show of their solidarity. Mercedes, still engrossed in her reading, remained silent, eyes rapidly scanning each line in the article.

"Awesome! Thank you for your patience," said the Doctor, gesturing her thanks in sign language. "Esther? Nick? Would you step back here in my humble abode?"

Nick stood first, having the better knees of the two, and helped his wife out of her chair. As Esther walked ahead, Nick stopped back and gently patted Sam's shoulder.

"Good for you, son. Not many celebrities, many men in general around your age, step forward for such a noble cause. You should be proud." The older gentleman reached for his hand and shook it. "How selfless of you."

"Yeah." Sam tightly smiled, nodding. His smile faltered a bit when he glanced at Mercedes' serious face out of the corner of his eye. "Thank you, sir."

"We've got to protect our women, you know? I hope you two have a wonderful life and a fantastic marriage." With a small bow of his head, Nick followed behind his wife, shutting the counseling room door behind him.

"Babe, this wasn't my doing, I swear it," Sam hastily explained, dropping down on one knee to see her face as she read. "You know I would never do this to you."

Mercedes resumed reading the article aloud, face void of emotion save for a quickly fallen tear slipping down her cheek and across her parted lips. "However, of all the celebrities involved, Hill and Evans deserve a unique sort of accolade for participating in an event centered on sexual violence. Like the SVU star and activist, their personal lives were forever changed by such a crime, one that linked them well before Evans' first debut with Hill onstage."

"Mercedes, please listen to me," Sam pleaded, cupping her chin. "I told you about this event a couple of weeks ago and promised you that the label would never use your name to promote this. Remember? You were there with me when I called them and spoke to my reps. I didn't authorize this, I swear to you. I don't know how this happened."

"An inside source confirmed that Yosemite Sam's off-stage lady love, a relatively unknown back-up singer named Mercedes Jones, pictured above, was sexually assaulted a year ago by Hill's estranged half-brother Donovan McMann….."

"Baby, we're gonna take care of this. I'm gonna take care of this, you hear me?" Sam took her hand in both of his and kissed it, squeezing her limp fingers. "I don't know who this unnamed source is, but we're pressing charges if we have to."

"….McMann is currently serving a ten to twenty year sentence in an undisclosed Los Angeles Penitentiary, where he is receiving therapy and medication," she continued to read, voice weak but steady. "Like most offenders, McMann was physically and sexually abused as a child and continued the learned behavior in his early teens, starting sometime during his middle school years. A total of fourteen young women stepped forward, claiming Hill's younger sibling as their assailant, but only Jones's case held up in court for his conviction."

"Mercedes, don't do this," Sam begged. "Don't shut me out. Talk to me, say something. Stop reading this damn thing and look at me."

His pleas were drowned out by the incessant ringing in her ears."Somehow, despite the shared demons of their past, Hill and Evans managed to come together and make peace. In an arena as backbiting as Hollywood, it is unusual to see artists that opt to create music instead of unnecessary tensions. Country's sweetheart is still the woman we've all come to love, and it seems that this Sam Evans might be following in her good-natured footsteps. Ms. Jones is lucky to have such a savior." Mercedes stared a moment longer at the photo of them together before calmly folding the paper in quarters and setting it aside. She took a shuddering breath, met Sam's eyes, and suddenly felt overwhelmingly ill.

"I didn't get to tell them," she murmured, sliding her hand out of Sam's grasp to hug her midsection. "The label, I mean. This stupid article is how they're going to find out and I don't even have a say in it." Mercedes dropped her head and groaned, nearly doubling over. "Why can't I escape this? Why does he follow me around and destroy everything that I care about?"

"Mercedes, I'm so sorry," Sam repeated, cupping her cheeks. "I'll pull out of the concert, I'll give up the music. Forget Faith and Donovan….forget all of that. It's you and me."

They leaned into one another until their foreheads touched, then the tips of their noses, before she replied, "No, Sam. You can't do that."

Sam's stomach dropped, and the ease he'd felt about leaving the entertainment business left him just as quickly as it came. "Why not? Is it the money?"

"It's never been about the money, Sam. You know that." Mercedes assured him, "It's about you. You've been doing so well with music. I can tell how much you love performing. As much as this news breaks my heart, it shouldn't stop you from finding happiness. In all the years I've known you, I've never seen you so dedicated and committed to something. Baby, you've been searching for so long, trying to figure out who you want to be. I think you've found it. Don't let it go because of this mess." She rested her hands atop his as his thumbs smoothed over her cheeks. "My past has taken so much already, from both of us. I want it to end. Why should this stop you?"

The article had been an excuse, his understood out. It was a way for Sam to leave the industry and still save face, without explaining his conflicting feelings to Mercedes. The only reason he was so dedicated to his work was because he knew how much it meant to her to see him working and finding his place in the world. Everything else in her life was unsure. What kind of husband could he be to her if he was unsure, too?

"I just want you to be happy, to be proud of me. I don't want to hurt you." Sam confessed. It was the most truthful thing he'd shared with her in weeks.

"I don't want to hurt you either, Sam. I love you more than anything." Mercedes sweetly declared. "That's why I can't let you give up now, not because of me. If you're happy making music, then I want you to keep doing that. This past with Donovan is my fight, not yours."

"Hey, he affected my life in a big way, too," Sam reminded her. "Remember? Gun to the head?"

"Ugh, don't remind me. I almost lost you." Mercedes gently raked her fingers through his bangs and lifted them, tracing the healed scar across his forehead—a constant reminder of that terrible day. Thoughts of losing Sam, temporarily or permanently, instantly put any ill feelings toward him to rest. "God, I forget I almost _lost_ you, Sam."

"But you didn't. I'm here, and we're still together." He smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. "We're still alive and kickin'."

"I know." Mercedes smiled back, kissing him. "I try to remember that everyday…how much I have to be grateful for. Sometimes, it gets really dark for me, you know? I have days were I just…it all feels hopeless and I want to give up. But then I turn over in bed and see you, or watch one of your concerts, and I remember everything it took to get to this place. It's enough for me. Just having you with me, seeing you so happy…." She sucked her lips in and cleared her throat, trying to prevent her voice from breaking, but failed miserably. "It makes me so happy. Hearing you sing and play motivates me to keep going. I can't even begin to explain how much that means to me."

Sam looked down, eyes shifting across the floor as he tried to work out the conflicting feelings of pride and shame her words brought. "Mercedes, what if…" he paused and straightened his shoulders, then took a breath through his nose before he met her eyes again. "What if I'm not meant to sing? To perform? I mean, I know it's your thing. I sang in Glee club and everything, but that was different."

"Are you kidding?" The light in her eyes, the joy, only spurred the emotional war. "Maybe I'm just living vicariously through you, I don't know…and please feel free to check me if I am, but… you look like you belong there. In every show, you make the crowd fall in love with you. The way you move across the stage? It's like you own it, babe! Whenever I watch, I'm just a mess of tears. Trust me, I'm not just saying this because I'm with you." She assured him, " It's like, you create this entirely new world when you're up there, and the audience is lucky enough to get to be a part of it. It's so wonderful to watch."

"Yeah?" he crookedly smiled, swallowing hard. "You think?"

"I don't think, Sam. I know," she stated, quirking her brow. "You have it all. And hey, at least one of us is making it, right? Like you said, we came out here for our careers. Even if mine is lagging at the moment, I'm so happy that I get to see something of yours launch off and take flight."

"And you're not mad about the fact that I'm kinda doing your thing? And about the article?"

"I am a little annoyed, but not with you," Mercedes confessed. "Why would I get mad at you for being sucessful? Whatever happens with my music career is mine to deal with. The only time I'd ever get mad at you is if you were doing all of this for me, because you feel like you have to take care of me. As long as this is what you want Sam, I'm completely behind you, one hundred and ten percent."

Sam chuckled when she tapped his nose. He tried his best to ignore the way guilt made his heart beat faster than normal. "Well cool, that's a relief."

"Sam? Mercedes?" The counselor beckoned the couple with her hands, ushering them into the counseling room just as the older couple stepped out to leave. Sam and Mercedes waved goodbye to them as they walked in for their session. "So happy to see you both! Any new developments we should discuss before we get to work?"

**O-O**

The first quarter of their hour long session dealt with Mercedes' feelings regarding the newspaper article and how they, as a couple in the media, would deal with parts of their personal lives being invaded. Once Dr. Warner validated her feelings of loss and anger, Mercedes felt better equipped to move forward.

"I think what hurt the most was the loss of control over what was said about me," she told the therapist, grabbing a tissue from the box on the table between them. Sam rubbed her back as she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. "I pride myself on keeping order in my life. I'm not a huge fan of chaos. So, to have something so personal, so painful, put in a public paper for anyone to read…it felt like I was violated all over again. I didn't have a choice again."

"And unfortunately Mercedes, this might happen again. You both are in an industry that prides itself on exposing the private lives of public figures. The more you try to bury it, the harder they'll dig," Dr. Warner replied, "But, I want you to remember what we said earlier. You always, always have control over your response and your person. No one has a right to your body or a right to how you react to being hurt. Anger and pain are not negative feelings. They are the body's way of responding to unsafe and unwelcome conditions. What matters is what you do with those feelings as you move forward."

"Her image is important to her," added Sam, speaking on his love's behalf as she collected herself. "She's still up and coming, with her music and everything. This happened at the absolute worst time." Sorrowful green eyes perused her face, until Mercedes met his gaze. "Babe, I'm so sorry this happened. I wish I could protect you from this."

"You can't, Sam. I mean, we both talked about this possibly happening in the future. The case and the shooting were both on the news, in New York and Ohio. Plus, you're working with Faith, and her whole life's been in the tabloids lately. We'd be naïve to think that they wouldn't look at our past, too." Mercedes shrugged. "And maybe it's good that it came out now. Like Dr. Warner said, I can control my response to this. Maybe if I talk about it, now that it's out there, it could help other people. Maybe people who listen to my music in the future can connect with that part of me, too."

"That's very insightful, Mercedes. You're right. Perhaps you could even be a spokesperson of sorts, you know? Use this negative and work it to your advantage. I'm sure there are many, many people who could relate to your story, men and women." Dr. Warner quickly jotted down some notes on her notepad before setting it aside and clasping her hands. "If you'd like Mercedes, we can set up some separate one on one time after this session to focus on your individual concerns. But right now, since this is scheduled couple time, I'd like to focus on how you two are doing in terms of relating to each other. To start, I'd like you both to give me one adjective to describe how you're feeling about your relationship right now."

"Angry," Mercedes replied, folding her arms.

Shocked by the sudden change in mood towards him, Sam pulled away from her and moved back towards his own seat, twiddling his thumbs. "Confused," he answered honestly, frowning when she sighed at his response.

Dr. Wagner observed their body language and made note of their verbal and physical responses to her question. "Okay, great start. Sam, why don't we start with you, since we haven't heard from you yet. Why confused?"

"She keeps doing this!" Sam insisted, gesturing wildly over her body. "One minute, I can touch her. The next minute, it's like I'm the worst person in the world. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

"Okay." Dr. Warner wrote down his comments, then turned to Mercedes. "What about you, Mercedes? Why angry?"

"Because Sam hates the way I spend our money and he's the one that's always upset, but I can't figure out why because he won't tell me!" Mercedes explained, throwing up her hands. "If I'm confusing, it's because I already have a lot of stuff on my plate to deal with. I don't need relationship issues on top of them."

"What do you mean you don't need relationship issues? You think I'm creating them on purpose?! You're the one that's been extra cranky and extra tired and buying up everything in sight!"

"Sam, stop doing that. Stop throwing our finances in my face," Mercedes warned.

"I will once you start respecting them! I'm trying to keep a roof over our head, Mercedes. I'm trying to take care of us so you don't have to worry about it!"

"I get that, but every time you mention money, it just reminds me of the fact that you're the one supporting me, and I hate that," Mercedes replied, a bit more calmly. "I told you, I only buy the things we need. I can't get the generic brand for everything, Sam. Quality sometimes outweighs quantity."

"Okay, I'm hearing a lot in this bit of dialogue," Dr. Warner intervened, circling the air around them with her hands. "The most apparent issue seems to lean towards division and management of finances, so let's start there. Sam, what I'm hearing from you is that you don't like the way Mercedes is spending money because you think it's frivolous, correct?"

Sam breathed deeply and nodded, "That's true. I don't like it."

"And Mercedes, you seem to be insisting that everything you buy_ is_ a necessity. I'm also hearing that you hate when Sam complains about money because it reminds you of your dependency on him. Is that right?"

Mercedes sunk a bit lower in her chair, crossing her arms and looking off to the side as she grumbled. "I guess, yeah."

"Well Sam, let's start with you. When you say Mercedes spends a lot on meaningless things, are we just talking about groceries here?"

"Well, sometimes it's been clothes or a designer bag, but lately it's been groceries," Sam noted. "She keeps buying all these expensive brands, the stuff she used to stock the apartment with before…." Sam faltered and glanced at her.

"Before what, Sam?" the doctor probed. "Before the change in income?"

"No, that's not what he wants to say," Mercedes refuted with a shake of her head. "He was going to say before my father stopped supporting me financially." She finally turned to face him, but her tone was more neutral than angry. "Am I right?"

He had promised her that he would be honest, even if it hurt her feelings. Lately he hadn't been keeping that promise, but he fully intended to break that now, while they were in the safety of the counseling room. "Yes. But you know I'm not trying to rub it in your face…."

"I know," she remarked tiredly, blowing out a slow, even breath. "I know. And you're right, I have been doing that."

The ease of admission surprised both parties in the room. "Why have you been doing that, Mercedes?" asked the counselor, though she already suspected the answer.

"I've been accustomed to a certain lifestyle my entire childhood, Doctor. I'm not naïve, I know I've had it better than most. Not everyone has been as fortunate to grow up without worrying over money." She offered an apologetic glance to Sam. "But I'm not materialistic, not really. I just like the security that money brings, you know? Just knowing that I have it, just in case, makes me feel better. And when I go out and splurge on things, well….things feel normal."

"Like when your dad was in your life?"

Mercedes bent her head and nodded, feeling her throat tighten. "I can live without designer jeans and expensive handbags, honestly. I just like how familiar it all feels. Losing my dad and my chance to release my album really left me lost. I needed control over something, and money was always the most accessible thing to control."

"But, and I know you might get upset at me for mentioning this, since Sam is the major breadwinner at the moment, don't you think it's fair to share these things with him? Not just how you spend money, but why you spend the way you do?"

"I really miss having my own money. I hate depending on people." Her eyes began to cloud with tears, and instinctively, she moved closer to Sam until their sides touched. "I love Sam, but I liked having my own. That was another security for me."

"I completely understand that. Independence is a wonderful feeling. Most people are reluctant to give it up." Dr. Warner nodded, noting the change in proximity between her two clients and the way Sam slowly slipped his fingers through Mercedes' own to hold her hand. Her female client didn't protest. In fact, she rested her head on his shoulder. "But Mercedes, you do realize that a marriage is all about interdependence, correct? It is the ultimate test on patience and sharing. Becoming one means more than just the physical. Your lives are about to be intertwined in many ways, including financially. There is no yours and mine anymore, only our."

"I know that. I don't mind sharing everything else with him." She looked to Sam and told him directly, "I love sharing things with you."

He smiled and kissed her nose. "Why not money, then?"

Feeling suddenly exposed, Mercedes buried her face in his neck, unable to face him. "Because, what if you leave?"

Right away, it all made sense to him. Her father pulled away from her and took her security away, in the form of money and verbal affection. Mercedes was afraid to rely on him and share everything because she thought he would pull away, too. She desperately bought familiar, expensive things to fill the void, but secretly waited for the day when Sam would get fed up with her and leave her behind. If she didn't have him in her life, at least she'd have her purchases. She'd have something familiar and secure.

It was the way he felt about music. If he failed at art like he failed at everything else, at least he'd still make enough to provide a comfortable life for them. Security meant everything.

Mercedes had been saying those words over and over, but he finally understood what she meant by them. And frankly, it only made his anger towards Mr. Jones even worse. Treating his daughter the way he did was destroying their relationship.

"Mercedes, how many times do I have to remind you that I'm not going anywhere? I'm not your father. I'm not going to stop loving you because you're not perfect." Sam said gently, pressing his lips to her forehead as he spoke. "You're my forever, princess. I promise you that. And I don't mind if you go out and buy a fancy thing or two, because money was made for spendin' and enjoyin'. I just want to know about it first. Keep me in the loop, okay? I'm trying to make sure we can still afford to pay our bills."

"I hate that you even have to worry about that." She sniffled, clutching his shirt sleeve. "You shouldn't have to worry about me."

"Mercedes, I'm going to worry about you no matter what, money aside. You're going to be my wife. You're my priority." He lifted her chin, smiling when their eyes met, and added. "You're my family. I love you."

Mercedes offered a sad half-smile in return, letting her tears fall as she leaned in to kiss him. "I love you, too. I'm sorry I've been pushing you away."

"I'm sorry I didn't understand," Sam replied, leaning back in for a second kiss even gentler than the last. "I just don't want us to end up homeless, you know?"

He laughed, but Mercedes' entire face dropped at the comment. "Oh my god, I didn't even think about….Sam, you told me that was a fear of yours and I didn't even take it into consideration. I wasn't trying to hurt you like that, I swear. I wasn't thinking."

He hushed her apologies, tapping a finger to her lips. "I know that now."

Dr. Warner, observing and writing notes throughout the entire exchange, smiled at their progress. "Very good dialogue, you two. I must say, once you both clear the air, I can truly see the strength of your relationship." She set her notepad and paper aside, folding her hands in her lap. "Sam? Are you still feeling confused? We didn't address your adjective directly, but it sounds like we've worked through most of what's been confusing you lately."

"Well, I did have one more thing," Sam reluctantly added. "The mood swings. I mean, is it just because of what we talked about or is there more? I've seen her stressed before, especially during that whole mess with Donovan, but it's never been this extreme."

"Honestly Sam, I think I'm just on stress overload lately, that's all." Mercedes directed the conversation to the counselor. "I can't ever get enough sleep lately, I've barely been keeping anything down but fruits and water, and the lack of food and rest has really left me on edge lately. Plus, the conversation with my grandmother last week didn't help at all."

"Crap, I forgot about that. That would explain it. " Sam sighed. "Is she still pressuring you about Christmas?"

"Christmas?" questioned Dr. Warner. "What's happening on Christmas?"

"My grandma Nettie called me after Thanksgiving, asking why I didn't come to her house for dinner like I always did during the holidays. Apparently, my dad refused to talk about me and my mom told her that she should talk to me, since dad and I didn't share much of the details with her. So, I was saddled with the unfortunate task of telling my only living grandmother that her son no longer considers me family. Naturally, that started this entirely new shit storm," Mercedes said with a roll of her eyes.

"Mercedes and I were on a five way call with grandmother and her parents for hours," Sam added, rolling his eyes alongside her.

"Well, you know my grandma Nettie, when she demands an explanation, she usually gets it." Mercedes sighed, rubbing her temples. Just the thought of that conversation gave her a headache. The entire time, from start to finish, was nothing but yelling voices speaking over one another and throwing around each other's names.

"Anyway, long story short, she wants Sam and I to come down for Christmas dinner so that we can all 'come together in fellowship' or whatever. That's code for 'Mercedes has to apologize to her father and bring the peace' but I ain't having it. Not anymore." Mercedes declared with finality. "She also says that she has something important to tell me, but she can't do it over the phone. I was going to use Sam's family as an excuse not to go, but we'd already spent Thanksgiving with them."

"Plus, it wouldn't be right," Sam shook his head. "We're adults. We don't run away from our problems."

"Mama Vic and Pop would be proud of us, babe." Mercedes smiled, squeezing his hand. Sam brushed a kiss across her knuckle and nodded. "So, we're going, but every time I think about it, my stomach starts churning and I feel like I'm going to faint. Even now, just talking about it…." she fanned her face and rubbed her stomach. "I've just been carrying a lot of weight around lately."

"Are you sure this is the right time to confront your father, Mercedes? Do you feel ready for this?" the doctor asked, concerned for her client's mental well being. "It sounds a bit like you're walking into a lion's den."

"Well, it's a good thing I have God on my side, then," she replied confidently. "Right, Sam?"

"Worked for David." He shrugged, playfully bumping her shoulder. "Plus, I'll be there with her. If it gets too heavy, I already told Mercedes that we're outta there straight away. I'll make sure nothing happens to her. It's my job, after all."

"Speaking of jobs, how's that going for you Sam? Your singing career and all? We've discussed some of the concerns you've had in the past with your perception of your body. How are you handling all the attention? How have your stress level and eating habits been?" countered Dr. Warner, shifting her focus to Sam so quickly that it caught him off guard. The tactic was intentional. In her studies of him, she knew that Sam responded most honestly when he felt a bit backed into a corner.

"They've been okay," he lied, rubbing his sweaty palm against his rapidly bouncing knee. "You know, I can't complain. I'm lucky."

"I didn't ask how you feel about being in the spotlight, Sam. I asked you how well you were handling it. There is a difference," She pointed out, glancing briefly at his moving leg. It stopped bouncing almost immediately. "Mercedes, have you noticed anything unusual about his eating habits? Any changes? And has he been staying away from the scale?"

"At home, yes. And he's been eating full plates of things. But honestly, he's away most of the time now for concerts and gigs during the winter break. He tells me he's been alright, but every time I ask, he's just been giving me short answers. I'm not sure if it's the entire truth." Sam glanced at her, appearing wounded by the suggestion. "I can't lie, Sam. That's what I've noticed. Plus, I know you don't like to talk about your body issues."

"Maybe there are no issues to discuss and everything I've told you has been the truth," he testily replied, pulling away from her. "I _have_ been eating well, and I_ have_ stopped my daily weigh-ins. I don't always like being in pictures and stuff, but I haven't been obsessing over my image or pinching my fat in the mirror as often as I used to. Am I perfect? No. But I'm trying my hardest, alright?"

"Okay Sam, no pressure. I just wanted to check in on you, alright? There's no need to defend yourself here. This is a safe place." The counselor assured him, gesturing to the area around their seats. "Let's continue on to more neutral topics. Now, we've only seen each other a few times, so we haven't gotten down to talking about your impending nuptials. Have you guys given thought to when you'd like to get married?"

"After graduation."

"After my Grammy."

Sam and Mercedes shared puzzled looks, confused by the other's response. "Baby, we've already discussed this. You know I want to wait until my career's more established before we get married," Mercedes reminded him in a careful voice, wary of starting another argument. "Don't you remember?"

"Yeah, we said that in the beginning, but I thought we agreed later that we would get married after graduation, since you'd gotten a head start on making your album." Sam answered in the same, careful voice, glancing at their counselor.

"But that was before the label made their changes, Sam. Right now, I couldn't be further away from my album release." It was a sad truth, one she hated to admit, but a truth all the same. "I'm not even sure when I'll ever get there. I'm still trying to figure out my next step."

"So where does that leave us?" Sam despondently asked, eyes wide and fearful at the implication. "Are we just going to stay engaged until your career jumps off, whenever that happens?"

"I…I don't really know." She shyly shrugged, biting her lip. "When I thought about marrying you, I pictured us both already set in our careers. Me in music and you in…..whatever you decided on."

Sam decided to take the comment as one of honesty, without malicious intent, but it still hurt whenever she brought up his career. Instead of accidentally saying the wrong thing, he bit his tongue and nodded.

"Well, we don't have to make any final decisions today. This is just to start some dialogue, to get your mind geared toward marriage," said Dr. Warner, hoping to keep the rest of their session on a lighter note. "You've already combined accounts and are currently sharing an apartment and bills…have you guys given any thought to where you might live once you graduate?"

"Here in Los Angeles."

"Kentucky."

Again, the couple shared puzzled glances, only this time they failed to hide their annoyance. "Sam, what the hell is there for us in Kentucky? I can't have a singing career down there!"

"Sure you can! I just thought we could travel to jobs. Lots of celebrities do it, Mercedes," Sam stated matter-of-factly. " We should be near family, Mercy. I would have suggested Ohio, but I know things are a bit tense between you and your family, so I thought that we could be near mine."

"We could visit them! Why on earth would I want to live in Kentucky?" The ridiculous suggestion shredded the last of her patience. "I know you liked the small town country life, but I didn't. It was terrible for me. The south doesn't have the same opportunities that Los Angeles has for people like me."

"What do you mean people like you, Mercedes?" he squinted, suspecting the very thing she wasn't saying. "Are you making this a race issue? Because I can assure you, black successful people do exist in other places besides the big city. I mean, your parents, for heaven's sake!"

"My parents aren't the norm, Sam. Besides, we're not going to be doctors and lawyers. We're artists. We need exposure and opportunities to network. Los Angeles is where we need to be for that to happen!"

Sam threw himself back into his seat and pouted. Try as he might, he couldn't find an argument to her logic. "Okay, but are we only going to move somewhere for our careers? What about other things that matter, Mercedes? What about when we have kids? Don't you want them to be near family? If we're going to be this power couple, all rich and successful, we're going to need help."

"Sam makes an excellent point, Mercedes. Have you two given any thought to children? Are you both currently sexually active?"

"Yes, but we take the necessary precautions. It's not like I want to get pregnant right now." Mercedes scoffed, laughing off the notion. "Besides, children are a long, long, long way off…"

"Exactly how long, long, long are we talking?" sassed Sam, eyeing her curiously as he waited for her answer. "I'd like to have our kids sometime in the next decade or two you know, while we can still chase them around…. before I have to replace my hip and have my food pureed for me."

"Don't you want to travel first? See the world? Experience things? Sam, we're not even in our twenties yet!" Mercedes exclaimed, shocked that their views of the future were so drastically different. "I want kids with you, but not before we get to enjoy being a couple. I want memories of just us, before we add any little mini-me's and mini-you's into the mix."

"Mercedes, how much more can we really do as a couple that we haven't already done? Why can't we travel and explore the world with our children?" Sam retorted, "We've been through hell and back together, endured more than most couples have, and survived it. We survived, Mercy! Do you know how rare that is, how rare what we _have_ is? If this whole journey with you has taught me anything, it's taught me that life is too damn short to settle. You've got to grab it by the reins and ride it full gallop into the sunset, no holding back, just full speed ahead. We have enough memories and stories to last us several lifetimes already!"

"But don't you want more than these stories, these memories? I don't want our story to be only about my abuse or our struggles to make it. That's not all of who I am, of who _we_ are, is it? Yes, we're survivors, but we're more than that! I want to tell them about our adventures together, while we were still young enough to do reckless things. I want to be more than just pain and struggle. I want more for us, Sam." Her voice softened as she took his hands. "I want everything with you."

"I want everything with you too, Mercedes," he replied, voice equally as soft, laden with heavy emotions he couldn't quite place. "That's all I want."

"And here is where we find our even ground," Dr. Warner remarked, matching their hushed tones. Her voice broke their connection. For a moment, neither of them remembered that she was still in the room. "You both want exactly the same things. The heart of you matches perfectly. I believe that you just have different definitions of what 'everything' means to you." The quiet timer beside her chimed the hour, signalling the end of their session. The counselor silenced it and made a few final notes before standing. "Before we officially end our session, I'd like for this week's homework assignment to focus on communicating each other's needs and wants in ways other than the physical."

"What does that mean?" Sam asked, a bit slow on the uptake. Mercedes nodded, like the assignment made perfect sense to her.

"It means no more silent treatments or communicating things you want to say with body language. Use words. Be honest with each other. Say what you're feeling without attacking each other. We're so used to being self-contained as individuals. But when you're in a relationship, you must voice your thoughts out loud. Don't assume that your partner understands you like you do."

The couple glanced at each other and nodded, silently agreeing to the terms amongst themselves. "Okay, sounds easy enough."

"Ah, ah! I'm not done!" she sang, wagging her finger between them. "This assignment also means that for the week, you two are connecting _only_ by talking."

This time, Sam caught on immediately, and the look of utter horror on his face near destroyed Dr. Wagner's sense of decorum. Mercedes frowned as she observed Sam's shaking head and her counselor's quivering lips, utterly confused. "Meaning?"

How could she contain herself? One of her clients looked like he was about to fall over and pass out if she confirmed his worst suspicions, while the other observed her as if she were an abstract painting she was trying to understand. They were pure, innocent comedy. "Meaning that for the next week…." she dramatically paused, grinning in Sam's direction.

"Don't say it, Doc. Not that." He groaned, dropping his head into his hands and rocking from side to side, "Say anything else but what I think you're going to say…"

The counselor cleared her throat and straightened up, removing all traces of humor from her face to deliver her next line as dramatically as possible. "No sexual intercourse."

"God, WHY?!" Mercedes yelped in fright when Sam fell to his knees, shaking his fists to the heavens. "Do you see the woman you gave me? Do you see her? This is the worst temptation ever!"

"Sam, stand up. You're being overly dramatic…" Mercedes tugged on his arm, trying to pull him up. He turned toward her, pulling away before shooting her a wild look.

"Overdramatic? I'm being overdra—am I the only one in this relationship that remembers how good our sex is? Because I feel like I'm the only one mourning the loss." He groaned again and doubled over, pained by his own words. "Oh god, it's already a memory! Mercedes, do you understand? Seven whole days and nights! No more midnight 'snacks' with the chocolate sauce and the whipped cream! No more ring-a-ding the ding-a-ling! No more of that curl and twist thing I do with my ton—"

She slapped her hand over his mouth, feeling her cheeks and chest burn as she awkwardly smiled at their flustered counselor. "I'm sorry, he really has no filter. We're still working on it." Once she felt it was safe, she moved her hand from his mouth, and his despaired rant gave way to the saddest puppy dog eyes and a trembling pout.

"Seven whole days? Are you sure, Doctor?" Mercedes asked, gently running her hands through his hair and raking her nails over his scalp. Even though she didn't present it in the same fashion, Mercedes was equally as devastated by the news. "Is that healthy? I mean, we…Sam and I…it's part of our routine now, you know?"

"Precisely my point." Dr. Warner opened her counseling room door, ushering them out. "You need new habits. New routines to connect. Talking instead of doing can be one of the most sensual experiences for a couple, even better than sex! Remember that, test it out, and you'll be just fine for a week."

"She's obviously never had sex with one of us," Sam muttered under his breath. Mercedes understood what he meant, but still side-eyed him for the poor choice of words as they walked out.

They walked to their car and sat in their respective seats, leaving the engine idle. A moment of silence passed between them as they processed their session and the homework assignment given to them.

"You know, this might not be as bad as we think," Sam said after a long moment, surprising the hell out of his fiancée.

"Says the man that was crying less than a minute ago?" she laughed.

"I mean, we've gone longer than a week without it in high school. Maybe this will be good for us," he reasoned.

Mercedes nodded, agreeing completely. "I'm sure she wouldn't have recommended it if it wouldn't help us. Besides, we're adults. We can resist temptation, right?"

"Absolutely!" Sam emphatically replied, knocking his fist on the steering wheel for emphasis. "There's more to life that just sex, after all."

"Even if it is really good sex."

"Extremely good sex."

They stared at one another for a long moment, licking their lips and breathing a bit heavier than normal. Both sets of eyes fell to the dampened lips of their partners, and suddenly, they were far too warm, too close in proximity to think clearly.

"Sam?" Mercedes unconsciously followed the pull, leaning slowly towards him.

"Yeah?" Sam moved a bit faster, turning to face her fully, only stopping when he could feel her quiet quickened breaths wisp across his face. Mercedes slid her hands up his chest to grip his shoulders as he cupped her neck, and when his thumb grazed the sensitive spot just underneath her chin, the spot that made her throb in the most unsettling ways, her head lolled forward and rested against his forehead.

"You shouldn't….you shouldn't touch me there." She whimpered, dragging her nails across his shoulders with every caress. Sam nodded, but didn't stop.

"I know," he agreed, eyes fluttering shut as he moved in to close the gap between them. Mercedes blinked hard and pushed him away just before their lips could touch, breaking their trance.

"No, Sam. A week. That was our assignment. None of this…" She pointed between their lips and bodies. "until we work on our communication."

"Right, right….yeah." Sam cleared his throat and ran a hand over his face, still a bit dazed. "No uh, no funny business."

They straightened themselves in their seats, buckled their seatbelts, and kept their eyes focused directly ahead of them as Sam started the engine, fearful of what another look between them would start.

"We're doing this, for the good of our relationship."

"Absolutely, for the good of our relationship."

O-O

"GOD, Sam! Fuck YES!"

Mercedes bounced on his lap with such force, so eager and hungry for more of him inside her, that it took every ounce of his restraint not to explode right then. They were going to screw themselves into oblivion, Sam knew, but heaven had to understand that the feeling of her rhythmic contractions around him was worth every second before death.

"Yes baby, ride that dick." She sunk her nails into his pale back as he gripped her ass, and her legs and arms entwined around his frame when he held her hips steady to thrust upward. "Fuck, Mercy."

"Omigod, omigod…" she panted hotly in his ear. "Yes, yes, yes!" she cried, partly sobbing, partly begging for more.

Head to toe, Sam was tinged pink and taut, slamming into her body until every muscle he possessed bulged through his skin from the strain. With a loud cry, he shuddered and came, possessively wrapping his arms around her waist as she rocked hard against him. He cupped her left breast and lifted it to his mouth as her thighs began to quake around him. One well placed bite and suckle to a protruding dark nipple, and Mercedes came undone right behind him, grunting through her teeth as she bit his ear and sunk her nails into his scalp. Her lower half jerked twice, the force of her release controlling her, and the stimulation around his erection caused the flesh to surge once more inside her. Once their climaxes peaked and toppled over, they exhaled in unison and collapsed into the mattress, limbs too weak to keep their hold of each other as they fell to either side.

"How long…" Sam swallowed hard and struggled for several seconds to catch his breath before he could speak again. "How long did we make it?"

Mercedes threw herself into a full body roll and landed her dead weight on top of him to read the alarm clock lying haphazardly on the floor. "Two hours and fifteen minutes." She panted back, resting her chin on his chest. They chuckled together at the absurdity.

"Well, that's something right?" Sam shrugged, not the least bit disappointed in their failure.

Mercedes snorted a laugh. "We couldn't even last a day, Sam! We're pathetic!"

Sam shrugged again, resting a hand behind his head with a contented smile. His other arm draped across Mercedes' bare shoulders, gathering her closer to himself. "Whatever. At least we're pathetic together," he replied softly, kissing his love's wrinkled nose as she smiled. "Besides, what the doc doesn't know won't hurt her. How does she expect me to see the Promised Land every day, after I waited so long for it, and not enter? Who am I, Noah?"

"Moses, babe," deadpanned Mercedes, nibbling the corner of her quivering lower lip. "It's Moses that didn't get to enter the Promised Land."

"What? Are you sure? I could've sworn…." Clueless green eyes rolled to the ceiling, trying in vain to remember a passage Mercedes knew he'd only heard once—probably from her.

"I'm pretty sure, babe," she said confidently, kissing his cheek. Sam pulled her back before she could roll to her side of the bed, leading her with a finger under her chin to his pouting lips. Mercedes chuckled and obliged him, parting her lips to allow his tongue to slip inside.

Sam pulled back after a few moments of probing and searching, humming delightedly. "God, you're a great kisser."

Mercedes swept her hair over one shoulder and pressed her lips to his ear, whispering, "My fiancé says I'm the best kisser he's ever had."

"Yeah?" Sam littered her exposed shoulder with small, smacking kisses until she giggled. "Well, he's a smart man, keeping you all to himself. Do you think he'd mind if I tried those lips out for a little bit? 'Cause I agree, you are a phenomenal kisser."

"Ooh… I like that compliment even more," Mercedes said flirtatiously as she kissed along his jaw, nipping the hairy flesh every so often in between kisses. "Phenomenal is a great word."

She paused and hovered above him just before her kisses led to his mouth, smiling down at the crooked grin she'd fallen for almost two years ago.

"Do you know what another great word is?" he remarked, eyes dancing with mirth. She sucked her lips in and hummed in response, shaking her head. "More."

Sam tucked the stray tendrils of fallen hair behind her ear and tilted his head to the side, taking in her softer features before leaning up and kissing her, as gently as possible. Moments like these, moments of uninterrupted happiness, were so fragile. One double blink, one misplaced word or misstep, and the beauty shatters as miraculously as it came. Every soft brush of his thumb across the shell of her ear, the gentle suckling of her lower lip just before a kiss, came from a heart that cherished the joys, the moments only she could bring into his life.

"I love you so much," Mercedes whispered, and those few words held enough power to put all of his questions and confusions about life to rest. He was loved. Mercedes loved him. They were a family.

"I love you, too," he whispered back, because nothing else mattered. Anything else that came their way would be put to rest in the sanctuary of their love, as all other problems before had. Nothing too great existed for them to overcome.

"What about another picnic under the stars tonight?" suggested Mercedes, kissing his lips once more. "You can point out all the constellations I don't know, and we can bring your telescope and a bunch of blankets…"

"And hot chocolate with whipped cream…" Sam added, making sure she remembered the important things.

Mercedes chuckled and tapped his nose. "Of course."

Sam shook his head. "But, I don't want to wait that long. Come down to the art gallery with me in the meantime. I can show you how to work with clay, and we can be all Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore in that scene from Ghost with the pottery wheel."

"I'd like that." Mercedes grinned. "But don't you think your instructor will mind if I'm making out with one of her best students?"

Sam imitated Mercedes' earlier action, sweeping back his bangs and leaning up to her ear to whisper, "We'll sit in the back. She'll never know."

"Forget that, I want her to know." Mercedes declared with a quirk of her brow. "I'm the fiancée, not the other woman. Why shouldn't I claim what's mine?"

Sam blushed and looked away, tensing slightly underneath her. She frowned, curious about the subtle change in mood, but her phone vibrated underneath her pillow before she could question him.

"Hello? Rin?" Erin had reached the status of friendship that demanded her own unique ring tone. After nearly five calls a day for the past couple of days, Mercedes had the tune committed to memory, without glancing at the caller ID. "What's up?"

"Mercedes, I'm dead," Erin frantically began. "I'm dying, I'm dead, my parents are going to kill me and God's probably up there somewhere on his big cloud judging me with his judgy God stare."

"I'm pretty sure that he's not, but what happened?" Mercedes calmly inquired, rolling off of Sam to prop herself up into a sitting position. "And please, take a breath and say it slowly and clearly."

Erin took several breaths, beyond what was instructed, until she was calm enough to relay her tale. "Okay, so you know how whenever I see things' happening in threes, I think it's a sign from the universe?"

"Yes, I'm aware of your three occurrence rule. And by the way, that's a pretty biblical rule." Mercedes cleverly added, knowing it would annoy her.

"Whatever bestie, now's not the time for religious debate! We have serious matters to attend to here!" Erin freaked, huffing and groaning. "Anyway, Artie and I have been together for a while now and we started discussing taking that next step in our relationship, only I was kinda nervous about doing the big _it_ because I wasn't sure if I should. I'm not like my parents, so I didn't have any sacred, holier than thou reason for keeping my virginity, I just hadn't found the right person yet, you know? Plus, you know my past. I'm pretty jacked up."

Mercedes laughed at the description, noting that her friend sounded more and more like Artie every time they spoke. "Okay, go on."

"Anyway, then I got to thinking about what my parents, my mom really, would say about me giving it up because, let's face it, moms have this superpower where they can smell the sex on you right after. I know, I've seen it happen all the time on TV so it must be true," Erin stated, like her reasoning made absolute sense. She took a deep breath and barely exhaled before continuing on. "And then I started thinking about all the long, lame lectures she'd give me about purity and waiting before marriage and blah blah blah….But then I said to myself, Erin what are you afraid of? Mercedes is super religious and she's fornicating all the time!"

"Hey! I am not!" Mercedes' cheeks grew impossibly hot, and she heard Sam laugh and comment on the 'scrunched, constipated' face she makes when she's flustered. "Shut up, Sam."

"So then, I just decided to let it go and let the universe guide me to the right answer. I kid you not, a little after I did that, I went outside and got my first sign."

"What was it?"

"You know those geeky theater kids that do plays in the park and stuff? I passed by one of them. They were performing some original spin off play called 'A Knight's Tale: The love story Between King Arthur and Guinevere'. I mean, how obvious, right?" When the other end remained silent, Erin rolled her eyes and squeaked, "I call Artie King Arthur all the time! And he calls me his Guinevere! It was the first sign!"

"I'm not so sure." doubted Mercedes. "It feels kind of random to me."

"That's how the universe works sometimes, bestie! But, if you don't believe that, you'll definitely believe the next one," Erin confidently stated. "Guess who calls me that same night after she finished one of her sets."

Narrowing down all the possible choices of performers in her life, Mercedes came up with one name. "I don't know, your sister, perhaps?"

"Exactly! And guess what she says to me?" Erin waits a beat of silence before answering. "She says she had a sudden feeling about how serious me and Artie were getting and wanted to talk to me about the importance of safety."

"Safety?" Considering the word in the context of sex and signs from the universe, Mercedes quickly understood. "Ooohhh, safety. Right. Well, that is pretty weird."

"Isn't it?!" Erin exclaimed, "The third sign didn't come until the next day, and once I saw it, I just knew where the universe was pointing me." Taking another breath, and a quick sip of water to lubricate her suddenly dry mouth, Erin exhaled a relieved ahhh and continued on. "Artie suggests that we go to this little jazz club he found to listen to some music and hear some poetry. I'm game, so we leave right away and find the perfect seats right in front of the stage. As soon as we finish ordering our food, this older lady poet named Lady Ireland with red hair just like mine comes to the stage and recites this beautiful poem about two souls becoming one under the heavens. And Mercedes, I kid you not, the artist that was painting while she was reciting? He paints an image of these two faceless people with their bodies tangled up together, surrounded by stars, and the girl in the photo looks just like me."

"Wow." Even Mercedes had no concrete explanation for that one. "That is an awful lot of coincidences."

"Or, it's fate!" scoffed Erin. "I mean, the third one was so obvious, it practically slapped me in the face. My name means Ireland! The poet's name was literally Lady Erin, talking about finding her soul mate, standing next to a picture of a couple with a girl that looks exactly like me lying next to her forever love. After that, I knew."

"So, did the big it happen?" Mercedes asked, secretly nervous and excited for the news.

"Yeah, it did," Erin mournfully replied. "And it was amazing."

"So why do you sound like it was the worst thing ever?"

"Because I don't think the precautions we took were enough, and now I'm afraid I might be pregnant, and I've been feeling really sick and anxious lately and…..I'm a total mess!" she cried. "Mercy, help me! I'm dead! My parents are gonna kill me!"

"Woah, wait! Calm down and breathe for a moment!" Mercedes demanded, overwhelmed by the news. "Do you know for sure? Have you taken a test already?"

Sam sat up suddenly at the word test and rested his chin on Mercedes' shoulder, observing her facial expressions to gauge Erin's reply as he listened in.

"No, not yet."

"Well, did you guys use condoms?"

"Yeah, of course." Erin confirmed, "And I'm on the pill. I even used some of that sperm-killing foam stuff they talked about in health class. The lady at the pharmacy totally laughed at me for buying it. She had to dig it up from the back because no one uses it anymore."

"So, why are you stressing? It sounds like you were perfectly safe and well prepared." Mercedes told her, hoping to calm Erin's note-worthy anxiety over nothing.

"If I was, then why do I feel so off and queasy? I don't think it worked!" Erin whined, sniffling lightly.

"Well, when did you guys have sex? Maybe we could time it out and see if you might be pregnant." Mercedes reasoned, careful of her word choice.

"Uhm…." Erin bit her lip and sheepishly replied, "Yesterday?"

She heard a rustling sound, then a small collision, like the phone on the other end had fallen to the floor. "Mercedes? Can you hear me?"

The rolling belly laughter that followed—a sound that was so distinctly her friend's unique laugh—made Erin stomp her foot. "Stop laughing at me! I'm being serious!"

The laughter ended for a moment, and in the brief moment of quietness, there was a distinct murmuring of voices having a conversation Erin couldn't quite make out. She quickly reasoned that one of the voices was Mercedes, judging from the evident humor still in her voice as she spoke. When another set of lungs chorused in on her second round of chuckles, with a deeper, throatier laugh than hers, Erin quickly deduced what happened. "Hey, you weren't supposed to tell Sam! Pick up the phone and tell him to stop laughing at me too!" she insisted, face and neck burning from embarrassment. "It's not that funny."

Mercedes picked up her fallen phone, wiping her eyes and taking deep breaths to get herself under control before she replied, "It really is though, Erin. Yesterday? Really? I don't know anyone fertile enough to know that they're pregnant in twenty-four hours."

"But….I've been feeling sick." She weakly reasoned, then thought over her own reasoning. Finding humor in it, she giggled quietly to herself, shocked at how stupid it all sounded in retrospect. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm just being a worrywart for nothing, huh?"

"Not for nothing, babe." Mercedes chuckled, sighing when her laughter completely died down. "It is a pretty serious concern. Look, I'll tell you what, why don't we run back down to that drug store, buy a couple of pregnancy tests and take them together, just to be sure?"

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Of course I would," Mercedes said kindly. "What are best friends for, right? That way, if there's anything that either of us need to worry about, we can both deal with it together. After all, I've been 'fornicating' longer than you."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Erin sheepishly apologized, blushing deeper. "I'll meet you at your apartment in fifteen? There's a pharmacy within walking distance from you."

"Sure, see you in fifteen. Later!" When Erin returned the goodbye, Mercedes ended the call, glancing over at Sam's dancing green eyes as they bore into the side of her head.

"What's that for?" Mercedes asked with a smile, gesturing to the mirth in his eyes.

"Pregnancy tests? Is there something you're not telling me, Jones?" Sam joked, still giddy from the news about Erin.

"Oh hush. We have absolutely nothing to worry about on that front." Mercedes declared, cutting a hand through the air with finality. "I'm not really going to take it. I'm just going to humor Erin, you know, to make her feel better. Once she sees that I'm 'not pregnant' and she reads her negative result, she'll know that her anxiety is for nothing."

"I don't know, maybe you should take it, just in case," Sam joked, shrugging and smirking when she rolled her eyes. "Then if it's positive, we could tell Dr. Warner that I got my way after all."

"In your dreams, Evans." Mercedes laughed, hitting him with her pillow as she stood to get ready for Erin's arrival. "Raincheck on joining you for your art class today, okay? We'll meet up later for our other plans. Right now…" Mercedes slid into the silk robe strewn across the headboard, tying the sash into a knot before dropping her hands on her thighs. "I'm on damage control. Wish me luck."

Sam watched her disappear into their closet, sliding hangers back and forth on their metal racks as she searched for a suitable outfit. It was only when she was completely out of sight that Sam's smile faltered, giving way to a disappointment he couldn't quite rationalize at the moment.

"Yeah, later," he weakly murmured, far too low for her to hear.

Less than a minute had gone by since she'd left their bed, and Mercedes already felt millions of miles away from him. He'd accused her of being overly clingy lately, but the more he became aware of his feelings, the more Sam feared that he was the one holding on a bit too tightly. Maybe, in his ever changing and uncertain world, Mercedes was still _his _security. Who was he when they weren't together, when their ends and beginnings didn't meet in the continual cycling of their relationship?

Who was he, period?

"Oh Sam…Seriously?" Mercedes emerged from the closet in a purple floral dress and black leggings, waving a small book around with a look of amused disbelief. The small, colliding thud on his lap jolted him from his thoughts. "You made us thieves!"

He frowned at first, casually flipping through the book's pages, before he landed on an earmarked section that bore his scrawled handwriting. The memory of what he'd done, and where he'd stolen the book from, brought back his smile. "It wasn't on purpose! Besides, like I said before, the doc isn't going to miss one old, worn out puzzle book from the waiting room."

In their haste to get to their session, Sam had gathered up their belongings and shoved them in Mercedes' satchel bag, the same one she'd decided to wear today. The book must have been swept in with everything else. "It's kind of ours now, isn't it? Should we return it?"

"No, there's no point." Mercedes shrugged, seating herself beside him in bed. She observed as he fondly ran his thumb over the space where he'd written in their names. "Hey, look at that. We complete each other."

"What?" he asked with a curious smile, enjoying her words even if he didn't understand the context. "What do you mean?"

"Look." Mercedes pointed to the beginning of her name and drew an invisible line to the end of his, then repeated the process with the end of his name and the beginning of hers. "The M in Sam starts the beginning of Mercedes in the puzzle, but the end of my name could also start the beginning of yours. We're like a circle. We complete each other."

His eyes crinkled, overjoyed in his understanding. "Oh yeah, look at that. We do complete each other."

"I like that." Mercedes nodded, tilting her head with a small smirk as she circled their names with her finger once more. "That we start where the other ends, you know?"

Sam nodded, swallowing back the small lump in his throat that the sentiment had formed. "I like that, too."

Mercedes grinned, then gently cupped his face to kiss him sweetly before hopping up and heading out the door. Sam's appreciative gaze followed her as she walked away.

After reflecting a moment, he happily sighed and climbed out of bed to head for the shower, laughing to himself at the small moment of insecurity his love had unknowingly cured with her innocent observation.

For Sam, it didn't matter too much who he was individually. It was important, but not _most_ important, not in his grand scheme of things. What mattered most was who he was in their pairing, in this life he was trying to build with Mercedes. For her, he was her other half, the missing piece to her puzzle. That made him important—essential in her life, for the rest of her life—and for a person who'd spent years investing his heart in women who could care less about protecting it, being regarded so highly meant the world.

His future still held tons of uncertainties. Sam couldn't clearly envision what job he'd have or where he'd live, or even how many children he might have. Mercedes being beside him through it all was his only constant, beginning his endings and ending his beginnings like she had been since they'd fell in love. For now, that was all he needed to know. And what he knew, he'd protect and fight for until his last breath.

**O-O**

A few minutesafter she'd seen Sam out the door with a kiss goodbye, Mercedes heard the dull and frantic thudding of the knocker on her door, alerting her of Erin's arrival.

"Sorry I'm late." the redhead panted, her auburn locks twisted up into a lopsided, frizzy bun. "I decided to get the supplies myself and just get to it."

Russet eyes widened at the three large plastic bags in her freckled hands, one of which was shoved unceremoniously in front of her. "Erin, exactly how many pregnancy tests did you buy? I know you want to be sure, but you didn't have to buy the whole pharmacy."

"Relax, I'm not that wound up," Erin scoffed, bumping their shoulders as she entered the apartment. "The other two bags are lunch. I figured we could eat while we waited."

She rested the bags on the counter, rolling down the plastic on the outside to pull open the stapled brown bags inside. The smell of seasoned chicken, sautéed onions and warm bread wafted past their noses, delighting the senses. For the first time in a long while, Mercedes actually had an appetite for solid food.

"A chicken gyro for you and a veggie one for me." Erin declared, smiling as she took out each of the foam containers and threw away the trash. The second bag held two large Styrofoam cups with plastic lids, one of which was marked with a large M.

"With drinks too? You spoil me." Mercedes took the marked cup and opened the lid, delighted by the creamy texture and strong mango scent. "I assume the one with the M is mine."

"The M actually stood for milk. I had the guy mark it for me, so I wouldn't confuse your drink with mine." Erin nodded to the cup in Mercedes' hand. " It's a mango Lassi, in case you were wondering. You've been on a fruit kick for a little bit, right? Mine's just mango and guava juice."

"My absolute fave." She took a sip, and her eyes immediately sparkled and danced. "God, it's delicious!"

"I know, but we can eat later!" Erin snatched the yummy beverage away before Mercedes could enjoy a second sip, setting on the counter. She snatched up the bag of supplies and shoved it into her friend's hands, ushering her to the bathroom. "Tests, tests, tests!"

**O-O**

After an awkward ten minutes of waiting for each other to pee (mostly Erin, due to nerves and lack of proper hydration), the girls washed their hands and settled in the living room to eat. Mercedes set her kitchen timer and placed it amongst their food containers.

"The longest test takes ten minutes, so I figured we could just check on them all at the same time." She rolled her body backward and kicked up her feet, setting the gyro container on her stomach. After setting and adjusting a pillow behind her head, Mercedes sighed happily and dug in. Erin, still unreasonably anxious, took demure nibbles of food, trying her best to occupy her shaky hands by keeping them full.

"You know," she started, words a bit muffled around a mouthful of curried veggies. "I know this is really silly. I know the tests are going to be negative." Erin swallowed and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, setting her container down and turning towards her friend. "I just couldn't tell anyone else about this. They would have just laughed at me and told me I was stupid. You didn't."

"Well, to be fair, I did laugh at you at first." Mercedes noted, taking another bite of soft Nan bread with an amused smirk. "It's still pretty funny."

"I know." Erin chuckled, shyly tucking her hair behind her ears. "But here you are, doing this with me anyway." She grew serious, nodding to herself. "You're a really good friend, Mercedes."

"Hey, if a best friend can't be there when her girl's about to faint over an unlikely pregnancy, then what's the point?" jested Mercedes, playfully poking Erin's thigh with her foot before polishing off the last of her meal.

Truthfully, after her and Sam's forbidden after-session activities, Mercedes felt that familiar bout of exhaustion creeping back in and almost cancelled their plans. But old, energy-ridden Mercedes, the one with more free time for her friends and less bouts of crankiness, wouldn't stand for it. If Erin needed her, she'd find any way she could to be there, despite how off she was feeling. And Erin appeared grateful, utterly relieved even, by her decision.

Plus, she came bearing favorable gifts. That mango lassi hit pleasurable spots in her that even Sam couldn't reach. But alas, her straw made a wet, gurgling sound far too soon when she slurped, signaling that she was already near the drink's end. "Speaking of friends, how are the gleeks doing? They've been texting me like crazy, but I've been so busy with work and school and life to hit them back up."

"Santana told me that I have permission to slap you for that, by the way." Erin pointedly stated, waggling her finger. "For _shame_, bestie!"

"I know, I know. Chastise me later." Mercedes defensively held up her hands, blocking her face. "And no hitting, please. My career depends on this face looking fierce, thank you very much."

"Alright, I'll hold off," Erin relented, squinting. "For now, anyway."

Erin cleared her throat and took a breath, ready to unload all of her knowledge the best way she knew how—at rapid speed. "Well, Rachel and Finn broke off their engagement for like the third time because she got upset that he wouldn't follow her to New York for school. Finn's in this whole 'I'm trying to figure out who I am' phase and decided that he wanted to try out modeling, which he told her would be best to pursue up here in California. She got pissed and called him selfish and out of shape and he called her a snotty brat with ambitions as big as her nose and they both parted ways. I'm personally banking on that lasting a week, maybe two tops, but I digress. Kurt and Blaine are perfectly perfect as usual and studying in New York. Blaine's in NYADA while Kurt's a part of an internship with Vogue. The way Blaine tells it, he's already well on his way to making it in the fashion world. He even got an exclusive backstage pass to fashion week next year! Quinn and Puck are dating again, but they've decided to do the whole long distance relationship thing while she's at Yale working on her dual degree in Communications and Pre-Law. Apparently, one marathon day of Scandal and she's decided to be the next Vice President Sally Langston with prettier hair and less wrinkles. Puck's all for it, but he was stressing over the fact that his pool cleaning business hasn't been going as well as he'd hoped it would, mostly because he kept on sleeping around with his customers. Because he and Quinn are monogamous now, he's thinking about a job that's more serious and less likely to get Quinn convicted for his homicide, so he's considering enlisting in the Marines. Gotta put those muscles to good use, right?" Erin asked rhetorically, with a clever wiggle of her eyebrows.

Mercedes swallowed and nodded, mouth feeling suddenly dry as she watched Erin's mouth move at an inhuman speed. She almost interjected, but when Erin took in another deep breath, Mercedes reconsidered.

"Bee hooked Tina up with a scholarship to NYU for her psychology major by writing her an epic recommendation letter. Turns out schools really like it when you assist a licensed clinician with talking down a serial rapist, even if some people still got hurt in the process. Mike's going to join a professional dance troupe and tour around the world, so they decided to separate for a while and see where life takes them. Brittany got a job teaching ballet back in Lima and she's decided to leave school to pursue it full time. I know what you're thinking, Brittany? A_ teacher_? And who the hell knew that she's been trained in ballet since she was four?! Apparently, she's one of the best that Lima's ever seen, and her kids really love her, so it seems like a good fit. Joe's going into ministry and is thinking about joining the monastery or something, Sugar's still got more money than she knows what to do with and wants to open up an animal grooming business— which I'm _all _for by the way—and Santana's taking a year off to 'find herself', so she's moving in with Puck in January. Quinn's not worried because Santana shoots strictly for the other team, but Puck's super excited because he gets to have hot, half naked women in his house on a regular basis, even if they're not there for him. It's probably better that way anyway. How can you cheat if they don't want you, right? At least, that's how I figure it. "

Finished, Erin sighed and sipped on her drink, eyes wide as she observed Mercedes. "Did you get all that or do I need to say it again? I can if you want!"

"No, I'm good. I think I got everything in that whole thirty second word spree." Mercedes insisted, "What about you? What's going on in your life?" she gestured dismissively to the timer and the pregnancy tests waiting in the bathroom. "Not including all this, I mean. Any school plans?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I want to do something with the environment, but I'm not quite sure what yet." Erin explained with a puzzled expression. "The more I learn about my birth mom from Faith, the more I'm considering botany. Maybe landscaping? I don't know. I don't really think I have an eye for design, but maybe I can learn."

"I think that would be a great fit for you, Erin! Who knows, I might hire you to help me design my garden when I get my first house. You know, when I get all rich and famous and everything." Her smile dampened when she considered how far away that goal actually felt, but the timer went off shortly after, before she could escape into her feelings.

"C'mon, Mercy! It's time, it's time!" The way Erin bounded out of her seat, hopped over the couch and ran to the bathroom would make one think that they were looking forward to better news, like a surprise trip to Disney land or a planned visit from some celebrity. Mercedes rolled her eyes and followed behind her, dragging her feet the bathroom with far less enthusiasm.

"Tada!" Erin sang, sweeping her hand across all five negative pregnancy tests lined up along the sink. "I'm ok!"

"Of course you are, girl." Mercedes smiled with heavy eyes, stifling her yawn. "Do you feel better now?"

"Tons!" she exclaimed, then glanced around behind her. "Where are your pregnancy tests?"

"I only took one. It's on the edge of the bathtub."

Erin threw the shower curtains back and picked up the stray test. It was made of cheap plastic, the kind with a jagged rim where the two halves of the casing were sealed together, and appeared less than reliable. Out of all of Erin's purchases, this one was the most inexpensive, and she was pretty sure that the box it came in had a coupon for winning a free walkman.

"Good news to you too, I guess." Erin shrugged, showing Mercedes the results. "One line means you aren't pregnant. Congrats."

"And I've been having regular sex for a while now. Way, _way_ longer than you have." Mercedes reminded her. "You see why you shouldn't stress so much? Especially if you're being safe? Sure, there's always a risk, but it's not as great as you think it is when you're using protection."

"Yeah, I know." Erin nodded bashfully, kicking her right foot with her left. "Thanks for this."

"No problem." The girls embraced, and Erin smiled to herself when Mercedes tipped up on her toes to press a kiss to her forehead. "Now let's clean this up before Sam comes back. I don't want him catching a heart attack anytime soon."

**O-O**

"Bug, you have got to stop playing mommy to these simple friends of yours. If Mrs. Bailey didn't tell her the ins and outs of sex, that is not your job."

"How can I help it? I learned from the best, right?" Mercedes smiled at her mother's confirming chuckle, switching the phone from one shoulder to the other as she added another folded shirt to the suitcase on her bed. "Besides, I wasn't _mothering _her, per say. Erin's not simple, she knew the odds of it actually happening. I just wanted to help ease her mind, you know? Isn't that what best friends do?"

"Oh, so you guys are best friends now? Since when? " Mrs. Jones prodded, unknowingly glancing at her phone in the same mischievous manner as her daughter. "I didn't know you could afford to have friends that close, seeing as you're so busy these days. Sam calls me more than you do."

"I keep my friendships!" Mercedes argued, although her case sounded shallow to her own ears. "But I have been slipping lately, I know. I'm trying really hard, mama. This adult thing, balancing all the different parts of my life, is hard work."

"Bug, who you tellin'? I feel like I just figured it out when I had you and your brother." She confessed. "When you have two other lives depending on you, it forces you to learn. It didn't make balancing any easier, but it sure made it worthwhile."

Secretly, Mercedes enjoyed her mother's candid moments, especially when she spoke about her and her brother. She felt closer to her somehow, like she could hear the beat of her heart from the inside again. All of her strides to be a better person have been inspired by her mother's character, as a caregiver and as a woman. "I'm glad, mama. I think you did a great job."

"Aww baby, it was my pleasure." She cooed, voice sweet and rich as honey. "It still is my pleasure. I may not be perfect, but when I look at you and Micah, I just know that I must've had a few moments close to perfection to raise such beautiful people. God gave you both to me to care for, and I love him so much more for it."

Mercedes felt the tears before her chin got the chance to quiver. She sniffled and rolled the hem of her shirt around her finger, dabbing away the salty remnants with a look of surprise. "Man, mama! You've got me crying over here and everything….see, this is why I don't call you."

The two Jones women shared a laugh, and Mercedes swore she heard a few tiny sniffles coming from the other end.

"No, but in all seriousness, baby….I do miss you a lot." She admitted, sniffling once more before clearing her throat. "We all miss you over here."

The warmth between them left just as quickly as it came. "Mama, please don't start again about me apologizing to daddy…"

"Look bug, here me out. I know you're stubborn. You and your father are just alike that way, stuck in your ways. Ah Ah!" Mrs. Jones quieted her daughter's protests. "Don't argue with me, it's true. And since you both refuse to give me details on what happened, I can only assume that what happened was the same thing that happened with Micah. Your personalities clashed, you both said things you didn't mean, and it blew up into a huge mess."

"Mama, I'm not the one who pushed him out of my life. He left." The words rose like acid and burned her throat, forcing her to swallow down another familiar wave of nausea. "Why should I apologize to him for leaving me? How does that make any sense?"

"I'm not asking you to apologize because I think you were wrong. I'm asking you to apologize for the sake of peace, to reconcile!" Mrs. Jones pleaded. "Here we are approaching Christmas, the very celebration of our lord and savior coming into this world, and two of his children can't find it in their hearts to settle their differences."

Mercedes scoffed."Mama…"

"Don't mama me, Mercedes." She scolded. Mercedes rolled her eyes, opting to hold her tongue and finish packing. "You expect us to all just sit around Nettie's dinner table on Christmas all tense, ignoring it? Mercedes, life is too precious, too _short, _for grudges! Whatever he said or you said, break it loose and let it go, baby. It's not healthy, and you only have one father."

"But why do _I _have to be the one to do it, mama?" Mercedes whined, bundling Sam's boxers in her frustration and throwing them in with the otherwise neatly packed luggage. "Why can't he come to me and apologize for once?"

"You think this apology's for him? You think I'm asking for this on your father's behalf?" Mrs. Jones said incredulously, like she'd expected Mercedes to understand her motives without them being stated in plain English. "Mercedes, you may be stubborn like him, but you have a heart like mine. It's sensitive, tender, and bleeds for others. You take on the world and you hold it all in like it's your pain to keep. It's not, bug. This thing between you and your father is going to fester and grow and poison everything around you, including your school work and your relationship with Sam. I can't see that happen and not say anything. I'm pleading for_ you_, baby."

"It still feels like your taking his side, though." Mercedes argued back, eyes welling with a fresh set of tears from her mother's words. She'd touched so many truths without even knowing all that had been going on in her life. How did mothers do that? "I feel like you're asking me because you know I would be the easier one to convince."

"You know what, maybe you're right. Maybe I do think that you would be easier to convince. But believe me, it's not because I think you're weak. You came from me, so I know you're strong. If anything, your father is the one being pigheaded and childish, but I've already had my words with him." Mrs. Jones scoffed dismissively. "A lot has been asked of you in these short nineteen years, baby. A lot more will be asked of you in the future. You're a leader. I've seen greatness in you since the day you were born. This whole mess with Donovan…." Mercedes' jaw tightened at the mention. "..and now your father? Par the course, baby. I know it's not easy and I know it's painful, but I think you're just strong enough to ask for forgiveness first. Sometimes stubborn people need to be taught by example."

Mercedes felt the last bit was partially a dig at her resistance to apologize in the first place, but she heard her mother's wisdom in the midst of it. Still, the thought of saying _I'm sorry _to the man that disowned her started an inferno in the pit of her belly. She didn't even realize its full effect on her body until she unconsciously broke the small glass vial of perfume she'd intended to pack away. Luckily, the break was clean and didn't cut into her skin.

"Sam and I are coming up there for Grandma's Christmas dinner like we said we would. I promise to be civil, but that's all I can promise right now." It wasn't what her mother wanted to hear, but it was honest. She wouldn't ruin a family holiday with drama, especially not a holiday as important to her grandmother as Christmas.

"I'll have to accept that, I suppose." Mrs. Jones acquiesced, throwing the weight of her family's strife into her sigh. "But you know I'll always be praying for more, right?"

"I know. You wouldn't be you if you didn't try to fix everything. I guess I inherited that from you, too." She joked, hoping to lighten the mood. "Could you and my father please stop passing along all these terrible traits to me?"

"Too late! The transfer is already complete!" Her mother's maniacal laugh brought her smile back ten fold. "Speaking of Sam, where's my buddy? Lurking in the shadows somewhere? By now, he would've poked his way into the conversation and taken the phone."

"Sam's still at his sculpture class. He told me that he stays behind sometimes to help his instructor Bree pack up supplies. I bet that's what he's doing now."

"Oh, how helpful of him." Mercedes rolled her eyes at the false sugary sweet tone, counting down the inquisition to follow in her head. _3…2..1.._"So, he has a female art instructor? Bree's a girl's name, right?"

Mercedes smiled knowingly, understanding the concern. "Yes she is, but before you dig any deeper, Sam assured me that it is strictly platonic. There's nothing funny going on, don't worry." She assured her. Yet still, the stirrings in her lower belly said something else entirely, something she was terrified to voice. The urge to vomit started all over again. "I'm sure he'll be here any moment."

Her eyes darted to the front door, visible from her bedroom. She nibbled her lower lip, anxiously waiting for the turn of the top lock as her mother droned on about the spread of food for the coming weekends festivities. Sure enough, as if he sensed the elevation of his love's heart rate, Sam opened the door and appeared soon after.

"Hey, baby!" He cheerfully greeted with a kiss to her cheek, shrugging off his backpack. Mercedes silently mouthed her hello, pointing to the phone nestled against her ear. "Oh, sorry."

Mercedes wrinkled her nose, shaking her head as his apology, before pulling him in for another kiss. The earnest passion behind it surprised Sam so much that he forgot to close his eyes. He just glanced down his nose, cross-eyed from the plight, as she moaned and slipped her tongue between his lips.

"Mercedes? Mercedes Jones, are you even listening to me?"

She pulled away at the sound of her mother's voice, chest heaving and eyes hungry as Sam's vision cleared. Both of them were left breathless and stirred, anxious to continue. Instead, Mercedes left him with a promise— a short, gentle tap against his lips and a small wink—and replied to her mother. "Yeah mom, I'm listening. Go on."

Never one to be deterred, Sam slowly pulled off his shirt within her eyesight, arching forward to flex his abs as he stripped. Mercedes looked on with a small smirk, poking her tongue repeatedly against the inside of her cheek. Encouraged, he stripped to his boxers, tossing his jeans alongside his discarded top, and moved closer to hug her waist. Mercedes wiggled futilely in his arms and pointed to her phone, mouthing _mother _to remind him of their listening audience. An eye roll quickly followed when Sam shrugged and hugged tighter, bringing her front flush with his bare chest. He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck, unfazed by Mrs. Jones' listening ears on the line. When he licked her sensitive spot, her knees nearly gave, and all remaining concern for her current conversation flew out the window.

"Mama, can we just talk about Christmas stuff when I see you in two weeks? I still have packing to do." She barely caught her moan before it slipped past her lips and chastised Sam's teasing with a tug to the short hair covering his nape. "Yes, I'm packing this early, for me and Sam...Because, I have a lot of clothes and Sam always waits until the last minute to get his things together!"

"Hey! I do not!" Sam half-heartedly protested in a whisper, resuming his kisses along her jaw.

"Yes you do, Sam. Remember what happened when you had to pack for your summer set in Reno and I caught you before you walked away with three shirts, a pair of socks, and a toothbrush? Yeah, exactly. You need me." She said with a jabbing finger to his chest, turning away from him to continue packing. Her mother replied on the other end, hearing their conversation. "Yeah mom, Sam just walked in a minute ago. That's why I have to go. Okay, later. I love you."

Sam took the phone and shouted his own I love you's, then tossed the phone on the bed and twirled Mercedes around until she faced him. "Is this what you're going around telling people? That I can't pack my own things and I need you to help me?" he said lightly, between soft, smacking kisses to her lips. "You think I need you, Jones?"

"I _know _you do, there's no thinking needed." She smiled, cupping his face to kiss him soundly. "Just like I need you to help me with things."

"Really? Like what?"

She made a sweeping gesture across the bed full of folded clothes yet to be packed. "Like this trip, for example. It's going to be a nightmare."

"It is not going to be a nightmare. Stop being so melodramatic." He told her with a playful poke to her ribs, kissing her forehead. "I'll be right there with you when you face cyclone Jones, so it's going to be fine. You won't be alone."

Mercedes rested her head against his chest with a relieved sigh, nodding as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I just wish I didn't have to do this over Christmas dinner at my grandmother's house. If she didn't insist so much that we all come together, I would have skipped the trip." She pouted.

Sam rested his chin atop her head, pouting with her. "I know. But you're going to come out just fine. I'm there to make sure of it." he promised, smiling when she squeezed his waist even tighter and pressed a kiss to his heart. Small crisis averted, Sam's attention returned to their surroundings, observing the small chaos of clothes and belongings around them. An overpoweringly musky smell assaulted his nose. "Did you break a perfume bottle in here?"

"Yeah, earlier. I broke it by accident when I was talking to my mom. Sorry." She sniffed the room herself, and her smaller nose wrinkled in distaste. "Ugh, we might have to sleep in the living room if I can't air this out."

"It's cool." Sam shrugged with a smile, unconcerned. Three hours in art class really lifted his mood. "As long we're sleeping together, right?"

"Right. We can cuddle up and make pillow forts like we used to, maybe watch a movie?" Her palms slowly slid up his stomach and chest, curling over his shoulders until they laid flat against his back. Mercedes leaned in to trail tiny kisses along his neck, then paused, sniffing his skin. "After you hop in the shower and wash this funk away. Why are you so sweaty? And why do you smell like baby shampoo and crayons?"

"I do?" Sam bent his head and tried in vain to sniff his own neck. "How can you smell that when it smells like a old rich lady's bedroom in here?"

"They're different and distinctly _awful _smells!" Mercedes sniffed him again and visibly gagged, stepping away. "I don't know how you don't smell it, but the three of them combined is making me nauseous."

"Everything's been making you sick lately, even my cologne, and I've been wearing that shit since you met me. I think you might be the problem." Sam teased with a flick to her nose, snatching his clothes up from off the floor to toss them in the clothes hamper. "I was wrestling around with Bree's son after class today. Mercy, he's _so_ cool! He's only three, but he's close to being a better artist than me. You should see his drawings and kid is going to be legendary." He gushed, awed by the boy's promise. "Then again, Bree's an amazing artist herself, so I'm not surprised."

"So you keep telling me." Mercedes evenly noted, folding the remainder of Sam's clothes a tad quicker and less neatly than usual. "She's all you talk about lately."

"I'm telling you, I'm really learning a lot from her. She makes me do more, you know? Helps me explore my creative side. I haven't been doing too much of that lately. Most of the time, I'm just performing song covers and playing my guitar in the background. I don't really get to create anything of my own, you know? But this just….I feel alive again, babe. I feel like…..more _me, _you know? Just…" He struggled to explain, patting his heart. "God, I wish I had the words…"

"I do know. I see the difference. You're not as solemn and closed in. I'm happy Bree's helping you find that." Mercedes smiled encouragingly, ignoring the stab to her heart when he spoke of his instructor. "You should invite her over sometime. I'd love to meet her."

Sam's eyes lit up at the prospect. "Yeah! I'd bet she'd love to meet you, too. Hey, maybe we can invite her and Connor over for dinner one day. I can make my famous baked spaghetti!"

Mercedes laughed at his eagerness. "Famous by whose standards? I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who's ever tasted it."

"Well, Bree and Connor can taste it too. Then it'll gain a following." Sam reasoned, cupping her cheeks. "This is an awesome idea! Two of my favorite ladies meeting up, boy's day with the little man….hey, you think he'd like finger paints? I'll spread some plastic so it won't get everywhere, I promise. Please?"

Already, Mercedes found herself regretting the suggestion. As happy as she was for Sam, it irked her to know that she wasn't the only lady in his life. There was another woman, one who had a son Sam was clearly enamored with, who engaged creative parts of him that Mercedes couldn't. She knew it was silly, being jealous of someone she didn't know well enough to judge, especially since they hadn't met in person yet. But still, the idea of her—this hip, artsy older _Bree _woman—being familiar enough with her man to address his deep seated desire to find himself, to make him want to stay after hours and play with her kid, set Mercedes' teeth on edge. All she could envision was an empty studio and the two of them alone, leaning over the spinning wheel as they shaped wet clay between their entwined fingers.

Irrational or not, all platonic intents aside, she'd be damned if Bree got to have that with Sam. She'd lost too much already by placing her trust in people she didn't know well. She _knew _Sam. Bree was completely foreign to her, and unfamiliarity meant she was an automatic threat.

Processing what she'd just said in her head gave Mercedes pause. God, since _when_ was she so possessive of Sam? It wasn't like her. All of her feelings have really been out of whack lately. She'd have to check her calendar later and count the days to see if she was expecting her period. Stress usually made her cycle go haywire.

"Yeah, that sounds great, babe. I'm sure he'd love that." Mercedes nodded, plastering on a smile as he kissed the apples of her cheeks. "Call her now if you want and set it up. I'm anxious to meet her."

Sam did just that, digging into his backpack for his cell phone and disappearing into the living room. Mercedes zipped close the suitcase on her bed, patting it with finality, before tackling the rest of the chaos around her.

It wasn't until everything was packed away and put in their proper place that Mercedes realized an entire hour had gone by without interruption. She called for Sam, ready to pick up where they left off earlier, when she heard his laughter echo from the other room. Clearly it wasn't for her, since she hadn't said anything funny.

He was still on the phone with Bree. Her heart dropped to her stomach, rippling in its contents like a rock thrown in still waters. Bile and the remnants of her undigested lunch rose in turn, making her mouth water. The nausea crept in soon after.

"Oh god." She barely made it to the toilet before the vomit spilled through her fingers. Sam's blissfully unaware laughter mocked her as she heaved, and her fingers gripped the inner rim of the toilet seat until her veins rose to the surface of her knuckles. Soon, she thought in her irrational anger, chest burning from the acid stripping the lining of her esophagus, she'd get her bearings and wring her fiancé's neck with the same crippling force.

**O-O **

**A/N: As I said, Sam's relationship with Bree right now is completely platonic. But, it's new and exciting for him to have a friend that's a girl, especially one in his field with similar shared interests. Plus, we're getting impressions of Sam's relationship with Bree from Mercedes' perspective. As we all know, her emotions are a bit….up in the air at the moment, for reasons. **

**I'll give you more soon! Please review and tell me if this story is worth continuing. I do enjoy writing it, but I also want to make sure that my readers still enjoy reading. You can also PM me if you prefer. I just want to gauge public interest. Thank you! **


	40. Chapter 38 In Sickness & Health (2 of 3)

**A/N: How the end of September became near end of October, I can't explain. All I will say is that life hit my beta and I rather hard these past few months, which is why this update is coming so late. I apologize. I won't make any more promises to my readers I can't actually keep. **

**I...promise?**

**To my guest reader who asked about Bree and Sam's relationship, I did not forget you. However, I couldn't answer you without giving away too much of the story's future plotline. Hopefully this chapter will answer some questions? If you have more, feel free to ask. I've edited, added, and subtracted to this chapter more times than I probably should have, so any and all mistakes are most likely mine. The Jilly-bean is an awesome beta, so I will not blame her. Some of the parts of this chapter contain things that even **_**she **_**didn't get to see, so there you go.**

**Enjoy, lovelies!**

**O-O **

_**Flashback: Ohio, Three summers ago**_

"_What__'__s that one called? That cluster of stars over there?" _

_Sam and Mercedes lay sprawled side by side on a heavy comforter, surrounded by soft grass and the chirping of crickets as they observed the darkened heavens together. _

"_Those over there? Those are...uh...hold on, let me check." He let go of her hand to turn away, referencing his constellation map. He walked his fingers across the creased folds until he discovered the formation his girlfriend had pointed out. "I think that__'__s Cassiopeia."_

"_Yeah?" Mercedes smiled when Sam rolled over and immediately rested his palm over hers, lacing their fingers together again. "Tell me about her." _

"_Well, she was beautiful, but really vain according to the myths." Sam began, scooting over until he could rest his cheek against the side of her head. She turned ever so slightly toward him, glancing up to survey the smooth, glowing planes of his face, before looking down as he lifted their joined hands and rested them in the small dip created from their thighs being pressed so closely together."She bragged that she and her daughter, Andromeda, were more beautiful than the Nereids. They__'__re like sea nymphs, almost like mermaids."_

"_Like in The Odyssey?" _

_Sam tilted his head down, forehead creased as he frowned. "What__'__s the Odyssey? Is that a book?"_

"_Really? You've never heard of it? Oh man, remind me to introduce you one day! You'd love it." She emphatically gushed, gently running her thumb across his. "It__'__s so right up your alley. But go ahead, continue." _

"_Okay so, Poseidon, who__'__s like the main god of the sea, forced her to sit on a throne for all eternity, travelling along the earth__'__s axis. Half the time, she__'__s upside down, and has to hold onto her throne for dear life to keep from falling. That__'__s why sometimes, the stars are in a W shape, like now. Right now, her throne is upside down and she__'__s struggling to stay up." _

"_Wow." Mercedes whispered, awed by Sam's knowledge of the unfortunate story. When she looked again, she could clearly see the shape of the throne, nodding as she traced Cassiopeia's stars with their joined hand. "Yeah, I see it now! That poor woman. Just when she thinks her world's gonna stay right side up, it flips upside down again. Just like real life, huh?" _

_Sam nodded with a small sigh, all too familiar with the concept of existing in an unbalanced, off-kilter world. "Yep. That__'__s what happens when you offend the Greek gods...or I guess God with a capital G in our case." Their heads turned in unison after a beat of reflective silence, facing each other. Their noses bumping together brought a shy smile to both faces. "Some might say her fate was...written in the stars?" _

_Mercedes snorted a laugh and shoved his far shoulder with her free hand. "You are such a dork! That was so lame." _

"_It was not!" Mercedes shot him a wry look. "Alright, think of a better joke, then." Sam challenged. His gaze briefly drifted down to admire her profile in the moonlight, before she could catch him staring. With the culmination of mental snapshots he'd gathered over the past month, he could draw her silhouette from memory._

"_Okay, I will!" Her lips quirked and pursed adorably as she thought of her joke. "Well, Poseidon is the god of the sea, right?"_

"_Yeah?" _

"_And there was always a bunch of guys, like sailors and pirates and stuff, out on the sea back then, right? But he put her in the sky, up with Zeus, instead of keeping her with him." _

"_Mhmm." Sam had to press his lips together as tightly as possible to keep from laughing, until the rim of skin around them turned starch white from the restricted flow of blood. If she was going where he suspected she was going with this, then his girlfriend's jokes were hilariously lamer than his. _

"_Maybe he wanted to get her away from all the seamen." Mercedes looked up and wiggled her eyebrows, giggling at her own humor. "Get it? Seamen?" _

"_Yes, I do. That just might be the dirtiest joke I__'__ve ever heard from you, Ms. Jones." Sam chuckled, brushing a kiss across her forehead as his pointer finger snuck up to tap her nose. _"_Always surprisin' me.__"_

_Her nose wrinkled, but she didn't seem displeased by the gesture. In fact, the gentle touch earned a playful nip to his fingers. Sam quickly snatched his hand away, but she quickly took it back, bringing it to her mouth. The second time, he was granted a lingering kiss, pressed to the inside of his wrist. When she looked up again, Sam found thousands of glittering diamonds in her eyes, reflective of the silvery stars above them._

"_See? More surprises." Sam filed the nose bop away in his brain, under 'things to do to Mercedes more often'. On the list, it came just after kissing her forehead, but just before tickling the dip in her lower back. That one had caused one too many accidental knees to the groin._

"_Honestly, I surprise myself when I'm with you. I__'__m so different when I__'__m around you, Sam." Mercedes turned her body to face him fully, tucking an arm underneath him to hug his waist. Sam eased his hips closer to hers and lifted her leg over his thigh, shifting forward until she nearly straddled him, until they were as intimately aligned as possible. "Like this, right now. I__'__ve never cuddled up with someone like this, you know? Not unless you count stuffed animals, which I don't." _

_Sam hummed and nodded. "Does it make you uncomfortable? Is this all….too fast? I mean, I'm a touchy feely kind of guy, but...I know what we did in your grandmother__'__s bathroom earlier..that was a big step for both of us. Is all of this okay?" _

_What he had with Mercedes enriched him more than all of his past relationships, so much so that he made sure to calculate every step he'd wanted to make before moving forward. She made him want to focus on the emotional and mental intimacy between them as much as the physical, a challenge he wasn__'__t used to at all, being that he'd only dated women with shallow intentions. But, the more he found out about her, the more he wanted to discover, and the more he realized that he'd be content solely with the continuous exploration. If they never had sex, Sam could, shockingly enough, see himself being content with that. In fact, it was Mercedes who usually changed the pace of their make out sessions, with her rolling hips and groping hands underneath his shirt, her whining pleas of 'harder' and 'touch me there' that got his dick hard and reminded him of the fleshly possibilities. _

_Sam couldn__'__t have chosen a worse time to succumb to their sexual chemistry earlier today, in her Grandma Nettie__'__s bathroom of all places. Somehow, during her rewarding kisses for making such a good impression at dinner, she had unbuttoned her jeans and his hand had wormed its way inside, breaching the boundaries of her underwear for the first time at her horny insistence. The matriarch (with a bladder more impatient than she was) chose to open the bathroom door just as Mercedes moaned and eased herself down on his finger. Mortified brown eyes met mortified green, and the two broke apart and dashed out the room faster than roaches scurryIng across kitchen counters when the lights come on. _

"_Well, I think we might've ruined Nettie's birthday. And we all might be completely scarred for life." She laughed, then clarified, "But no, the only thing that made me uncomfortable was the fact that my grandmother caught us. It wasn't too fast for me. I was into it." She eased her head back until they were face to face, eyes locked and unblinking. Her gaze lowered shyly a moment before she licked her lips and gathered courage. "I...I really liked what we did and...I-I really want you to do it again to me. Your finger...it felt really good." _

_A small shudder crept up his spine from the unfiltered honesty, building in intensity as it traveled across his shoulders. They both leaned in until they were close enough for their mouths to brush together when speaking. "Yeah? I mean, are you sure?" he asked, in a purr only a fraction of the volume of his normal speaking voice. "Because I don__'__t want to rush you or make you feel like you have to do anything that you're not ready to do ye—" _

"—_do you want me back? Like that, I mean?" she inquired timidly, realizing for the first time that their physical desires might not be equally yoked. "I know that I'm not experienced or...I__'__ve never been with anyone before. I can__'__t promise that I__'__ll be any good." _

"_Of course I want you, Mercy. I always want you." Sam replied resolutely. He lifted her chin, smoothing the worry lines away from the corners of her mouth. "And of course it'll be good. Anything we do together will be good because we know everything about each other. We're in love with each other." _

_Her heart skipped five times, one irregular beat after the other. "In love? You're in love with me?" As friends, Sam and Mercedes would toss around casual "I love yous" constantly. But in their short time together as a couple, the increase in the depth of emotion had only been implied; said in roundabout ways, but never fully acknowledged. The weight of its truth, of the Amorѐ between them as lovers, hadn't fully registered. Tonight was the first time that either of them had spoken the L-word out loud in regards to their budding relationship. "Sam..." _

"_I mean, yeah. I…" Sam suddenly felt so small, confessing something as monumental as being in love to a girl he__'__d only started dating a month ago. But, he couldn__'__t ever in his dating experience remember feeling this free, this readily vulnerable with a woman. Did she feel the same way? Would she run, given his track record? "__I-I am. I know I've said that alot in the past, but I really mean it this time. You're different. And I__'__m not just saying that to get you to sleep with me. I really do—"_

"_No, I know. I believe you." Mercedes's eyes began to water as she rolled her lips in and smiled, reaching out to cup Sam's cheek. "Kiss me?" _

_Finding the request unusual after such a declaration, but far better than rejection, he leaned in and pressed their lips together, kissing her as lovingly as he could muster. When they pulled apart, he felt the shaky breath of her sigh cross his dampened mouth, then caught sight of the single tear running down the soft round of her nose. _

"_I feel it, too__. Oh god…" She whispered, shutting her eyes. "I'm in love with you too, Sam. I'm there too….so very much." _

"_Really?" Two of his tears chased after her one, meeting where the tip of his nose grazed hers. "So very much, huh?" _

"_Yeah. I didn__'__t think I was a 'falling in love__' __kind of girl, you know?" she declared with a wet chuckle, sniffling. "But you just make me believe. I__'__m not scared with you. I feel like I__ want __to try." _

"_Me too. And __I won__'__t do anything to make you afraid. I won't." He promised. "Not of me, or what we have..." Sam took their joined hands and pressed them to his heart. "I swear to you, Mercedes Jones, you loving me back is a gift. I don__'__t plan on letting go of it anytime soon."_

_Mercedes tucked her head beneath his chin, her new favorite place to rest, and nuzzled his collarbone. "__I hope not. I don'__t plan on letting go of you, either." _

_Sam pressed his lips to the top of her head, fighting a blush, and shyly asked, "You promise?" _

"_I do," she vowed as she hugged him, face scrunching as she squeezed him tight. They spent the next few moments in silence, contentedly observing the bright stars above them, made even brighter from the absence of artificial light and the bliss of their confessions. _

"_I can see why you like it over here. The sky__'__s beautiful." Mercedes whispered against his neck. _

"_Not as beautiful as you." Sam tilted his chin down to smile at her when she snorted. "I mean it. You__'re just__…..god, you__'__re gorgeous to me, Mercy. Everything about you is just stunning, even when you get crazy mad at me and sass me off. Did you know that? Even then, I just…I just love you. " _

_Mercedes took his confession in, both the words he'd chosen and the loving tone in which they were delivered, and committed them to memory. And though Sam wasn__'__t aware of it in that moment, Mercedes had decided then and there to give him free reign in a special place in her heart; an area reserved solely for the man who__'__d be in her life forever. "And I love you even when you do stupid things and you can__'__t stop rambling. You can really talk an ear off when you__'__re nervous, you know that?" _

_Sam laughed at himself and his tendencies. "Yeah, I know. I hope I didn__'__t talk your ear off tonight, though. I really love astrology, but most people aren__'__t into it like I am. When I start talking Greek, that's when everyone starts running away. " _

"_I like it, though. I like the way you explain the constellations to me and show me how you see the heavens. It__'s beautiful__." she gushed, tilting her head up to focus her sparkling gaze on the expanse of pale skin below his chin. Her insides shook far too viciously for her to dare meet his eyes. She might wind up confessing more than what she wanted to, saying things she shouldn't say so early in her first, real relationship, even more monumental than 'I love you'. The last thing she wanted was to scare him away with her visions of their forever. "You__'__re a different kind of smart, Sam. Not everyone will get that, but I get it. I think I've always understood you, even when you didn__'__t make sense. It__'__s kinda weird.__" _

_Sam chose that moment to open up the forever space in his heart and place her there. Unlike Mercedes, he was already imagining the wedding and the house they__'__d build together, excited by the possibilities. "I like that you get me. I've never found someone who, like, knew all of who I was and accepted that, you know? It's so hard to find that. And hey, you know what else I like?" _

"_What?" Her stomach flipped delightedly at his close proximity, drawing closer still as he opened up and poured out his heart. Sam's body heat mingling with hers warmed Mercedes's being from the inside out, curling about and licking her insides like the flames of a roaring fire. The hearth of his presence made the pit of her belly burn, searing quivering muscle until the blaze ate its way through to spread throughout her core. _

"_Don__'__t laugh, but I really like snuggling with you. Snuggling is like the most unmanly word in the world, I know." Mercedes smiled but, to her credit, did not laugh at him. The corners of her mouth only curled more deeply, growing closer and closer to the apples of her cheeks "I think I want to fall asleep like this, maybe for the rest of my life." _

_She happily sighed once more, and Sam__'__s thundering heart paused in ten seconds of awe when he realized that her chest rose and fell in time with his own as they breathed, pressing her normally paced heartbeat to his stilted one in the brief moments their breasts touched. They exhaled in unison, calmly and unhurried. "Then fall asleep, Evans," Mercedes softly whispered, coaxing his drooping eyelids closed with a gentle brushing of her thumbs before cupping his cheek. "I__'__ll be right here when you wake up." _

**O-O**

_**...3:58….3:59…..4:00...**_

The hour arrives quietly, without chime or the static buzz of the radio, and the right side of his bed remains empty. A groaning Sam kicks away his sheets and rolls out, stumbling around in the darkness.

Three minutes was already too much. _Far_ too much.

It had only been nine days since the new routine started, but it already felt like he'd reached a breaking point in their relationship. No human being should have to endure such torture.

"Mercedes Patrice Jones…." Sam flipped the light on in living room, scratching his bare chest and rubbing a blood shot eye as her hunched over form came into view on the cycling machine. "It's four in the morning. We both have a full day ahead of us. Get off that thing and come back to bed so we can sleep."

His panting, sweaty love glanced back over her shoulder with a guilty smile, all teeth and apology, leaving only the smallest gap to allow for the extra oxygen her body demanded of her. "Just a few more minutes, babe? I'm almost done, then I'm all yours," promised Mercedes, refocusing her gaze ahead of her as she pedaled faster. Sweat poured from her forehead, forming clear stripes across the heated skin until the salty droplets dripped from her brow and landed on her eyelashes. She flashed her head about, ignoring the sting in her eyes, and rose from her seat to place her full weight on her heels as she rode. "A few more minutes is all I need."

In the days leading up to the family gathering, when her stress and symptoms grew worse, Mercedes had decided to make some positive life changes for the sake of her health. She'd set her resolve last Tuesday, shortly after her Vocal Technique class, when Unique had to break her fall during a sudden and disconcerting dizzy spell.

Once the blackness dissipated and her head felt less heavy, the tell-tale fixtures of the school nurse's office came into view, and Mercedes realized that she'd had no recollection of taking herself there or lying herself down on the sofa. She did, however, remember the feeling of her body being carried, being touched without her consent, during her brief semi-loss of consciousness.

She hated anything that reminded her of hospitals and check-ups, ever since her attack. Sam's injury and hospitalization after nationals didn't help, either. Since then, she hadn't stepped foot in a doctor's office.

The fact that she also hated her dad at the moment, a working dentist, didn't miss her.

Whenever she felt out of control, Mercedes had a tendency to panic lately, usually to excessive proportions. And in that moment, in her panic, she did what came most naturally to her. She ran, out of the office and across campus, to her truck. She sped down every street and around every sharp corner leading to her house, then hopped out of the driver's seat as soon as she shifted into park, sprinting straight to her apartment and crashing into Sam's arms just as he unlocked the door.

After ten attempted calls and several ignored texts, he was on his way out to find her, to make sure nothing happened. He, too, had a tendency to catastrophize scenarios since Donovan caused his mayhem in their lives. Her trembling body and wide, frantic eyes didn't allay his fears.

"Sam!" she started, eyes glossy with building tears as she hugged him tight. "Home."

"Baby, what happened? What's the matter?" He immediately cradled her head and shoulders to his chest, shielding her from the threat potentially trailing behind her. When he turned his back toward the door and kicked it closed, Mercedes dropped her weight in his arms and began to whimper. Her nails dug painfully into his shoulders as she tried and failed to claw herself upright on wobbly legs.

"Home," she repeated, taking shuddering breaths. It's all she could manage to say as she panted against his chest. "Home, home, home..."

Once Mercedes could manage to formulate her thoughts into actual words, she explained what happened. Sam immediately demanded that she return to the nurse's office to get checked out, or at least allow him to take her to the emergency room. Of course, hospital-phobic Mercedes vehemently refused, citing the fall as stress and exhaustion and nothing more, and told him that she'd take care of her symptoms in her own way. If her health didn't improve by the following week, they both agreed that he could hog-tie her and drag her to the nearest hospital himself.

Fortunately, her new exercise routine seemed to work like a charm, and the need for medical care became unnecessary. Her energy slowly returned, she felt far less irritable than usual, and her body seemed to cooperate with her again. Mercedes hadn't had the slightest hint of nausea or dizziness since the change.

Unfortunately, (at least in Sam's opinion) the habit had become her new addiction. Sam, being the gym aficionado of the two, had all the dumbbells and medicine balls for her to use, but Mercedes required less weight training and more cardio. Since he had already intended to invest in equipment of some sort to bulk up his thighs, the couple agreed to splurge on a cycling machine, small enough to pull out and pack away in their tiny apartment. The obsession bonded them at first; giving them a common activity they could do together on a regular basis. Sam even gave her some pointers on pre-workout and post-workout activities that would boost energy and muscle elasticity. But sooner than he would've liked, the conversations ended, and Mercedes would return to the machine hours after Sam had exhausted himself.

It wasn't her behavior that bothered him exactly. The energy in which she approached her new routine was what gave him pause. Mercedes would ride like she was trying to escape, trying to get away from everyone and everything around her, including him. When she was in her zone, she'd become aggressive and angry, pedaling as if her enemies' faces were being pummeled beneath her circling feet. Something about it all didn't settle right in Sam's gut.

Ironically, observing her habits forced Sam to face his own ill use of exercise. He reduced his daily routine to three times a week, then taught himself to be content with the change. Meanwhile, his dear fiancée upped her routine to twice a day, once in the morning and once after classes, every day of the week. Since she enjoyed the energy boost a workout would give her before a heavy day of classes, Mercedes got up extra early to sneak in a morning ride. Sam would wake as soon as her side of the bed dipped and lifted, and despite his best efforts to reclaim sleep, he could never quite settle down again. Not without the warmth of her body snuggled against his chest and her deep, even breaths to lull him.

Thus, Sam's irritable mood, growing worse each day he was deprived of rest.

"This is getting ridiculous, Mercy. We've talked about this. I_ can__'__t_ sleep without you and I need at least six hours of rest to function," insisted Sam, irritated by the fact that he had to repeat himself every morning. "This is bullshit. Come back to bed."

"Concern for my health and well-being is bullshit?" Mercedes smiled, amused by his grumpiness. She climbed off the machine and grabbed the small towel draped across its handle, dabbing her face and neck before whipping it across his bottom. "Good to know."

Sam sighed and crossed his arms. "You know that's not what I mean. It's four in the morning, damn it. Too early for logic," he grumbled. "I have class at seven, an art project presentation due at two, then a straight evening of performance until midnight. I can't do all that without my Mercy cuddles."

"Okay, don't pout." She pinched his cheek as she passed, grabbing a bottle of water sitting on the counter, then made her way around to the dining table. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Just let me check my email and Twitter, and then I'm all yours."

"You better be," he grumbled, yawning and stretching as he scratched his belly. Reluctantly, he wobbled over and plopped into the seat next to her. Sam eyed her laptop with disdain as she flipped it open and turned it on. "If it isn't working out at the butt crack of dawn, it's this damn internet obsession. What is this?"

"Geez, sorry grandpa." She snorted, "We can't all stick to the rock and chisel you're used to."

"Ha, ha," he deadpanned, quirking a brow in mild amusement. "If I wasn't one closed eyelid away from a coma, I'd make a smart comeback about you being older than me." If he couldn't get her back to bed, Sam would settle for snuggling against her as she checked her Twitter page.

A small window popped on the screen as his eyes were closed, one of Mercedes's personal email account. Three unopened emails were highlighted, all sourced from a place called Restorative Counseling Center for Recovering Inmates, requesting the privilege of her presence on behalf of a 'prisoner in remission'.

"That's not twitter." stated Sam, lifting his head slightly from her shoulder. "Email?"

She jabbed the escape button on her keyboard, promptly closing the small screen. "Yeah, just some junk mail," shrugged Mercedes. "Ignore it."

"Alright." He shrugged, yawning. It was far too early for the blond to be suspicious, especially when his girlfriend was the world's greatest pillow.

Mercedes rubbed the cold hands that wrapped around her middle, then ran her fingers through his hair as he rested his chin on her shoulder. She turned her face to press a quick kiss to his cheek, nuzzling the spot with her nose, and laughed when he started to purr.

"Down, boy." Mercedes warned with a smirk, tapping his lips. "What happened to being tired?"

"I'm never too tired for_ that,_" he smoothly replied, cracking his first smile. Their gazes refocused on the computer screen when her Twitter homepage finally popped on-screen. "So, what are we looking at? And why is it worth my sleepy time?"

"Well, remember that article that came out a while ago in the paper, about Donovan and me and everything?" she premised, scrolling through pages of tweets and links to videos.

"Of course." He pressed his lips to her neck. "Still sorry about that by the way."

She ran her fingers through his hair once more, gently scratching near his hairline. "Not your fault," she reminded him. "No more sorrys, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Alright."

"But remember when I said I was going to use it as a positive thing? Like a platform?"

"Um...yeah? I think so?" His fiancée had the most annoying habit of asking him important questions when he was tired. It was hard to remember details when his mattress beckoned to him from the bedroom.

"Well, I've been writing songs and recording them!" she excitedly revealed, bouncing a bit in her seat. "Nothing big really, just a couple of lyrics about how I was feeling or what I was thinking, kind of like a musician's video diary. Well, Unique suggested that I put them on Twitter and..."

"Unique?"

She nodded at his questioning gaze, as if the answer didn't need words. "You remember her, right? The one you bumped into when you brought the flowers and the pancakes over? After the party incident?"

"Oh right, Unique. Yeah, yeah," He mumbled in reply, rubbing his eyes. "Haven't seen her in a while."

"Well, that's what happens when you live off campus and your friends live in the dorms. Plus, our schedules kind of clash with yours. We've mostly been texting," Mercedes explained, eyes determinedly searching for a particular video in her archives. "But anyway, I sent her a couple of my videos and she suggested that I put some of them on my Twitter page. Guess what happened, babe?"

"What? Did you shut the internet down?" joked Sam. His eyes widened at her nod. "You did not!"

"I kinda did!" she laughed, "Look! The hashtag _I am Mercedes Jones_ has been trending for twelve hours! And some of my songs have over ten thousand hits! The world likes my stuff, baby! People really love my original songs. And look at what some of the viewers wrote on my timeline." She pointed to a comment near the bottom of the screen, littered with praise.

_Mercedes, we__'__re like the same person! I had my rape plastered all over campus, with my rapist running free around school even though the university was investigating him. I love Sam__'__s music and I love you for being brave enough to speak out. Hope to hear more of your beautiful voice! #Iammercedesjones_

Another comment above, in all caps and exclamation points, came into view soon after.

_OMG, YOU JUST GAVE ME SOOO MUCH LIFE! WHY AREN__'__T YOU FAMOUS RIGHT NOW? WHY ISNT YOUR SPLENDIFEROUS VOICE GRACING OUR AIRWAVES AND SNATCHING OUR EDGES?! YOU SOUND SO LOVELY! AND I LOVE THAT YOU SET THE RECORD STRAIGHT ABOUT YOUR STORY IN THE PAPERS! PLEASE KEEP WRITING AND RECORDING. I WANT TO GO TO YOUR CONCERTS ONE DAY! #Iammercedesjones_

"This one's my favorite." Mercedes scrolled to the very top of the page, pointing out a post marked with a golden star.

_Mercedes Jones, you are the Whitney Houston of our generation. I can__'__t wait to see how your voice will change lives. Your talents, combined with your amazing spirit, will carry you far. God makes no mistakes, and it__'__s clear that he epitomized perfection when he created someone as special as you. I hope to be as confident in my skin as you are one day. #Iammercedesjones_

"When the tag started trending, some of the performers I've worked with jumped on board and promoted the cause with their own tweets. Then this morning, I get a call from Mr. Simmons himself, asking me to come into the studio this evening. Apparently, Adele's been collaborating with him on some music for her new album and he told her about me. He played a couple of my videos for her to show her my skills, and when he did, she asked him to ask _me_ to write a song for her! Can you believe it, babe? Adele, one of the greatest singers and songwriters of our time, is asking me, lil' old Mercedes Patrice Jones, to write music for her to sing on her next album because she watched one of my rinky-dink videos. How awesome is that?" laughed Mercedes, still stunned by the news. She'd saved the voicemail from Mr. Simmons and played it at least ten times this morning. "I was going to wake you and tell you, but you looked so peaceful..."

"You should have!" exclaimed Sam, "Hell, I would've been awake anyway." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the tightest hug and pressing a smacking kiss to her temple. "Mercy, I'm so proud of you! I knew you'd make it."

"Thank you, Sam," Mercedes warmly replied, pleased with his support. "Plus, you know what this means for us, right? All this exposure means I'm one step closer to working on my album again! If the label sees my music is a wanted commodity, I can persuade them to support the project. Plus, in the meantime, I'll be songwriting for Adele and hopefully other artists, which means I'll be making my own money again, which _means_ that I'll be able to buy all the delicious Tahitian mangoes I want without spending your money!" She grinned at the comfortable, well packaged logic, slapping her lap. "Isn't that great?"

Sam put all his effort into smiling back, fighting to keep his eyes open. "Yep. And one step closer to walking down that aisle, right?"

"That's right. One step closer to that, too." she cooed, pinching his cheek. She noticed the purplish bags under his eyes for the first time, running a thumb across the swelling. "Oh goodness, you're dying, aren't you? Sammy, look at you."

Sam was too exhausted to lie. His late night art projects and rehearsals for the night of healing event left him dangling off the edge of sanity. His head dropped to her shoulder and slowly nodded. "Sam want sleep." He grunted, weakly pounding his chest with a flopping fist. "Sleep want Sam."

Mercedes giggled, pressing her nose into his unruly hair to inhale his scent. "Alright, I'm coming. We'll celebrate tomorrow, okay?." She pressed several kisses to his forehead before rising from her seat, quickly shutting down her laptop and making her way to the kitchen. "Just let me get my little after workout treat from the fridge and then I'm all yours."

"After workout treat? I thought that was me."

"Ha ha. Let me find out that late night Sam can crack jokes." Mercedes teased, opening the fridge. Her eyes darted to the large box on the second shelf. "I couldn't take advantage of that particular treat anyway, even if I wanted to."

"Why's that?" Sam rose from his seat to stretch out his limbs, making the move while he still had the energy to get up from his chair.

"Well, for one..." Mercedes snatched the box with one hand and kicked the door closed, tossing it on the counter as she spoke. "We made a commitment to take Dr. Warner's challenge seriously for two whole weeks this time, which means no funny business until after our trip to Nettie's this weekend."

"No funny business happening there anyway," Sam mumbled under his breath with a frown.

"And two..." she flipped open the lid on the box, taking one of the golden fruits out to peel. "Mother Nature finally decided to show up this morning and spoil your plans."

Sam's eyebrows wearily lifted in question.

"My period came today, heavy as a monsoon," she clarified, slicing the sides of her mango. "I told you, once I get the stress and diet under control, my body starts cooperating again." She casually took a bite of the cold pulp, moaning at the taste of sugary sweet she'd earned for her morning labors. "There goes your ridiculous theory, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so." The news, for some reason, violently stirred him from semi-consciousness. Since her fainting spell, after Mercedes refused to seek medical help, Sam decided to look into her symptoms online, just to see if they had anything to be concerned about. Fainting and signs of fatigue all pointed to several ailments, from dehydration to forms of cancer. Frightened, Sam decided to be more specific and also included vomiting, nausea, and sensitivity to smell. Literally, once he specified the search, page after page of pregnancy articles detailing the same symptoms popped up on his screen. He read every single one of them, nodding at the accurate descriptions of early trimester issues in regards to his fiancée, and ran to Mercedes to share the news. She nervously laughed off the notion, calling him 'insane' and 'baby obsessed'. Maybe she was right.

"I mean, It would've been _hell_ if I was...you know." She muttered, unable to say the dreaded p-word out loud. "I mean, that would have just been too much on both of our plates. A complete disaster_._"

"Really? A complete _disaster_? I think that's a bit much." Sam refuted, annoyed by her aversion to the idea. "I mean, it wouldn't have been that bad if you were...you know."

Mercedes frowned deeply, cheeks bulging with mango pulp. She quickly swallowed to answer, "Are you kidding me? In what way would it have been _good_?"

"Well, I mean you know, besides the fact that it would have been a product of our love? That we'd be freaking _amazing _parents together? Not good at all." Sam sarcastically replied, pouting slightly. "Carrying my child would be absolutely _horrifying_, right?"

"Sam..." Her voice softened and wavered, like the truth had caught in her throat. She set her treat aside and walked over to him, cupping his jaw with her sticky hands. "That's not what I meant. I'd love to carry your child someday, you know that. But right now, we're doing school and work and so much else...how could we have managed a baby on top of that? We're in no place mentally to worry about another life right now. _I'm _not, at least. And with all that's going to happen this weekend with dad and Nettie, I just..." The thought of another stress added to the mix made her shudder. "No. I think I'd just give out completely."

"You're talking like you don't have me around to help you. I'd be there. I'm here right now!" Sam declared, feeling the need to re-state his presence in her life. "This weekend and everything else is going to be just fine. Even if there was a baby, we would be just fine because we'd handle it together."

Mercedes smiled at the note of encouragement. It was sweet, though a bit naïve. Life wasn't always as neat as Sam envisioned it. At times, Mercedes felt her purpose in Sam's life was to lift the rose colored glasses from time to time, to remind him of the fangѐd dangers in the shadows. "I know we would be. But thank goodness we don't have to worry about it, right?" She gently patted his cheeks and returned to her sliced fruit.

"Yeah. One less thing, I guess." He half-heartedly smirked, wiping his face clean with his knuckles. Still, his heart sank at the lost possibility. He'd been so sure. When he read all the articles and had all the information presented before him, it felt like proof. In his heart, he'd already prepared for another addition to their family. As silly as it sounded, it gave him hope that everything between them was destined to work out in the end. "So, should I throw out that pregnancy test in the medicine cabinet then?"

"No, I'll do it. I planned on cleaning out the bathroom anyway when we come back from Ohio. Erin must have left it behind by mistake." There was no real reason why Sam or Mercedes couldn't have walked into the bathroom right then and thrown it away. Both felt content to leave it there for now, as they did their conversation on the topic. "You want a slice? These mangoes so addictive, I swear."

"No, I'm good." Sam replied, pressing his lips together to stifle another yawn. "I'm just going to head to bed and wait until you come in."

"Alright." She leaned over to kiss his lips. "Love you. I'll be there in a minute."

Before Sam could make it to the bedroom, she called him back. "Sam? I had three mangoes in here. Did you eat one earlier?"

"Oh no, I gave one to Bree. She was over here earlier today helping me on another art project I've been working on and asked me if she could have one. I told her it was cool." Sam explained, frowning when he noticed the hardening of her jaw. "I did something wrong, didn't I?"

"No, I just..." Mercedes struggled to find a way to explain that it really _wasn__'__t _okay to give away her prized possessions to some artsy female bombshell stranger without sounding like the irrationally jealous girlfriend. "I would _prefer_ if you told me when she was coming over. The place is a mess. If we're having guests over, I want to prepare for them."

"It's just Bree. She's not a _guest_ really," Sam dismissively countered. Their apartment was also practically spotless, save for the cycling equipment that Mercedes still had out in the living room, but Sam knew that it wasn't the time to argue that point. He just wanted sleep. "But I'll tell you next time. It won't happen again."

Mercedes tossed the remaining mango skin and seed into the trash, taking a breath to regain control of her emotions. "It's fine, babe," she replied tightly, smiling to ease the strain in her lie as she wiped her hands in a paper towel. "Any friend of yours is...always welcome."

"Yeah, that was totally believable." Sam smirked, gathering her in his arms once she was in close proximity. "I get it. No girls in your territory without your permission." He tilted his head, observing her. "You know, you're adorable when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" she shrieked, stomping her foot and crossing his arms.

"And I'm not blond!" Sam replied in the same pitchy voice, mirroring her stomp and arm cross. Mercedes smiled in spite of herself and gently kicked him in the shin.

"Okay, maybe I'm a little jealous." She shrugged, relieved to voice it aloud. "I'm really protective of you, Sam Evans. You know that."

"No need to be. You and I have something one of a kind, Mercedes Jones. It's unbreakable." He promised, wrapping his arms around her once more and resting his forehead atop hers. "Bree or anyone else won't ever be able to touch it, you hear me?"

"I don't know if I can believe that," she teased, curling her arms around his waist. "I mean, you invite her in, offer to cook for her, spend _hours_ on the phone with her, then you're giving away my mangoes..."

"_One _mango," Sam clarified, kissing her nose. "And I should have known better. The damn things are your brand of crack."

Mercedes kissed his lips as her body shook with laughter. "Shut up, they are not."

"Besides, I think I understand where you're coming from." Sam carefully slipped a hand under her shirt to cup her breast. She yelped in surprise, then moaned when he gently squeezed. "These are my mangoes, and I'd _hate _it if you shared with someone else."

"I don't like sharing, Sam." One peck turned to two, then three in rapid succession.

"Me either." Their kisses grew deeper, all nibbling and teasing flicks of the tongue, until Sam roughly pinched her nipple.

"Ow! Baby, don't." Mercedes hissed, pulling away from his touch. "Sensitive. Period, remember?"

"Damnit! So sorry." he cried, yanking his arm away. His hand hovered over the offended breast. "Shit, you just told me and I forgot already. It's been a while since we've had—"

"—to be careful, I know." Mercedes gingerly cupped and kneaded the swollen, heated flesh. "I forgot what it felt like, too. Almost eight weeks free of all this crap."

"That _is_ a long time," Sam noted, surprised. "Man, no wonder we've had so much sex."

Mercedes scoffed and slapped his shoulder. "Is that all you think about?" she laughed, momentarily forgetting about her soreness. "C'mon, let's go to bed. I want cuddles."

"Me too! That's what I've been waiting for all this time!" Sam declared, following her into the bedroom. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to narrow these morning workouts down to, like, an hour or something. Any longer and I'll go insane."

"_Go_ insane? You mean, this is what you're like when you're _sane?!_" Mercedes playfully gasped. She dodged a flying pillow to her head, cackling. "I love you too, Sam."

**O-O**

"_The lovers shared a fleeting moment of joy under the stars, away from Diablo__'__s captivity. Luz__'__s gossamer fur shone under the moonlight, shining like the heavens above them. Oscuro preferred to stare at the stars in her eyes, beckoning him closer. _

"_Reclaim me, my love," she__ begged, __"Free me from this prison." _

"_Soon__," he promised, stepping closer until their muzzles were inches from each other. "Soon I will find you and we will be together." _

"_There isn__'__t a day I don__'__t fight for us." She whispered. Oscuro moved to nuzzle her, but his nose only brushed against a tuft of breeze. _

"_I will keep fighting, too." The apparition stepped away, eyes hopeful as she nodded. _

"_Don__'__t let me go.__" And with another tuft of wind, the vision of his love, crafted from the powerful desires of his heart, blew away into the mysterious darkness of the forest. Bravely, Oscuro bared teeth and trudged on into the trees, unfazed by the echo of noises around him. With hope in his heart, he pressed on." _

Sam closed the notebook on his lap. "So? What did you think, bud?"

Connor's small body was curled into his side, chest rising and falling evenly from slumber. As if in reply, his tiny puckered mouth dropped open to release a gurgling snore.

"Figures. The first time I share my story with someone other than Mercedes, and my audience falls asleep on me." He chuckled, gathering the toddler in his arms to settle his tiny, floppy head against his chest. Sam looked to his mother, crouched beside him in the living room. "Should I take this personally?"

"Not at all. Connor inherited his father's knack for sleeping anywhere and anytime," laughed Bree, sniffling and running a fist beneath her nose. "I better get him inside. If these fumes are getting to me, I know they'll get to him."

Bree rose to grab her towel from the stool across from her and wipe her hands. In standing, she admired her work from a different angle, tilting her head with a small smile. "You know, now that the detail work's finished and it's been glazed, you can really see the beauty in it. The little details, you know?"

"Yeah?" Sam was careful to cradle Connor's head as he leaned forward, following her line of vision. "Wow, you're right. It looks just like her."

Their scheduled dinner with Bree and Connor wasn't until tomorrow, but Sam wanted to surprise Mercedes with his gift after they'd eaten, and the work that had to be done needed time to dry. Bree was gracious enough to bring over her tarp and equipment to help with the task of finishing his sculpture, even going the extra mile to do some contour work on the features. The dark strokes of black across his work's face almost broke his creative heart, but he trusted her judgment more than he trusted his own. And after seeing the end result, he knew his faith in her was well founded.

"She looks so real. Mercedes's is gonna freak! I did that?" Sam reached out to touch it with his free hand, curling his fingers when Bree planted her fists on her hips and shot him a look. "Oh, right. Still wet." He smiled bashfully, head shrinking into his shoulders.

"And Conner's head looks seconds away from falling off." She smiled. Sam gasped and quickly gathered the boy's dead weight to himself. Bree cackled at his panic. "Relax, kid. Connor's head has dangled many a time before this. He's a trooper." Connor chose that moment to smile in his sleep, drooling against Sam's collar as his tiny arm twitched.

"Aww, look," Bree cooed, in her mommy voice. "Did you hear mommy talking about you, squirt? You must be having some dream." She crouched down to brush back his shiny brown bangs, meeting Sam's eyes with all of a mother's affection in her gaze. "He's in this whole he-man independence phase. Won't let me pick out his underwear or help him bathe because he realizes mommy's a girl."

Sam laughed, pressing a hand to Conner's back in care not to jostle him. "Yeah, I've been there. Hate to break it to you, but it's not a phase," he whispered, leaning in toward her.

Bree's eyes crinkled into tiny moons when she smiled, the same way Mercedes's eyes did. Sam noticed immediately. A small tremor rushed through his heart from the familiar sight. "Well, I guess he has to grow up sometime, right?" Bree whispered back, patting Sam's arm. "C'mon, hand him over. Let me lie him down on the couch."

"Nonsense. I'll take him into the bedroom. Much comfier." Sam stood and gently bounced Connor in his arms to reposition him.

"Are you sure? Will Mercedes mind?" Bree asked warily, looking up from her crouched position with an unsure smile. "I haven't even met her yet. The last thing I'd want is to make a bad impression because my kid drooled all over her pillow."

"Relax, Mercy's not like that." Sam chuckled. "He'll sleep on my side. Besides, she won't be able to resist this cutie's face."

Connor's head tilted up in his sleep, toward Sam's voice. He sighed and rubbed his face in the Captain America shirt under his cheek, breaths quickening as he stirred. For a moment, Sam and Bree froze and visibly held their breaths, watching for any signs of waking. Thankfully, the little one's brown eyes remained closed, and his breaths evened out in the passing seconds of silence.

Holding the weighty toddler warmed Sam's heart. Connor reminded him of Stevie and Stacey in their younger years, how he used to cradle them in his lanky arms as he sang them to sleep. All those years of practice helped him build muscle, and now he was strong enough to hold two Connors without a problem. Glancing down at the boy's peaceful face, Sam let his mind wander, imagining a copper-skinned, more feminine bundle in his arms, with an abundance of curls and long lashes like the woman that held his heart. Her lips would be full, a tiny Cupid's bow mouth, and she'd have eyes the color of rainforests and lush earth, a kaleidoscope of wonder. Chuckling to himself, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Connor's forehead.

Bree watched the array of emotions cross his face, curiously squinting. "You're _such_ a kid guy, aren't you? I don't know why I didn't pick that up right away."

"Not really around kids that much these days. I guess the little man just brings it out of me." Sam swept Connor's bangs away from his eyes, like he'd seen Bree do earlier. "I want ten or twenty of these, man."

"You say that now, but they're a lot more work than you realize," Bree warned, standing to pat his arm. "Raising another life is a full time job, kid."

"It's one I can't wait to have, though." Sam answered honestly, then shook his head, cheeks warming. "Listen to me, I sound like I have baby fever."

"Yep, sounds like it," Bree jested. She followed behind him to his bedroom, resting her finger in Connor's dangling palm as Sam carried him. His chubby fingers curled and gripped tightly, even as Sam shuffled around pillows and laid him on his stomach. Chuckling when he caught sight of their unbreakable connection, Sam took Bree's wrist and slowly eased her finger away, without disturbing the toddler's sleep.

Bree squeezed his fingers in thanks before her hand retreated, then tiptoed backwards towards the door. Sam laughed silently and chose to mimic her, moonwalking out of the bedroom. Her hand met his on the doorknob as they pulled the door in, stopping an inch before they could fully close it.

"Yeah, you've clearly done this before." Bree laughed, voice returning to normal volume now that they were a safe distance away from slumbering ears. "You've got daddy moves already."

"Well, you know." Sam jumped up on the balls of his feet and spun, presenting his body with a gesture of his hands. "Back home, they do call me white chocolate. I've got _all_ the moves."

Bree rolled her eyes and pushed at his chest, shoving him away. "Whatever, kid. Save those moves for the stage," she replied, then paused and added,"and your fiancée."

"Mercy's gonna flip when she's sees my art project! For my second human sculpture ever in life, I think it's a pretty good likeness of her." Sam walked back into the living room to crouch in front of the artwork, resting it on the window sill to dry in the sun. "I should open the windows to let some air in. Those fumes are making me dizzy, too."

Bree admired the female figure in the sunlight, eyes lingering over every soft, shapely feature. "Your girl's gorgeous."

Sam turned sharply at her breathless tone . His eyes danced when Bree bit the corner of her lip and ran her hands over her own athletic frame. "Don't tell me my sculpture of Mercedes is giving you a complex."

Her eyes shifted, disrupting their subtle glazed over appearance, to squint playfully in Sam's direction. "Shut up, I don't get 'complexes'. Especially from art, okay?" she scoffed. "I mean, we have magazines and television for that. I can learn to hate my body from ten different forms of media nowadays."

"True." Sam nodded. "But you've got no worries. You're like, beautiful on the inside, so it comes out, you know? Traditional pretty is boring, anyway."

"Yeah? But you're 'traditionally pretty' and I don't find you boring." Sam's eyebrows rose and fell in the short time it took Bree to make her way to the couch. When she sat down and looked his way once more, the only evidence of his shock was the rich tinting of red across his cheekbones. "What, you didn't know you were pretty? Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

"Well yeah, but...I mean, Mercedes doesn't call me pretty...only sometimes...I don't..." Oddly, his mind short circuited and couldn't form words. The thought of someone as cultured as Bree, who'd traveled the world and translated models and actors' forms into all types of medium, thinking that he was pretty was...well, super unbelievable. Somehow, hearing it from her made him feel less self-conscious about his flaws.

"You don't what?" Bree giggled, snapping her fingers to, hopefully, restart his brain. "Hear it often? Trust me, kid, you're pretty. I'd be extra protective of my booty if I ever went to prison and looked like you, that's all I'm saying."

Sam's laugh sounded louder than normal to his ears, but Bree didn't seem to mind, so he didn't bother to change it. "You're so weird, I swear."

"I'm an artist. Weird writes my paycheck." She patted the spot next to her and reached for the remote. "Sit down and chill with me until Connor wakes up. You're too far away. I swear I don't have cooties, contrary to what my son believes nowadays."

Sam plopped down beside her, glancing at the sculpture staring back at him for only a moment before he reclined. "What are we watching?" he asked, tilting his head so Bree could stretch her hand across the back of the couch and slide her fingers into his blonde tresses.

"I don't know...something trashy and adult that I couldn't watch if the kid was awake." Bree started this habit of playing in his hair whenever they were in close proximity. She explained that she used to do it to her parents when she was younger, as a way of lulling herself to sleep. The honor went to her husband, then her son, and the twirling and twisting of hair between her fingers became a 'thing' she did when she felt comfortable with someone. Sam felt honored to be a part of that small circle of people in her life.

"Reality TV, maybe?" he shrugged, watching the screen as she scrolled through the guide.

Bree shrugged back just as indecisively. "Whatever, really." After a few minutes, they settled on a channel where two women with strong New York accents were clawing at each other's faces. One of the two women, sporting leopard print acrylic nails entirely too long to be functional, reached for the other's hair. They screamed in horror when her hand got tangled in the other's weave, then gasped when a mismatched track came loose and plopped to the floor.

"So, do you guys have any more of those mangoes lying around?" Bree asked absently, glaze glued to the unfolding drama.

Sam nodded mutely, crying out in pain when the woman with the leopard claws stomped her bejeweled heel into the other woman's thigh. He stood and walked toward the kitchen, tilting his body every which way to catch every second of the fight. He opened the fridge without looking and blindly reached into the box on the second shelf, tossing Bree the last of the mangoes with a small grunt. He took a bottle of Gatorade for himself and kicked the door closed, running back to his seat.

"Forgot the paper towel," he mumbled, twisting open his drink. They both winced and hissed when security tried to break up the fight and ended up getting kicked in the balls. Bree grunted and reached for her discarded paint towel, waving it briefly before resting it in her lap.

Sam took a swig of the fruit punch flavored drink, running his tongue over his teeth from the shock of cold. "And the knife. Forgot the knife."

Bree met Sam's eyes briefly and sunk her teeth into the mango's flesh, skin and all.

Sam guffawed and shook his head. "I swear, you're like a female me."

"Ha! No wonder you're so pretty then. We've got great genes." The two stuffed their cheeks with food and drink, then swallowed hard and belched from their gut in perfect synchronicity. Their laughter was also nearly identical when the abusive reality star on screen got shoved into a water fountain. Bits of fruit flew from Bree's open mouth. Sam, mouth full of beverage, laughed until Gatorade shot out of his nose.

"Oh god, you okay?" Bree dabbed his nose with her towel, then wiped her own mouth. "We're total pigs."

Sam barely stopped coughing before he replied, "I don't get to be a pig usually. Mercedes is neat as fuck."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm here, then. I think we both needed a pig day." She remarked, grinning. Bree bumped her mango against his bottle. "Can I say that this is the most fun I've had in, like, months? After Brett passed, it's been hard for me to reach out and connect, you know? I thought he was the only one that could understand me." Bree turned her head, smirking as she chucking Sam's chin. "Thanks for proving me wrong, Sam. Promise you won't just up and leave if you think I'm too crazy to be around?"

"No, you're just the right brand of crazy. I won't let go of you, I promise." The poignancy of his words, echoed only to Mercedes, hit him as soon as he spoke them. He distracted himself from the doubled thumping in his chest, the fluttering in his belly, with another swig of Gatorade. "We can hang."

"Cool." The two continued to watch television in silence, until warm midday turned to cooler afternoon. They lost all concept of time, as they always did whenever they interacted. Sleep rode the heavier breezes rolling past the curtains, drifting in to rest between them.

**O-O**

"Shoot, forgot my keys again." Mercedes struggled to balance an armful of groceries as she patted her back pockets, hoping that she'd only placed her keys in a different place than usual. After a quick and fruitless search, she placed the groceries on the floor and took her cell phone out of her purse, slung over the opposite arm. She called Sam twice, checking to see if he was home, but he never picked up. Sighing again at her misfortune, she sent him a quick text, hoping he would be able to answer even if he was in class or at work.

Ten minutes passed with no answer.

"Great. Today of all days." Mercedes slid down her front door, cupping her forehead to quell the oncoming headache. Nothing went right after the glorious start to her morning that day. She had a test in her Music Theory class that she'd forgotten about, her tights caught a run after she'd accidentally dragged her calf across a nail jutting out from her desk, and her recordings in the studio today were corrupted due to technical issues, making them virtually unusable. To top it all, her credit card was declined in the supermarket because her father, the card holder, finally decided to close the account. She was forced to use money from her and Sam's emergency fund to buy groceries for dinner tomorrow. A dinner that, admittedly, she'd been dreading since the day Sam arranged it.

Mercedes wasn't even worried that she'd hate Bree. If Sam liked her, she was sure that she was nice on some level. Then again, they both weren't the best judges of character when it came to friends. It was truly an act of fate that their choice to be with each other worked out the way it did.

No, she feared loving Bree, to the point where she couldn't find reason to keep her away, where she'd find reason to invite her over to spend more time at their apartment. She was afraid that she'd want to keep Bree, too.

Isn't that how all of the successful cheating plot lines started? The best friend, the welcome maid that the mistress loved dearly, the coworker with a kind heart and little to no boundaries swoops in and takes your man's hand behind her back while she takes yours in front, smiling in your face the entire time?

"Shit, I have milk in here." Taking a chance, she banged her fist on the door, hoping that Sam was merely sleeping inside. When the locks clicked and turned, Mercedes hopped to her feet and gathered the groceries from the floor, marching through the opening door with her view obstructed by the tall paper bags. Grocers near her school had the strangest aversion to plastic, all hippie conscious about the environment and whatnot. California was _that _kind of place.

"Babe, thank god you're home. I had a bunch of perishable things in here." She spoke hurriedly, smiling as she placed her groceries on the counter. "You won't believe the day I've had tod—"

She paused, stunned at the sight of her fiancé snoring on the couch. A strange woman, slender and smiling in her sleep, rested on his shoulder. She quickly glanced at the open doorway, and noticed for the first time that her savior's head barely reached the doorknob he'd unlocked. A little boy with brown hair and wide, fearful eyes stood staring at her, wearing one of Sam's pajama shirts.

"Are you a stranger?" he asked, scratching his bottom. "I not 'posed to talk to strangers."

Mercedes snapped her jaw closed and gathered her bearings, choosing to tackle the first issue presented to her. "I'm not a stranger. I'm Mercedes. This is my apartment," she replied, as calmly and evenly as she could to avoid upsetting him. He was the only one that could provide her with any answers. "What's your name?"

"I'm Connor. My mommy's asleep and I just woke up," he answered, then shamefully lifted the hem of his long shirt. "I had a accident. Please don't tell!"

Mercedes followed the trail of small droplets running down his legs, then followed the small imprints of his wet feet in the carpet, leading around the corner towards her bedroom door.

"I—In my bed?!" Mercedes asked in horror, struggling to rein in her anger. It wasn't Connor she was upset with, but a four year old boy couldn't tell the difference between types of anger, especially one who didn't know her well. She had to keep him calm to get all the information she could from him, but judging from his quivering lip and shaking legs, he was one second away from crying.

"Alright, it's alright." Mercedes set her bags down and walked over to him, crouching to his level to cup his cheeks as he sniffled. She brushed away the stray tears as they fell, whispering, "I promise I won't tell. Why don't you go back into my room and I'll help you get cleaned up, okay?"

Connor nodded, pouting his small, plump bottom lip. "O-okay," he stuttered, sniffling again. "I sorry I messed up."

"Oh no, it's okay. I understand. I'm not mad at you, Connor." She assured him. "Does mommy usually take you to the bathroom before you fall asleep?" The boy nodded slowly, then wiped his dripping nose on the drooping sleeve of his shirt. "What happened this time?"

"Mr. Sam read me a story so I wouldn't touch the art, but I wasn't 'posed to fall asleep, but I couldn't help it 'cause my eyes started closing!" he whispered back, voice growing louder as he grew upset again. "I'm gonna get in trouble! I told mommy I wanted my big boy bwiefs today and not the pull-ups, but I messed it up!"

"Shh, don't cry, sweetheart. It's okay. You're alright, Connor." Her first instinct was to gather him up into her arms, but the rank smell of urine and what she hoped was only gas permeated the small space between them. Instead, she took his hand, which was thankfully dry, and quickly led him to the bedroom, divesting him of the wet clothes. "I told you I'll take care of it, right? I'll talk to your mommy so you won't get in trouble."

"O-okay," he sputtered, peeling off his underwear. He flicked the garment off his foot, like the very feel of it offended him, and kicked it under the bed as Mercedes went to go retrieve a towel and washcloth. When she returned, little Connor stood naked and unashamed, stretching his arms towards Mercedes. "Bath time now?"

She smiled in spite of herself, charmed by his immediate trust and dependency on her. "That's right, buddy. Bath time, and then we'll get you some fresh clothes and wake your mom and Mr. Sam, okay?"

Connor nodded so hard that his head seemed ready to fling off. "Thank you, Ms. Mercedes."

Her smile widened at his use of title. "Anytime, cutie." She bopped his nose, making a popping sound with her mouth, to prompt Connor to smile with her. "Now, do you like bubbles?"

"Yeah!" the boy exclaimed excitedly, revealing his short rows of chiclet teeth. One of his front teeth only came in halfway, still emerging from his gums. "Boy bubbles or girl bubbles? I don't like girl bubbles."

"Boy bubbles of course!" Mercedes carried a bundled up Connor bridal style to the bathroom and seated him on the closed toilet seat, then plugged the bath drain and started running warm water to fill up the tub. After checking the temperature of the water on her wrist for several moments, she nodded in approval and reached for a blue bottle on the top shelf of their shower caddy, where all of Sam's bath products were. She placed the bottle, decorated with a bright American flag themed shield, in the little boy's tiny fingers, wearing a wickedly self-satisfied grin. "And guess what? These are Mr. Sam's favorite Captain America bubbles! There's only a little bit left in there, and Ms. Mercedes almost ran her tired behind back out to buy him another bottle, but since he's being lazy poopy-head, we won't worry about him, will we?"

Connor squealed in delighted laughter. "You said poopy-head! Mr. Sam's a poopy-head!"

"That's right!" Mercedes sing-songed, snatching Connor up to seat him on her propped leg, poised on the side of the bathtub. "Now let's pour the bubbles in and get you cleaned up! Mr. Sam doesn't deserve his favorite big boy bubbles right now."

Connor flipped the bottle over and shook hard, happily kicking his legs as the large tub filled with bright blue, cotton candy scented bubbles. "Because he's being a poopy-head, right Ms. Mercedes?" The boy giggled again at the funny word, then bent his head back to grin up at her.

She pressed her small nose to his smaller one, scrunching her face as she made the same popping sound from earlier, before she replied, "Precisely, Connor. Consider this your first lesson in being a gentleman. Poopy-heads get no rewards…"

**O-O**

Sam's nose woke him, twitching from the alluring smell of seasoned fish and Spanish rice wafting from the kitchen. The corners of his lips curled, and one eyelid lazily lifted before the other, giving his eyes time to adjust to the change in light. The heavy weight bearing down on his head registered mere milliseconds before a pair of chocolate irises came into view.

"Hellooo poopy-head!"

"Ahh!" Sam grabbed Connor's waist and flipped him over, holding his dangling form out as far away from his body as possible. The toddler, right side up and facing away from Sam, giggled and kicked his legs about.

"Put me down, Sam!" he squealed. Sam, still a bit stunned, practically tossed him into his slumbering mother's lap. Bree complained about the disturbance in her sleep, but did not wake.

"Five minutes more, Con. Just five more," she pleaded, patting his back before drifting off again.

"Mommy, Ms. Mercedes is here! Wake up! Wake up!" Unsuccessful in waking his mother, Connor crawled back into Sam's lap and shook his shoulders. "Get up, dude! She's weally, weally mad at you!" he sang with the widest, most innocent eyes. "I think Ms. Mercedes s'gonna put you in time out."

"Mercedes?" Sam fully awoke then, shooting upright in his seat. His fiancée's name shocked him enough to remind him of his gross errors: who was sitting next to him, who was sitting on his lap, and how much trouble he was probably in for not informing her beforehand. "You said she was angry? Like, really, really angry?"

"She's in the kitchen! She called you a poopy-head." Connor covered his mouth and shook from giggling. "I had a accident, but we're not 'posed to tell mommy because it's our secret. She washed me up so I didn't smell like pee no more, and I let her do it even though she's a girl 'cause I didn't want no punishments."

Sam stole a glance toward the kitchen, catching a glimpse of Mercedes' bustling form in the kitchen. "Hey Connor, do you think you can stay here for a little bit and keep momma company while she sleeps? I'm going to go apologize to Mercedes."

"It's _Ms._ Mercedes. You're 'posed to say miss if a lady doesn't have a wedding wing on her finger." Connor corrected, sternly waggling his little pointer finger in Sam's face.

"But she does have a ring on her finger. _My_ ring," argued Sam. Why he chose to argue with a four year old was beyond him. When challenged, Sam always felt compelled to defend his presence in Mercedes's life.

"Not for long!" sang Connor, hopping off his lap to saunter into the kitchen. He looked back and shook his head at Sam. "You're a weal, weal piece a work, you know that?"

"Excuse me?" Connor waved away Sam's objections and continued on, refusing to look back. "I've got to be dreaming. This is a horrible, horrible dream."

Nothing was going the way he'd planned. According to her schedule, Mercedes wasn't supposed to be home for a couple of hours. Naturally, the fact that he decided to bring Bree over when Mercedes knew that he knew her schedule only made him look guiltier. Sam groaned and dropped his face into his hands, allowing the sleep and anxiety-induced tension to ease from his bones before he stood.

Taking a deep breath and saying a silent prayer, Sam marched on to the kitchen. "Mercy? Babe?"

"In here." She stood over two large steaming pots on the stove, lifting one lid to sprinkle a handful of seasonings before grabbing a handful of chopped vegetables from the chopping board to drop them in the other. "Connor said he was hungry, so I just decided to get started on dinner today instead of waiting for tomorrow. In about ten minutes, you can wake Bree and get washed up. I'm almost done."

"Mercedes, I can explain all of this." Mercedes held her hand out before he could get too close, never once looking away from her task.

"I don't need explanations from you right now, Sam. What I need for you to do is to take out the clean sheets from the dryer and remake the bed. Thankfully, Connor's little accident didn't soak through to the mattress." She answered in a clipped tone, all business. "Connor honey, can you go wake your mom up? I need to know if spaghetti and meatballs are an okay alternative for you. I don't think you'll eat what we're eating."

"Sure! My mommy gives me spa'sghetti and meatballs all the time!" Connor answered cheerily, running over to hug Mercedes's legs.

"But I still need you to wake her. Can you do that for me?"

"Absowutely, Ma'am!" the boy replied, stepping back to stand tall and sending a mock salute in her direction. Puffing his chest out, he turned on the balls of his feet and saluted Sam. "Absowutely, Poopy-head!"

"Go on, you." Mercedes chuckled, ruffling his hair and gently pushing him towards the living room. As soon as the little boy left, her eyes returned to the stove.

Sam took another deep breath and decided to try at conversation again. "Mercedes, look, I understand why you might be angry..."

"Might? _Might_, Sam? There is no _might be_ angry. I'm pissed," Mercedes spat, slamming the glass lid back over a boiling pot before finally turning to face him. Sam balked at the inferno in her gaze. "And it's not even because our guests are here a day early. It's not because I come home, dog tired, with an armful of groceries to find _a__nother__ woman_ sleeping on _my_ couch with _my_ man. It's not even because Connor, the adorable _stranger _that he is, had to unlock to door for me after I knocked, called, and texted you for twenty minutes and tell me that he urinated all over my sheets! You wanna know why I'm really mad at you, Sam? Go on, ask me."

"Uh...why are you mad at me?" Sam asked, face drained of all color as he gripped the counter behind him, fearing for his life.

"I'm glad you asked!" Mercedes exclaimed with a cold smile, smacking the countertop behind him. The invasion of space, though she was a full head shorter than him, made him feel as tall as Connor. "I'm mad at you because after you promise me and promise me and _promise _me that things are going to be different, I come home and find another party where I find you drunk and dangling off a pole, another secret job I find out about from everyone else in the freaking world but you! It's half-truths and broken promises and..." Her eyes drifted to the discarded box in their recycle container. "And mangoes! ."

"Ma-mangoes?" he squeaked.

"Yes! Mangoes!" Mercedes marched over and snatched up the empty box, shaking it in front of him before tossing it back to the ground. "They were mine, something I was only willing to share with you, and you go and give it away without asking me! Then, when I ask you about it, you pass it off like it's no big thing! Like your silence wasn't as bad as a lying to my face! It's the _principle_, Sam! How can I trust you with something as big as the rest of my life if I can't trust you with something as small as my _fruit_? You bring a strange woman into our home and give her the one thing we agreed would only be shared between us!"

Sam blinked owlishly. "We're not just talking about mangoes here, are we?"

Mercedes huffed and spun on her heels, taking out her frustrations in the dicing of an unnecessary carrot. "No, we're not just talking about mangoes, Sam. Very observant."

"Then what are we talking about exactly? Because I want to make it right, but the reason why I thought you were mad at me isn't the reason at all." Taking a chance, he slowly crept his fingers around her waist until he embraced her. Mercedes stopped chopping, but didn't tense or pull away. She didn't turn to look at him either. "Mercedes, please explain? I don't get it. And use small words, because you know I'm a little slow."

Mercedes snorted a quick laugh, then closed her eyes and relaxed slightly in his embrace, allowing herself the comfort of being held. Even when she was angry at him, Sam was still her security. He was home. "You're not slow, Sam."

"Still." He pressed his lips to her cheek, only resting them there, never kissing her. "Break it down for me."

"I shouldn't have to, Sam." Mercedes grabbed his wrists and pried his arms apart, stepping out of them. Sam frowned when she reached for the large wooden spoon behind him and resumed cooking. "You're way smarter than you give yourself credit for. That's why I'm so mad. You pretend like you don't know what's going on, when in reality you simply choose to ignore the truth in front of you. And if our relationship is just going to be built on all the mess we can see in broad daylight, well..." Mercedes turned off the burners on the stove and leaned forward, resting her hands on either side of the stove to steady her slightly quivering frame. "I don't know if I want it at all."

"What the hell are you saying, Mercedes?" Sam demanded, stepping forward to lean in and meet her eyes. When she looked away, he cupped her face and turned her head back toward him, studying every minute expression for truth. Everything, from her guarded eyes to the thin, grim line of her lips, read mistrust. "Mercedes, I swear I'm sorry. I can explain all this, I know I can. I didn't lie because I wanted to hurt you."

"You never do, Sam. You never want to hurt me, but you do because you keep lying to me." she said quietly, eyes watering as she slid her hands off her cheeks. "I've had too many liars in my life that broke my heart, Sam. Please don't be another one. I couldn't take it."

"I...Mercy, I'm..." A terse silence loomed between them as Sam stood puzzled, unsure of how to proceed. A small, sad voice spoke his fears aloud.

"Please don't be mad, Ms. Mercedes!"

Bree stood at the entryway of the kitchen, blushing as she held a hand over her little boy's mouth.

"I'm sorry, he didn't mean to interrupt. I was trying to find a way to say we were leaving." Bree explained. She hoisted her pouting boy higher on her hip, poking his bottom lip back into his mouth. "Connor, we don't interfere in a grown up conversation. Understood?"

"Yes, mommy," he replied sadly, glancing between Mercedes and Sam's stiffened bodies out of the corner of his eye. His youth heightened his sense of intuition. Even if he didn't understand all they were saying, he knew that the couple was having an argument about him and his mom being there. "I'm sorry for peeing in your bed and keeping it a secret from mommy. Don't be mad at Mr. Sam. Don't make him go away. Pwease?"

Mercedes's nostrils flared, glancing between mother and son as she carefully weighed her choice of reply. "I'm not going to make him go away, Connor," she said calmly, her insides quaking violently. "Mr. Sam and I were just having a discussion, that's all."

"Yeah Connor, don't worry. Sometimes couples fight about stuff. It doesn't mean that they're going to break up, okay?" Sam reassured, smiling for the boy. If Connor hadn't distracted them, he would've been seconds away from crying.

"Look, I'm sorry that we had to meet like this. I came by to help Sam with his art project, we started watching TV while we were waiting for it to dry, and next thing I know, we're asleep on the couch. Nothing else happened except that I foolishly lost track of time. I'm sorry if we caused any trouble." Bree apologized, running her free hand through her hair. "Thank you for bathing Connor, by the way. I left the shirt folded up on the couch. And I'll pay for the sheets that Connor ruined, okay? Is next week alright? That's my next paycheck."

"No, honestly it's fine," Mercedes assured, more genuinely than earlier. "I'm Mercedes, and you don't owe me any money. Accidents happen."

Bree nodded and reached out to shake her hand. "Bree, as you probably know already." She awkwardly laughed. "I'm sorry again for the inconvenience. Thank you for being so understanding. We'll just..." She jabbed her thumb toward the front door. "...be heading out now."

"But what about my spa'sghetti?" Connor whined, tugging his mother's shirt collar as she moved to leave. "Ms. Mercedes is making me spa'sghetti and meatballs, mommy! She pwomised! I wanna stay!"

"Connor, you will do as I say. We're leaving. No back talking." Bree chastised.

"But Mooommyyyyy..." The toddler's tiny chin quivered. Fat tears beaded on his lower lashes, splashing onto his cheeks with every rapid blink as Bree walked towards the front door.

"Bree, wait. Please," Mercedes called out, taking hurried steps toward them. Mother and son halted. "I've already started dinner and everything..." She shrugged, "We had a weird introduction, but I would still like to get to know you and Connor. That is, if you'd still like to stay," offered Mercedes with a humble smile. Though she hadn't verbally replied, Mercedes' smile and the warmth behind it had already succeeded in winning Bree over. "Plus, I promised this little guy some meatballs and I never break my promises." She winked at the little boy, and his cheeks dimpled as his frown transformed into the sunniest grin.

"See, mommy? She wants us to stay!" he exclaimed, bouncing in his mother's arms. "Can we stay, mommy? Can we stay with Ms. Mercedes and Mr. Sam? Puh-_leeease_?"

"Are you sure, Mercedes?" Bree asked warily, pressing a hand to Connor's back to keep him close to her chest. "I don't want to impose any more than I already have. You seem really sweet and I don't want to..." she glanced briefly toward Sam as he stood a distance away. "...cause conflict."

"You're not. Please stay. I'd like to get to know you." Mercedes was determined to give Bree a fair chance, personal feelings aside. One thing she hated more than lying men was making false assumptions about people before getting to know them. Being so trusting had hurt her in the past, but the small morsel of faith she held onto insisted that she continue to try. If she lost that, she'd lose an essential part of her, the piece that kept her whole. "You can use the bathroom in our bedroom to wash up. Connor, you can show mommy where it is, can't you?"

"Sure!" He wiggled his way to the floor, yanking his mother's hand to pull her toward the bedroom. "C'mon, mommy. Ms. Mercedes gave me a bath in here today. I gots to use Mr. Sam's big boy bubbles, 'cause he was being a poopy-head."

Sam gasped, walking up to Mercedes with his hands on his hips. "You gave him my special Captain 'merica bubbles?"

"Yeah, and your fay-ber-ite shirt, too." Connor teased, sticking out his tongue before his mother pulled him into the room.

Sam gasped and looked toward the couch, spotting his favorite shirt lying folded on the seat. "That's my limited edition collector's shirt! It's made from 100% Asgardian Cotton and signed by all the heroes!"

Mercedes squinted threateningly. "That would be the last thing I complain about right now, Sam. The very _last_ thing."

He held his hands up in surrender, backing away. "I mean...dinner smells delicious?" he meekly offered, hoping to appease her. "If Connor's having the spaghetti, then what are we having?"

"Deep fried trout, smothered in gravy and deceit." she replied, brushing past him on her way to the kitchen to prepare for dinner. "I thought it fit the occasion."

**O-O**

Amicable conversation over dinner eased the remaining tension in the air. Sam uncorked a bottle of wine, Connor charmed the room with a string of knock-knock jokes he'd learned from a children's magazine, and Mercedes played a soothing medley of Jazz songs she'd put together on the stereo, to calm the atmosphere and set the desired mood. Bree, feeling more at home, began to loosen up and let her true, spirited nature shine through, leading the discussion as Sam collected their empty plates and prepared dessert.

"So there I was, seventeen and naïve, learning trompe l'oeil technique from this amazing artist named Jacques de' Barbari, and one of the older gentleman models who's been eyeing me the entire day just steps right in front of me and whips off his robe! Literally, it was just standing up in all its near century old glory, right in my face!" The women cackled together, each barely holding onto the stems of their wine glasses. Sam returned to the table, balancing four small bowls of ice cream on his forearms. He set one down in front of each of his guests, including Connor, who was doodling quietly on a napkin next to his mother. Both men glanced at their women with raised eyebrows, mildly amused by the volume of their laughter.

"Can you imagine? It was the first one I'd seen in my entire life! I swear, if it weren't for meeting Brett, I might have been traumatized for life," Bree remarked, taking another sip of wine before wiping the happy tears from her eyes.

"That's insane. I don't know how you managed to get over that," Mercedes replied with a small laugh, sipping from her own glass. She set it down to take her spoon, digging into her caramel and chocolate drizzled treat.

"Brett? That's my daddy's name!" Connor set his colored pencils down and fished in his shirt, pulling out the engraved dog tags bearing his deceased father's name. "He was a soldier, like G.I. Joe."

Bree's lips curled half-heartedly. "Yeah, something like that, buddy," she remarked, ruffling his hair. Mercedes and Sam both noted the way her tone softened, a drastic contrast to her effervescent self a second ago. Bree watched her son press the dog tags to his lips, a routine he'd created himself, before resuming his coloring. The light in her eyes gradually dimmed, and for a moment, the pain of her thoughts registered in the creasing between her brows.

"So," interrupted Mercedes, clearing her throat, "What are you working on over there, Connor? You've been awfully quiet. And you haven't even touched your ice cream!"

"Yeah, bud. Whatcha drawin'?" asked Sam, leaning slightly across the table to peek over Connor's shielding arm. "Dinosaurs? Monster trucks?"

"I'm 'sperimenting with dots to make drawings of people. Here." Connor stood on his seat to hand the sheet of paper over to Sam, pointing out his work in center. "I drawed you, Sam."

A near perfect likeness stared back at him, coming together in a precise arrangement of dots and light shading. Mercedes's jaw dropped in awe.

"Connor, this is amazing! You just did this?" she exclaimed, easing the artwork from Sam's pinched grip. Though Sam had seen the boy's work before, he was equally as stunned by his accuracy and attention to detail.

"Told you he was amazing," complimented Sam, wearing a proud smile as he chucked Connor's chin. "Boy's a prodigy."

"What's a pro-gi-dy?" he asked with a tilt of his head, wrinkling his nose. "Sounds funny."

"It means you're naturally gifted, kid. You know, like Picasso." explained Bree.

Connor shook his head at the comparison. "No, I don't think so. After the blue pewiod, all his work looks pee-des-twian."

The boy shrugged and dug into his ice cream. Overhead, the adults shared amused looks of disbelief.

"Pedestrian, huh? Tell us how you really feel." snorted Bree. "I swear, this kid's been in an art studio since he was conceived. He probably knows more than me."

"Probably," Connor cheekily replied, lapping at his milk mustache.

"Who asked you, huh?" Connor giggled when his mother poked at his sides, wriggling out of his chair.

"Mommy, stop! That tickles!"

Mercedes's heart fluttered at the familial scene. "He's so adorable, Bree. You're so lucky."

"I am?" Connor asked with a cheeky grin, wiggling his eyebrows at his mother. "I'm _adowable_, mommy. You're _so _lucky."

"And you _so _need to get ready for bed, young man. Your eyes are already turning red." Bree replied, turning his head from side to side to assess his tiredness. "Yep, you're definitely sleepy, little one. Come sit on mommy's lap for a little while."

"Aww, mommy! That's for babies!" complained Connor, even though obediently climbed across chairs to sit in her lap. "I not even sleepy yet." He yawned as soon as Bree rested his head on her shoulder, and less than a beat of silence went by before his eyes started to flutter.

"Uh huh. Sure you're not, dude." Bree smirked knowingly and kissed his forehead, then gently hummed a soft lullaby in his ear, rhythmically patting his back until his head lolled over to her shoulder.

"By the way, Sam, where's your art?"

Sam balked in his seat, shocked that Mercedes had chosen to acknowledge his presence. "_My_ art?"

"You know, the art you and Bree were working on today? When I wasn't home?" She reminded him, with a bite in her tone that belied the seemingly innocent questions. "Where is it?"

"It was drying on the window sill. Hold on..." Bree and Mercedes's eyes followed Sam as he nearly stumbled over his feet to run to the window. The older woman noticed the nervous way Mercedes nibbled the corners her full lips, observing her fiancé pensively, as if she were trying to figure him out all over again.

"He really loves you, you know." Mercedes squinted in Bree's direction, clearly asking for the point of her comment with her expression. "I know what you were asking him without...well, without actually _asking_. He's not like that. We're just friends."

Mercedes glanced down at her empty dessert bowl, then unnecessarily readjusted and smoothed out the napkin draped across her lap. "I know that."

"Do you? Because Sam thinks he's the luckiest guy in the world to be with you. And I won't lie, I get it. You're amazing," gushed Bree. "You just have to trust who Sam is. I know him."

"Really?" Mercedes smiled coolly, careful to keep her temper under control. "And who exactly is Sam, Bree? You guys seem awfully close, so maybe you know things I don't know."

"He's loyal, Mercedes. Loyal to near ridiculous proportions. We both see that." Bree emphasized with a knowing smile. "Sam would sooner hurt himself than intentionally hurt you."

The younger woman's stoicism seemed to crumble a bit at her words, exposing her fears and insecurities in the slight falling of her shoulders, the shaky exhale of breath. "Look, take it from someone who's loved hard and lost much in her life, Sam wouldn't even look in another woman's direction. You're all he sees, Mercedes. Embrace that."

"How?" whispered Mercedes. "How do you trust someone who's always lying to you? How do you give someone a second chance when everyone you've trusted before has hurt you?"

"You make them prove they can be trusted." Mercedes and Bree turned to a smiling Sam, holding his sculpture in his outstretched palms. "It still needs more time to dry in some places, but I wanted you to see that I...well, I hid things for a reason. I wanted to surprise you with this."

Mercedes couldn't tear her eyes away from the beauty of her miniature form, sculpted by his hands. "You made this for me?" Sam placed it on the table in front of her, turning its base until it caught the right light. "This was the project? The one you've been working on for so long?"

"Yeah. It was the one of the bigger projects, at least." Sam's cheeks flushed. "I don't know if it does you justice, but I tried my best."

He'd chosen to pose her form in mid-motion, left leg pointed out to her side as her right faced forward, slightly bent at the knee. The dress he'd fashioned around her curvy frame seemed to have its own life, ruffling and swishing about her thighs as if he'd captured her in the middle of a large spin. Her arms were flexed above her head, fists rounded and held until the musculature in her biceps bulged beneath her dress sleeve. What captured Mercedes most was the accuracy of her facial features, from the rounded fullness of her mouth to the small wrinkle in the bridge of her nose when she smiled. Her own eyes bore into her, reflecting a joy, a freedom she hadn't felt in a long time. Seeing herself how Sam saw her, how he'd fashioned her in clay, felt like staring at a moment from her past, when her life was simpler. He'd managed to capture the spirit of who she was then, during their first summer together as lovers.

"It's beautiful, Sam." She looked up at him and smiled, mirroring the joy of her sculpted self.

"It's you. It's how I see you," he softly replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "It's how I'll always see you. You'll always be summers at the lake in my eyes."

Moved, Mercedes rose to her feet and walked towards him. He sighed when she touched his face, brushing her fingertips against his reddened cheek and the bridge of his nose. They both stared at the artwork, remembering all the moments of that summer that slowly brought them together, and unconsciously stepped into each other's opening arms. Sam squeezed her waist just as her arms loosely cloaked his shoulders.

"What's in my hand?" Mercedes squinted at a tiny rounded shape protruding from her right fist, locked in her grip.

"That's my heart," Sam replied, shrugging. "You've always had it." He tucked a finger under her chin and turned her face toward him, pressing his forehead to hers. "You always will."

Mercedes closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his breath, in the way his words warmed the cold and neglected places in her heart. "Sam..." she whispered in anguish. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I should have trusted you."

"I'm sorry I didn't give you reason to." He took her right hand in his left, lacing their fingers and resting it beside their pressed thighs. "No more surprises, alright? I promise. Not even good ones."

Mercedes chuckled and closed the small gap between them, kissing him the way she'd been dying to all day. "No more surprises. Not even the good ones."

"Okay, then it's settled," Sam said with a nod, tapping her nose. "Daily reminder that I love you, Mercedes."

She gave a breathless laugh, closing her eyes as she pressed their lips together once more. They never puckered, never probed for more, only rested against his. "I know. I feel it." Her eyelashes fluttered against his as she opened her eyes. The trust he found in her stare once more made Sam hold her even tighter to himself, as if he could physically grip the emotion and keep it with him. "I love you, too."

"Ew, mushy stuff!" complained Connor, shattering the moment with his shrill voice as he shielded his own eyes. "It's not even that good a sculpture, mommy! Her eyes are criss-crossy!"

"Connor..." tutted Bree, covering his mouth as well. "Hush. You talk way too much, dude."

The precocious boy, though effectively muzzled, continued to rant about Sam's sub-par skills. The artist in question ignored his tiny critic, choosing instead to twirl and dip his muse before stealing another earth-shattering kiss, one that felt like crickets chirping under a starlit sky by a serene lake in Ohio.

**O-O**

**So much happened, right? Review and talk to me!**


	41. Chapter 39 Lavender and Yellow Roses

**I wrote this with the intention to include it in my next 'In Sickness and Health' chapter, but when I finished it, it didn't feel like it fit well enough with the rest of the story I intended to share. It does, however, contain important information that preludes the next chapter. Because I wanted to give my readers an update before the New Year, and because this segment felt complete enough to stand alone, I've decided to give it to you guys. I hope you enjoy it, as it's hella fluffy and wonderful. **

**I sincerely apologize to all of my readers who've been patiently waiting for this upcoming chapter. The Christmas dinner at the Joneses is still in process, but I intend to finish it relatively soon. **

**All errors in this update are mine alone. Beta Jill is not responsible for any of my mistakes, grammatical errors, or overall tomfoolery and recklessness. (Well, maybe **_**some **_**of the recklessness is her fault.) I will continue editing sometime tomorrow, when I'm a bit more rested. Depending on how everything flows, I might still consolidate this piece with my next chapter.**

**Enjoy, my loves!**

**O-O**

**Flashback: Three Summers ago, Early June**

"The spinner says right foot blue."

"My right hand is already on blue, Sam!"

"Right _foot,_ not hand! Jeez, Mercy."

"Yeah, but I can't get both my hand _and _my foot there. I already look like I'm break-dancing in slow motion. I'm not trying to actually _break_ my neck."

Sam laughed at the twisted sight of his girlfriend below him; arms turned out and crisscrossed on blue and yellow dots with her left foot resting uncomfortably on green. He hovered above her on corresponding dots, practically straddling her arched body. His move to blue wrapped his right leg around her left, tilting him at an awkward angle as he struggled to keep his balance. Mercedes slowly brought her right leg over, crossing her legs between his parted thighs to rest on a free blue dot. When she pushed up on her wobbly arms in an effort to maintain balance, her chest pressed flush against his. She could feel his heart thrumming against her breast as she panted for air, and their positions, coupled with her heaving chest, felt reminiscent of things entirely forbidden and unfamiliar to her. He eyed her breasts intently as they moved, and suddenly, the seemingly innocent game of twister felt anything but innocent. Her gaze flickered from his own heaving chest to his darkening eyes, then the wicked smirk painted on his full lips, and the room around them seemed to slowly close in.

"Well, this is new." Sam licked his lips, leaning in to brush his nose against hers. He hummed delightedly in his throat when she responded with a noticeable tremor. "Doesn't seem like you're breaking much, does it?" he remarked lowly, chuckling when her eyes blew comically wide. She inhaled sharply when he shifted down to rest his abdomen closer to hers, their mouths barely a centimeter away from touching as their bodies did. "Who knew Mercedes Jones was so flexible?" he whispered, each word sliding like a caress across her cheek, laced with lustful suggestion.

Mercedes's cheeks warmed. "I'm not that flexible. N-not really."

"Certainly could've fooled me, beautiful." flirted Sam, voice honeyed with seduction. "Maybe we can try this game out in your bedroom sometime, without all the clothes in the way. Test out what your body can really do, you know?"

Her brain seized. "Well, I...I..." She sputtered, struggling to find words when his groin lightly brushed against the top of her thigh. Mercedes was at an utter loss on how to respond to such unfamiliar advances. She'd only been Sam's girlfriend for a week. Before that, she was a social pariah, an asexual nobody that only got the attention of cute boys when they wanted to hit on her friends. But Sam—adorkably wonderful, extremely handsome, sexually _very _active Sam— had her heart just as contorted as her body. He'd managed to touch all the hidden sensual places she'd been blessed with as a woman, using tender voiced double entendre alone. And God, they hadn't even officially kissed yet! How could she handle making out with him when she couldn't even navigate simple flirting? How did virgins become sex goddesses?

"Oh god, sorry. Too soon?" he cringed, reading the extra tension in her body for the hesitation it was. Maybe she wasn't the type to jump in right away. He could deal with that. Some girls needed time to feel their way through the newness of a relationship. He could respect that. "Look, don't sweat it. It's alright if you want to wait a couple of weeks to have sex, that's..."

Mercedes's arms weakened and gave at the mention of sex, sending her crashing to the floor. Sam, with his leg hooked around hers, was pulled down with her. The force of gravity made their chests collide with a hard clack of bone, and the two groaned in pain.

"...Fine with me." Sam wheezed out, finishing his argument. "Waiting is fine."

Mercedes slapped both hands over her eyes in embarrassment. "Sorry, I... My hands started hurting."

With great effort, Sam eased his sore body off of hers, supporting himself on his arms. Leaning on one elbow, his other hand gently pried her fingers apart, exposing her mortified gaze. "Are you sure that's all it is?" He inquired, genuinely concerned. Green eyes bore into hers, searching for honesty. "I mean, I didn't expect us to, you know, do _it_ right away or anything. But every time I try to get close to you, you shrink away from me. Did I do something wrong? Is it me?" Sam probed further, gnawing his bottom lip when some heavy emotion—he presumed guilt— flitted across her face. Mercedes looked away. "Is it weird for you, since we were friends first and everything?"

"No Sam, that's not it. It's not you." she insisted, sighing. "It's mostly me, okay? I'm just having trouble handling..." she gestured back and forth between the intimate proximity of their bodies. "Being this _close, _you know? I want this, but I...I don't know how to..." Mercedes circled her hands, trying and failing to find a way to explain without making things even more awkward between them. Unsuccessful, she huffed in frustration and covered her eyes again. "Can we just go extra slow? Please?"

Sam puffed his cheeks and blew hard, overwhelmed with defeat as he pushed up off of her to sit on his knees. "We can go as slow as you want, Mercy. No problem." He assuredly began, "But, I don't feel like speed is the issue here. I feel like you're hiding something, something you're afraid to tell me."

To the credit of her strong will, or perhaps the sheer chaos of her mind that made explaining emotions difficult, Mercedes rose to rest on her elbows and remained silent, eyes falling to her lap when the weight of their stare-off became too much for her. "Look, don't try to spare my feelings or anything, okay? If you wanna just stay friends because you're not attracted to me or something, I'll deal with it. Just tell me the truth."

"I _am _attracted to you, Sam." Mercedes earnestly insisted. "And I do want to be with you. I wouldn't lie about wanting to give us a shot just to spare your feelings."

"So why won't you let me kiss you?" he huffed, frustrated by all the non-answers. "If I want you and you want me, then what's stopping us from making this official?"

Her mouth fell open, gob smacked, before slamming closed again. "Official?" she squeaked, "I thought we were already official."

"You know what I mean, Mercy. _Romantically _official! I wanna make out with you and touch you and do all the things I couldn't do with you when I was just your friend." He wearily explained, wounded by yet another deflection. "Why can't I have that?"

It was hard for Sam not to take her denials as rejection when she refused to open up to him. He'd done everything he could to convince her that he was interested in more than friendship. Since prom, he'd been utterly enamored with her, more than he'd ever been with any of his past crushes. He'd handpicked her bouquets of wildflowers, slipped handwritten love notes in her locker, drawn her silly doodles to make her smile and told her every day that she was gorgeous. But Mercedes was of a different caliber, classy and fun and smart and everything out of his league. Maybe his cheap attempts at wooing her weren't enough.

Was she afraid to hurt his feelings and break it off? Did she finally realize that he was beneath her?

But fuck, all he wanted to do _was_ be underneath her, in the literal sense. Everything about Mercedes could make a man burst a couple of blood vessels. Her ass alone was the talk of the locker room. Coupled with her kind heart and wickedly sassy mouth, she was utter perfection to him. If she would just give him a chance and allow him to get closer, he could prove himself to be a satisfying lover, someone worth keeping around. He might not be the wealthiest or smartest guy at McKinley, but he was pretty confident in his cunnilingus skills. Being able to provide multiple orgasms made him, at the least, a worthy contender.

"Just let me in, Mercedes." He pleaded, gently lifting her ankle to uncross her legs. He cautiously crawled between them, gauging her reaction the entire way, until he settled between her knees. She was near catatonic as she watched him move, only blinking when his curled fingers brushed across her cheek. "Let me show you how good I can make you feel." His thumb softly brushed her lips, sweeping side to side until they relaxed apart. He read her drooping lids and responding sigh as positive reactions, and when her eyes finally closed, Sam found the boldness to guide her face closer to his.

"Don't over-think it, baby." He whispered, delighting in her shiver when he pressed a barely there kiss to her neck. Mercedes felt her head loll to the side without her consent, silently inviting him to continue his sensuous oral assault. His tongue mapped each new inch of soft skin in swirls and gentle flicks, eager to taste the forbidden. Before she could come to her senses and rectify things, Sam managed to discover a sensitive place just underneath her earlobe, resting beside the curve of her jaw. When a kiss to that hidden place caused a barely audible whining in her throat, he kissed her more firmly there, pleased when his tested theory produced a louder result the second time.

"Sam..." she breathed, entangling her fingers in the shorter hairs near his nape to tug away her frustrations. Sam's kisses grew firmer and bolder on each new patch of naked skin. She opened her eyes when he kissed the dip of her chin, then licked her lips when his gaze zeroed in on her mouth.

"All change isn't bad, Mercy." Sam tilted his head slightly, nuzzling her nose with his. "Some change can make you see things," their gazes met briefly before he closed in, "through new eyes."

"Sam?" She shakily whispered, insides humming and pulsing with new sensations. How was she supposed to think or breathe when he was so close? His skin smelled of spiced cologne and the salty sweat from their previous activities, sweetened by the rich, fruity notes of the black cherry chap stick he wore each time he exhaled. Mercedes's eyes fell closed once more as she took a purposeful inhale through her nose, swooning when every smell that made her think of Sam overwhelmed her senses. His scent alone tugged away at the last fiber of reserve she had left. She could practically see it fraying as his presence enticed her closer.

Sam smirked and closed his own eyes, sliding a hand over her cheek as he inched his way to her mouth. But just before their lips could meet, before he could wow her with the prowess of his french kisses, the grandfather clock resting on the far wall chimed the hour, startling the couple out of their haze. Mercedes softly gasped and ducked her head, drawing away as she whispered, "I can't."

The small, gentle push to his chest disheartened him. Sam could feel the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks warm and color. "Sorry." He murmured as he crawled backward, feeling like a stupid cad for advancing on her. Despite his wishes, Mercedes obviously wasn't ready for him to kiss her. He was a fool to think that he could seduce her into changing her mind. "Should I just ...should I go?"

Panic marred her features. "Why? Do you want to?" she asked as sat up, stomach sinking at the thought. Mercedes knew how prudish and lame she must've looked to someone as experienced as Sam. A past version of herself wouldn't have cared if a guy threatened to leave because she wouldn't put out. But losing Sam as a boyfriend also meant losing Sam as her _best friend_. She'd lost too many people already, invested herself in too many confidantes that promised forever, only to disappear when someone else more interesting came along. His friendship meant everything to didn't seem as ready to leave as the rest, but perhaps her refusal to kiss him might've changed his mind.

Dating was a bad idea. What in the world ever possessed her to agree to it? Once someone breached relationship territory and retreated, it was near impossible to go back to being only friends. The cycle of couplings in Glee Club proved that well enough.

"Do you want me to leave?" Sam asked back, anxiously nibbling his lower lip. What did she expect from him? They were dating, but they couldn't tell anyone. She wanted to hold his hand and spend time with him, but only if they didn't touch too much. What did it all mean? How was he supposed to be her boyfriend if he wasn't allowed to do boyfriend things?

"Well, I don't...I mean, only if you..."A small, familiar jingle sounded from Mercedes's jeans before she could finish. She took her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the screen, smiling when a male, robotic voice greeted her with the nostalgia-inducing 'You Got Mail!' slogan of her pre-teen days.

"It's my voicemail." she offered meekly, glancing up when she explained. Her eyes flew back to her phone when their gazes awkwardly held for more than a moment. "I found the notification sound online and downloaded it."

Sam nodded in approval and eased back to sit on his calves, watching his thumbs twiddle in his lap with feigned interest. "It's cool. Good choice."

"Thanks." Mercedes unlocked her phone and found two missed calls and two voice mails awaiting her. Once she saw where her missed calls came from, Mercedes knew almost immediately what the messages would entail. Shaking her head, she dialed into her voice mail and played her messages on speaker, if only to fill the uncomfortable silence in the room.

"Hey Sassafras! It's Nettie," greeted her grandmother's voice, bringing an instant grin to Mercedes's face. Sam glanced up and gave a lopsided smile in return, loving the way her face lit up when she was truly happy. He wondered if her smile would be enough to make this relationship work, without the make-out sessions and the sex to keep them otherwise occupied. Maybe, he thought, if he could simply bring her the joy that caused a smile like that, she'd want to keep him. "Listen, your father told me that him and Pat went to another one of their conferences out of state, so I wanted to check in and make sure my baby was safe and sound. I told Jojo to stop leaving you behind in the big ol' empty house like that, but you know your father. That boy would argue with St. Paul if he tried to keep him out of heaven!"

The older woman's laugh was loud and spirited, a symphony all on its own. "Anyway, give Nettie a call back and let her know you're alright. You know I worry." She commanded, releasing a weighty sigh. "As for me, you know my knees started acting up again. Doctor says it's 'cause of the weight, but I think it's my sugars that's the problem. It's about to rain, too. I can feel it. But rain is just God washin' away the old and growin' the new, so I can't complain."

Mercedes giggled at her grandmother's many tangents. At sixty-six, she'd earned the right to ramble. "Your daddy keeps reminding me that you're well on your way to seventeen, but that don't do much to ease any grandmother's heart when their babies are so far away. You'll always be that little chubby-legged munchkin runnin' round my kitchen, dumpin' flour all over my clean floor to make snow angels and burnin' her hands when she tries to steal one of the biscuits coolin' on the stove. That's my sassafras."

Sam quietly watched on as Mercedes pressed the phone to her heart. Clearly she'd forgotten her live audience of one. He couldn't have been more thrilled.

When she wasn't hiding away in her private thoughts, every emotion she felt readily flickered across her face, one right after the other. If only he could see her feelings for him as clearly. It would give him all the answers to his burning questions, tell him how much of a shot he truly had at capturing her heart.

"Jojo also told me that you had a new boy hangin' around that's sweet on you. Stan or Smith or something another. One of them common, average Joe, white people names. Heard he's just as pasty, too. Mercy, I done warned you about these white boys outchea already." Mercedes looked up and gave Sam an apologetic smile, mouthing her sorry. Sam shrugged and chuckled, unbothered. "I _hope _he ain't the reason you not pickin' up this phone, 'cause you not to old or too far for me to snatch you back to yo'self. Jett might pull that mess, but you always had more sense than him. Keep them panties up and that skirt down, you hear me? You a child of God, _precious _and _unblemished _in his sight. Don't let no kisses and sweet talk charm you out of 'em no way. Nettie raised you better, now."

"Oh _god, _really?" Mercedes groaned and shielded her eyes. "Please pretend you didn't hear that."

"Too late. Can't unhear it now." Sam said delightedly, glorying in her embarrassment. "At least I know why I can't touch you."

Mercedes groaned anew. "I'm deleting it. Like _now_."

"Remember that verse in Hebrews chapter thirteen, Mercy. Let the marriage bed be undefiled and…..Oh lord, how that verse go again? Hold on one second, let me check…" Mercedes hit the delete button just when the flipping of bible pages sounded in the background.

"Your grandmother sounds amazing. I can't wait to meet her." Sam enthusiastically gushed.

"Oh yes, you can." Mercedes assured him, chuckling and shaking her head in disbelief. "She has even less of a filter in person, if you can imagine that."

"That Jones sass, huh?" The couple shared a small, friendly laugh. The earlier tension between them slowly began to dissipate, much to their relief.

"The next one's from my dad. He's just as much of a worrywart, but thankfully he's a man of fewer words. Notice I said _fewer_, not few." Mercedes remarked, rolling her eyes as she moved on to the next voicemail message.

"Hey baby girl, it's daddy." Mr. Jones's rich baritone always warmed with an abundance of fatherly affection when he spoke of his daughter, even in impersonal voice messages. "We just wanted to check in on you and make sure the house was still standing. Your mama and I were supposed to be heading back tonight, but the weather reports up here say that there's a massive thunderstorm heading in our direction. The airport already cancelled all flights for the night, so it looks like you'll be on your own until the morning. Make sure all the windows are locked up tight, okay? Be safe. Give me a call before you head to bed so your mother won't have an aneurysm worrying about you. I know you're fine and capable, but _this _one over here…" Sam and Mercedes heard her mother's voice playfully protesting in the background, then the dull thud of something hitting the phone's speaker. "Hey, hey! Don't be throwin' no pillows, woman!" he barked, then laughed at her reply, too distant in the background for his listeners to hear. "Anyway, we'll see you in the morning. Love you, bug. Sleep tight."

Mercedes sighed despondently and deleted her father's message, tossing her phone on the love seat behind her. "Love you too, dad." She murmured, hugging her shoulders.

Almost immediately, a bolt of lightning flashed through the darkening sky, visible from her living room window. The heavy crash of thunder soon followed, loud enough to rattle the storm door out front and make Mercedes jerk in fright. She _hated _thunderstorms. Even worse, she hated being alone during thunderstorms. Her father knew that about her, hence his warning call that they wouldn't return until morning. Thankfully, he hadn't chosen to recount all the times she'd hopped into her parents' bed during a terrible rainstorm on the voicemail. She would've been mortified if Sam had found out that her nearly sixteen year old behind still sought comfort from her parents.

"Well, I should probably head out now. Y'know, with the storm coming and everything." Sam commented, throwing his head in the direction of the front door as he rose to his feet. Mercedes rose with him and followed behind, anxiously watching his every move as he gathered his jacket from the coat closet and tossed his lengthy bangs back to slide on his beanie. "I'll catch you tomorrow if the weather's not too bad. Call you when I get home?" The hotel his family was staying in was a far cry from home, but it didn't feel right to say he was returning to a hotel after spending time with Mercedes in her palace of a residence.

"Yeah, sure." She answered reluctantly, stone-faced as she accepted his chaste kiss on the cheek. Outside, the streaks of lightning multiplied in the sky, tearing through thick, grey clouds billowing ominously overhead. The sounds of thunder grew, rolling and exploding loudly enough to set off a car alarm off in the distance. She wracked her brain for something, _anything_, to stop him from leaving. When she heard the click of the lock as the doorknob turned, Mercedes grew desperate, blurting out the first thing that came to mind that was shocking enough to halt him in his tracks.

"I'm a virgin!"

And Sam did freeze, just as she'd anticipated. After a beat of stunned silence, he slowly eased the door closed and spun on his heels to face her, wearing an expression she could only describe as 'discombobulated awe.' Discombobulated seemed like a more appropriate word than confused for some reason, matching the intensity of emotion inscribed in each of his changing expressions.

More silence. He pouted his lips. His eyes rolled to the ceiling. He attempted to speak several times, but each fragmented word came out as a squeak.

"Sam?" Hearing Mercedes call his name woke his limbs. He paced across the doorway twice before returning to his original spot. Sam faced her again, analyzing her for long moments, winding his fingers back as if replaying the moment over in his head, before nodding to himself.

"You just told me that you were a virgin, right?" he asked, still clearly stunned.

Mercedes nodded slowly, massaging her neck as her pulse grew quicker. The weight of her confession seemed to sink in for her as well. "I, um, didn't want you to leave without knowing?" She explained, rolling her left shoulder in a half-shrug. "I couldn't tell you before because I was scared of how you'd react. I didn't want you to treat me differently."

Sam nodded even though he still didn't fully understand, brows still furrowed in puzzlement. "So….why tell me now?"

"You asked me why I wouldn't let you kiss me or touch me. That's why. I've never done any of those things with anyone." The butterflies in her stomach fluttered so hard that it made her nauseous. They flew to her throat, wings beating against her esophagus in time with her palpating heart. "When I told you it wasn't you, I wasn't lying. You're not unattractive to me, I'm just….a virgin." She lamely finished, throwing her hands.

She waited expectantly in another stretch of silence, watching his every move for a reaction.

"So," Sam sighed, scratching the back of his head, "You were pulling away because you were scared to tell me that you were a virgin?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much it." she confessed with a bashful smirk, eyes wide and hopeful. Her stomach bottomed out when he started laughing.

"Seriously?! That's it? Oh Mercy, thank GOD!" he joyously exclaimed, beside himself with relief. "Baby, why were you scared to tell me that?"

"Because I thought you would laugh at me, like you're doing now," grumbled Mercedes, angrily swiping away the tears that began to form before crossing her arms. "I knew this was a mistake. Just break up with me already."

"What? No!" Sam exclaimed. He sensed her upset and hugged her waist, gently pulling her stiffened body closer to him. "Mercedes, hear me out. I'm not laughing at you." Mercedes rolled her eyes and scoffed, but his breath caught when a single tear rushed down her cheek.

"Aw, babe." He cooed, still chuckling as he kissed her forehead and both of her cheeks. The affection seemed to relax her shoulders, even if her angered expression hadn't changed, and persuaded her to look at him. "I laughed because I was relieved! I thought you didn't want me to kiss you because you'd figured out that you were too good for me."

"Too good for you? What the hell are you talking about?" Mercedes asked quietly, sniffling as another tear fell. It seemed that it was her turn to be discombobulated and awed. "Why would you think that?"

"Mercy, I live in a hotel with my parents and sleep on a cot. No privacy or fancy cable or money to my name. I'm a dork in unwashed hoodies with a haircut my dad shapes up in the bathroom using my sister's safety scissors. You live in a freaking palace and have everything going for you! Brains, looks….you're funny as hell. Funnier than me, which probably isn't saying much." That comment made the corners of her mouth quirk ever so slightly upward. "What part of you _isn't _too good for me?"

Her confusion fell away, leaving only awe in its wake. And her awe softened into loving concern, relaxing the creasing of her brows. "Unwashed hoodies and safety scissors? Really?" she chuckled, and her smile bloomed to its fullest when he playfully pinched her back. "That's not the way I see you at all, Sam. I like you. A lot."

He beamed at the sentiment. "That's good to hear. I like you a lot, too."

The couple hugged and sighed together, feeling decidedly lighter. They could finally do away with the ten-ton emotional weight bearing down on their relationship. Now that everything was out in the open, there was only potential for growth. There was only up.

"I didn't expect you to be so relieved about my news." Mercedes confessed with a laugh, pulling back to look at him. They remained in each other's embrace_**.**_

"Mercedes, I've been the ken doll in a crazy blonde's quest for popularity and the beard for a closeted lesbian that constantly made fun me for the size of my lips. Hell, she even wrote a song about it. Virginity I can handle." He stated confidently, kissing her forehead.

His girlfriend snorted in amusement. "Yeah, I guess I didn't think about that. I suppose that I'm your best chance then, huh?" She joked.

Sam nodded, growing serious. "I really think you are." He smirked, "And if you were wondering, I still want us to keep dating. I like you like, from the heart. It's not just my in-the-pants feelings talking."

Mercedes chuckled, wincing slightly at his awkward expression of returned feelings. "Good to know."

"Not that you _don't_ give me in the pants feelings, 'cause you do. You know, just so you know. Like, just because you're a virgin doesn't mean I don't think you're sexy. I think, maybe, being a virgin makes you sexier to me?" Her brow rose, and his blush rose from his neck to the very edge of his hairline until every inch of skin was dusted bright red. "But that's not why I'm with you! I'm just saying that I respect you for waiting to wait for the right time with the right person and..."

"And you're hoping you'll be my right person?" she playfully asked, poking his shoulder. His blush only grew richer.

"No! Not at all!" Rethinking, Sam hurriedly amended, "I mean yeah, that'd be nice, but that's not what I meant!"

"Relax, I was only teasing." Mercedes winked and patted his heated, ruddy cheek, thoroughly enjoying her power to make him fluster. "I think I like making you blush. It's nice not to be the only one."

Sam's grin widened at her confession. "I make you blush?" Mercedes answered with a shy shrug and duck of her head, biting her lower lip to suppress her confirming smile. "Nice."

Another loud roll of thunder, followed by a beating gust of wind pounding against the door, reminded them of the chaos brewing outside. "I should probably head out now, before it gets worse."

"Wait!" Mercedes grabbed hold and clung to his biceps before he could move away. She swallowed hard, nails unconsciously digging into his arms and pleading on her behalf. "If...If you stay," she began, voice quivering, "I can make us hot chocolate and we can watch movies. I have a bunch of superhero movies that my brother left behind for me. And my mom just bought like five kinds of cereal! I can get one of our big mixing bowls and you can have as much as you want! Just mix a bunch of them together, just like you like it."

Sam frowned, twisting his lips in distaste. "No, that's cool. I'll just…"

"And we can build a fort, too! I just finished laundry, so we should have lots of comforters. I'll make popcorn and bake cookies and we can make a fort in the living room in front of the TV!"

At first, Sam felt a bit affronted by the offer, believing it came from a place of pity. But the more she spoke, the more Sam realized that she was trying to give him reasons to stay with her because sex was out of the equation. She thought he needed other reasons to want to spend time with her. Every sentence, every word after the realization, left an aching in his chest.

His frown grew more severe. "Mercedes..."

Her desperation funneled her hearing. At first, she thought she'd only wanted Sam to stay because she was scared of being alone during the thunderstorm. But as she spoke, old anxieties resurfaced. Memories of friends leaving her home and never returning, of them walking to first period with new people and ignoring her, stacked one atop the other in a collage of images. Old pains of family kissing her goodbye and leaving on business trips, content to leave her alone for weeks on end, returned with a vengeance. "If you want food, I can whip up something or order us pizzas! My dad always leaves a bunch of money in case his trips run longer than usual. Or we can.."

"Mercedes, stop!" She jumped in fright at the stern tone, snapping her jaw shut. "Are you trying to _bribe_ me to stay with you?"

Mercedes hated needing people. She despised the mere feeling of neediness, of being small and leaving herself vulnerable to hurt, because it always came back to bite her in the end. Her weakness was always taken advantage of; exploited for someone else's personal gain, then tossed aside and neglected, leaving Mercedes to nurse her wounds alone. But in that moment, she couldn't find her usual fight to be strong. Just for now, she wanted to collapse in someone's arms and be held for a change, to depend on someone else to be her pillar of strength and calm the storm warring in her sensitive heart. With a sigh full of self-pity and longing, she croaked, "Is it working?"

Mercedes was always a proud and no nonsense person. That's how Sam knew her. That's how the world knew her. But crossing that threshold from friendship to romance had given her the permission she needed to be this delicate, soft spoken thing he'd never seen before. Deep down, Sam knew that it was always there, but not once in their time as friends had he gotten the privilege to see it as fully as he did now. she was frighteningly beautiful, this newly revealed part of Mercedes. He wanted to cradle her and rock her in his arms, offer her comfort in the same way he did for his sister when she woke from her nightmares. So that's what he did.

"Mercy, come here."

Sam held Mercedes tight and sure around her waist, anchoring her in ways she didn't know she needed. Mercedes's eyes widened when he pressed her head to his chest, then glistened with tears when he pressed several kisses to the top of her head and rocked her in his arms. They stayed that way for several moments, standing in place as they swayed to the soundtrack of rain pelting the asphalt roads outside. The thunder quieted. The bolts of lightning dimmed, disappearing within the drifting storm clouds.

"Please don't ever beg again." Sam quietly demanded, smoothing her hair. "You don't have to stoop that low."

Mercedes eased her head back, ashamed of her actions. Despondently, she sunk into herself, waiting for his inevitable excuse to leave. What he said instead truly shocked her.

"Mercedes, I'm your boyfriend. I'm your friend. I'm _here._" Sam gently smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he explained, "If you ever want me to stay, I don't need any reason but one. Just tell me you want me to stay and I'll stay with you. Say the word, and I'm yours."

"Wait, what?" she replied, certain she'd misheard him.

Sam gently chucked her chin, nodding reassuringly when their eyes met again. "You heard me."

"But I..._Oh_." It floored her, how simple it was to keep him. She was so used to convincing others that she was worth their time, offering the small luxuries she cared little for to lure them back to her. It had never been so easy. Not once did anyone offer to stay just for her. "Then, will you stay? Please?"

Her voice was soft, like the cooing of a dove, when she asked him. Hearing that voice stirred up every protective instinct he possessed. With a nod, Sam yanked off his beanie and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing them back in the closet without care to hang them properly. "Well, would you look at that. Abracadabra and Alakazam," Sam touched an imaginary magic wand to his his head, then threw out his arms and swiveled around, grabbing her hands."I'm here. And you know what? I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

And her smile in reply was the sun. It grew so big, so bright and achingly gorgeous, that Sam felt his heart lurch with some overpoweringly wonderful emotion he couldn't decipher. Or rather, one he didn't dare name so early. The only other time he'd ever felt it was in the presence of family; never with anyone he'd ever dated, and certainly not with someone he'd only committed to a week ago. It was the first time he'd realized how meaningless all of his past I love you's were, tossed around in the heat of lust because he'd felt a small connection. But nothing ever felt more like I love you than watching her glow for him, than uncovering the beauty of Mercedes's happiness and knowing that he'd had a hand in making it happen.

**O-O**

"Do you want to dance?"

Sam reached for the DVD remote on the end table, stopping _Batman Returns _just as Seal sang through the end credits. Mercedes, enjoying the last traces of buttered popcorn on her fingertips, froze mid-suck at the question.

"You want to dance? Right now? Really?" she asked in surprise, grabbing a napkin to wipe her face and hands before discarding it in the empty popcorn bowl. "I thought you told me dancing wasn't really your thing. If I remember our conversation at prom correctly, weren't your exact words 'rhythm isn't native to my people'?"

"Hey, except for the choice exceptions, isn't it true?" he retorted, raising a brow in challenge. "But, I've been practicing and I want to show you my moves, so..."" He beckoned her over with a jerking of his head, tapping his foot where he wanted her to join him. "Get your cute butt over here and dance with me."

"Excuse me?" Mercedes folded her legs meditation style and crossed her arms, smirking playfully as she tutted him. "Now, that's not the way you asked me before, is it? Gotta do better, Evans." She reprimanded with an arched brow, hoping he'd remember.

"Ah! My apologies, Milady. It seems I've forgotten me manners!" he replied in his best cockney English accent, bowing before her. Clearing his throat as he straightened, Sam returned to his normal voice. "Mercedes?"

"Yes?" she answered in mock surprise, verbatim from the script they'd created at prom.

"I just wanted to tell you that you look beautiful." Though he was only repeating the words from his first request to dance with her at prom, the compliment held a renewed sincerity. Sam stretched out his hand, offering his palm to her. "Would you like to dance?"

Rounded, chestnut eyes sparkled as she rested her palm in his. "I'd love to." Grinning, Mercedes unfolded her legs to stand, allowing Sam to pull her up. Following his formal lead, she tucked her right foot behind her left ankle and slightly bent her knees, greeting him with a curtsy of her own.

Sam twirled her around once before sweeping her into his arms, interlocking the fingers of his left hand with her right. They began to sway side to side and circle around the room, and Mercedes laughed delightedly at the flourish of his movements.

"What is this, a Disney movie?" she chortled, enjoying the buoyant, pitching feeling in her belly each time he tossed her about. "We don't even have music!"

"Who needs music?!" Sam exclaimed, popping a leg in the air as they fell into a dip. "The _rhythm_ is going to get you!"

When they rose, Mercedes was shaking with uncontrollable laughter. She burrowed her face in his shoulder, squeaking each time she gasped for breath. Her shoulders quaked when the laughter begun anew.

"What you think this is funny?" Sam teased, poking her sides. "I'm over here, trying to be romantic, and you're laughing at me!"

"Then stop acting so silly and I won't laugh!" she playfully argued, poking him back.

And so began the poke war, with Sam chasing Mercedes around the cleared living room once she wriggled out of his embrace. She leapt over the couch, shielding herself behind it, before he threw himself over the arm of the chair to tuck and roll right beside her. They poked and laughed and rolled around until their bodies were too sore from all the strain. Sam struggled to stand upright again, accidentally poking Mercedes in the breast with his elbow when he slipped and fell to his knees. With a gasp, Mercedes counter-attacked, aiming for his cheek, but a misplaced jab of Mercedes's finger landed right in Sam's eye.

"Ow!" he laughed, cupping his injury."Okay, fine! I'll be serious! No need for violence." With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Sam pushed himself up to stand, more successfully this time. After helping Mercedes to her feet, Sam sauntered over to her father's stereo, carefully roaming through the organized stack of CDs in the swiveling rack. "The lady asks for music, then I shall provide music."

Mercedes watched him search, sighing in relief as the last of her laughter died off. "My dad only has old school music, just so you know. You might need my help."

Sam sucked his teeth. "What? Is that some musical equivalent of 'white boy can't jump'? I'll have you know, Ms. Jones, that I know quite a bit about _all _types of music." He bragged, smiling as he placed his selection in the CD player and selected his track. "Don't underestimate my ability to shock you."

"Oh trust me, I have no doubts about that anymore," responded Mercedes, holding up her hands in a show of surrender. "I've let that notion go a long time ago."

Sam returned to her and reclaimed their earlier dance posture, just as the music filtered through the speakers. Mercedes recognized the song as soon as they began their slow swaying, and the irony of Sam's choice sucker-punched her in the stomach and tickled her insides at the same time, causing an odd sort of groaning laugh to escape as she threw her head back. "You cannot be serious! Out of all the songs you could've chosen..."

"What, is this a bad one? It's not tied to any memories of one of your exes, is it?" probed Sam, only half joking.

"Ha! If only." She guffawed, shaking her head. "No, this is my parents' favorite song. They danced to it at their wedding."

"Oh really? Well then, confession time. I haven't actually heard this song before." Sam shrugged, cheeks tinged pink. "I just picked it because it was in the stack labeled 'Joe's Top Picks' and thought it would be a safe bet."

Mercedes laughed at his truthfulness. "Well, thank you for your honesty. It was a good chance pick." She comforted, rubbing the shoulder her hand rested on. "And The Stylistics are my dad's favorite group. He really loves lyrics. About as much as I do, even though he isn't much of a singer. My mom and I sing. Daddy just appreciates."

"_My love.." _the song began, pausing their conversation. "_I'll never find the words, my love..." _

"Shh, listen..." hushed Mercedes, closing her eyes. Sam, who hadn't been speaking at all, gave a small smile at the unnecessary silencing.

_To tell you how I feel, My love_

_Mere words could not explain_

_Precious love_

_You held my life within your hands_

_Created everything I am_

_Taught me how to live again_

"Wow, isn't that beautiful?" Mercedes hummed the melody as it played, the tune ingrained in her since she was a toddler. Her parents would often have living room dances of their own when she was smaller, and she'd sit and watch , mesmerized her mother and father's voices as they sang to each other.

"It is beautiful." Sam smiled, boldly staring at her contented face. Because her eyes were closed, Mercedes completely missed the adoration shining in his eyes. If she'd seen it, she would have known that his compliment had absolutely nothing to do with the song.

_Only you_

_Cared when I needed a friend_

_Believed in me through thick and thin_

Mercedes thought of her parents, of their perfect and endless love, and secretly wished in her heart that she could discover it someday. When she opened her eyes, there was Sam, starry-eyed as he gazed at her.

_This song is for you_

_Filled with gratitude and love_

The naked emotion she found there—not just in his stare, but radiating from his entire being—caused something inside her to click into place. The more she listened again to lyrics she'd heard a million times over, the more she realized that they could easily apply to the man standing in front of her, second only to her father in his ability to make her feel cherished.

_God bless you_

_You make me feel brand new_

"You're right. This song's amazing." Sam noted in a hushed voice, distracted by the swirly stirrings in his belly. Their eyes locked and held for longer than it ever had in the past, for reasons Sam fully understood as he experienced. Capturing and holding Mercedes's attention felt like being sucked into a vortex. It ripped away the surface, superficial things until only the soul remained; A rebirthing of sorts, housed in the body, changing him completely. Sam had no intentions of returning to who he used to be before today. He found comfort in the mutual uncovering, in the shedding of protective masks that felt oddly reminiscent of the stripping away of clothes, but somehow _more. _Could Mercedes feel it, too? Did she sense it?

"My dad told me that he heard this song the first time he met my mother," revealed Mercedes, undoing their laced fingers to circle her arms around his neck. She stepped forward, until their bodies pressed together and their warmth could be shared. Sam welcomed her with a splayed hand across her lower back. The spell of their gaze remained interrupted, unblinking. "It was a school dance, and he saw her sitting at a table by herself. Their eyes met when the song started, and that's when he knew that she was the one. He asked her to dance."

"Just like that, huh?" he asked, voice breaking. "Sounds like destiny."

"Yeah, I guess." Mercedes faintly smiled. She could hear her own breaths as she took them, feel her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. Did Sam feel his heart, too? Did it beat as strongly as hers?

"It also sounds..." Sam swallowed hard, hoping to clear away the scratchiness in his throat. "It sounds kind of familiar too, doesn't it?"

Her eyes darted to his again, alive with recognition of the created parallel and what it meant. "Yeah. Crazy coincidence, right?" she nervously chuckled, struggling to fight the rapid tremors creeping up her spine, to ignore the beads of sweat rolling down her back.

Sam lips trembled into a lopsided smile. "Yeah...crazy."

_My love_

_Whenever I was insecure_

_You built me up and made me sure_

_You gave my pride back to me_

Mustering courage, Mercedes tucked her head underneath his chin and rested against his chest, choosing for the first time in her life to succumb to the strangeness happening around her without question. It felt good to be held, to be wrapped up in the arms of a boy who cared for her. Wherever this newly blossomed thing between them was headed felt...well, right. As scared as she was, Mercedes made up in her mind that she wouldn't let her fear prevent it from happening.

As if he could hear her decision, Sam held her waist tighter and kissed her on the forehead. Mercedes smiled against his neck, then nudged his lips with her forehead, begging for another. The vibrations of his chuckle quivered against her mouth. Sam obliged and kissed again, lingering to slide his lips across soft skin as they danced.

_Precious friend_

_With you, I always have a friend_

_You're someone who I can depend_

_To walk a path that sometimes bends_

"I've never given much thought to my wedding song, you know. Or a wedding period, for that matter." She spoke against the column of his throat, voice barely above a whisper. Her breaths tickled his Adam's apple as it bobbed.

"Really?" he replied, in the same tone, lips traveling to her temple to rest. "I thought girls always envisioned those things."

"I didn't think I'd ever meet anybody that would make me care." She laughed softly. "What's the point of imagining a dress and thinking of a venue...planning a first dance _song_ if you know you'd never have anyone to share it with? I didn't see any fairytale endings in the cards for me." Even quieter, she murmured, "Always hoped for one, but didn't see it."

Sam hummed in acknowledgement, hearing her wish. "And now?"

Mercedes glanced up to reply, but the words died in her throat when she realized how close in proximity their lips were. Close and perfectly aligned.

Taking a shuddered breath, strong enough for Sam to feel the cool air wash across his mouth, she stuttered, "A-and now what?"

_Without you_

_Life has no meaning or rhyme_

_Like notes to a song out of time_

"Do you believe now? In fairytale endings, I mean." He sounded calm, but on the inside, Sam was running hot and cold. Icy chills and scalding fevers raced through his veins at hyper-speed. He wanted to be that guy, that one to make her believe again. Was that asking too much? Was he enough?

Mercedes nodded numbly, gulping. "I think I'm starting to." He was so close, so inviting and wonderfully kissable. She'd never felt the urge to taste someone before, but now the need was overwhelming.

Sam felt the same, but fought his desire to initiate it. If he intended to rectify his earlier wrong, he'd have to ask her permission first.

_How can I repay_

_You for having faith in me?_

"Mercedes? Is it okay if I..."

She tilted her head and surged forward in earnest longing, joining their lips on the very cusp of the song.

_God bless you…._

And when Sam responded, applying pressure, the resulting kiss introduced them both to something entirely new. Their joining fulfilled them, in the same way an answered prayer fulfilled a needy soul, knowing his ails had reached heaven's ears.

_You make me feel brand new_

The surprising, violent stab lust that drove through them seconds later tore them apart just as quickly as they came together. Shock gave way to confusion, then awe, morphing into something akin to acceptance, before they allowed themselves to smile. Sam rested his forehead against hers, and the two took twin inhales of breath.

"Oh..." Mercedes exhaled in wonder, bunching the neck of his shirt in her fists to keep him close.

"Wow..." breathed Sam soon after, green eyes roaming across her face, recording the moment his entire world came together to memory, before closing the small space between them to coax a second kiss.

_For God blessed me with you…_

**O-O**

Mercedes woke early the next morning on her living room floor, bundled up in her starred purple comforter. A lengthy yawn escaped her as she flexed her back, bones popping in their return to their appropriate sockets, before she turned on her side and cast her bleary eyes to the window. Early sunrise painted the skies lovely shades of amber and mauve, with smatterings of violet clouds dispersed throughout. No signs of the previous night's storm remained.

"Sam?" rasped Mercedes, groaning as she rolled onto her opposite side to face him. After their kiss, she and Sam eased apart and slowed things down, opting to create a fort of blankets and chairs to settle under for the night. In lieu of kissing, the two spent the remainder of the evening sharing more of their deeper secrets, things they hadn't dared to share when they were only friends. By the time they'd finished talking, all six of the stereo's rotating discs played to completion, and the two fell asleep side by side, holding each other's hand. Their fingers were still loosely linked together now, despite Mercedes's tendency to roll around as she slept.

Either her body was completely still last night—which had never happened before, not once in her life—or Sam's hand had unconsciously searched for hers each time their link had broken. Both theories were odd, but not entirely unsettling to consider. At least, not anymore.

"Sam?" He finally stirred on the second call of his name, yawning big and quickly running his free hand across his face to awaken numbed muscles. His fingers lingered around the corners of his mouth, wiping away the crusting of drool he found there. Sam saw her face as soon as his eyes opened, and when his brain woke enough to recognize who it was resting beside him, his entire countenance brightened.

"Mercedes. Good morning." Her name was always a song on his tongue, even when his voice was heavy with sleep. The affection in his voice cradled every syllable. "Did you sleep okay?"

She smiled softly at his concern, gently squeezing the hand in hers. "I did. Did you?"

"Yeah." He smiled back, taking a deep, satisfying breath. "Best sleep I've had in a while. Must be something special about rich people's floors. Made of clouds and angel wings, I tell you."

Mercedes snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes, reaching up to brush his strewn hair away from his eyes. His fingers clasped around her wrist before she could pull away, guiding her hand to rest on his cheek. She hummed in pleasure, cupping the smooth skin in her palm, before taking the plunge to close the distance and kiss him. Their bodies remained close, buzzing after the chaste greeting ended, as their eyes connected and held.

"You know what I dreamt about last night?" Mercedes quietly asked, thumb caressing his lower lip.

Sam shook his head in the negative. "Tell me." He commanded just as quietly, playfully capturing the digit between his lips. He kept it captive until Mercedes grinned and wiggled it free, swatting the tip of his nose in punishment. "I dreamt about yellow roses."

"Like the ones your pop-pop used to leave you?" he asked seriously, wide eyed and attentive.

Mercedes had shared many of the good memories of her late grandfather last night. One of her most precious ones was his affinity for buying fresh yellow roses for her room each morning, sneaking in to replace the old ones before she could wake up. The tradition started long before she could remember and lasted long after he and Nettie divorced, when her summers were split between the house she'd known and a cramped couch in his new apartment. Even then, with all the terrible changes, he'd kept the sentiment alive for her. For the man of few words, the gesture symbolized all the love he couldn't verbally express, all the joy her delightful presence brought into his bleak life. Yellow roses were a secret message between him and Mercedes alone, and after his death, they were the only flowers she'd keep in her room. They meant happiness, endless love, and all the things that mattered most in life. She cherished them as much as she cherished her grandfather's memory.

With a small nod, Mercedes continued. "If I ever get married, I think I want my bouquet to be all yellow roses. That way, a little bit of him will still walk with me down the aisle, you know?" She anxiously shifted about, rubbing her thighs together and rolling her shoulders back, before reaching for the hand that had fallen away. Mercedes laced their fingers together once more. "What do you think? Do you like that idea?"

Sam was silent for a long moment, blown away by the question and all it meant. With a small, contented sigh, he kissed the knuckle in his grasp, massaging the imprint of his lips into her skin with swirling motions of his thumb. "I think that's a beautiful idea." He replied, reaching down to wrap his arm around her waist. Mercedes shifted closer before he could pull her, without any nervous shivering or inklings of hesitation. "You know what would go great with that? Lavender."

"Lavender?" she questioned, wracking her brain for any stories he'd shared of the flower's significance. Her memory gave nothing back. "Why lavender?"

"Well, it's a great compliment to bright yellow. Plus it's purple, which is your favorite color. If yellow roses are the theme, then lavender would make a great accent." Sam snorted in amusement and tapped his temple. "That was the artist part of my brain talking there. Sorry. Can't shut the damn thing off."

Mercedes smiled warmly, tapping their clasped hands against his chest, just over his heart. "Why else? Does it mean something to you?"

Sam was afraid to tell her. If he did, it might reveal too much of him. Mercedes might think he was too soft, too weak and unmanly, and be turned off. But despite himself, he opened his mouth. "Lavender's calming and peaceful. When I smell it, it puts me in a good place. Our old house always used to smell like lavender and spearmint. Mom loved burning incense at the end of the day. For me, it meant I was safe. It meant love." Sam nervously cleared his throat before continuing, "Sometimes, I steal some of the lavender soaps I find from the hotels we stay in so I can bathe my brother and sister in it. It helps them sleep better."

Sam's admission made the decision for her. "Lavender's a good idea." She whispered, leaning her head in until their foreheads touched. Sam pressed kisses in the spaces where their knuckles locked together, resting their joined hands just below the pulsing in her ribcage. "I like them together."

"Me too." He whispered back with smiling eyes, gently squeezing her fingers. "Sounds perfect."

That morning, Sam and Mercedes learned that there were many other ways, beyond sex and other passions, to tell someone they were special. More often than not, the rarity of simple words like "Stay with me" and "I'll always be here" whispered between lovers was more highly revered in the heart than any other shared climax.

**O-O**

**Well, now you know why yellow roses are a thing between Samcedes in the DHKY universe! Cute, huh? Song used in this fic was "You make me feel brand new" by The Stylistics, one of my faves. Go listen and get all the feels. I dare you. **

**And most importantly, review, review, review! I'd be lying if I said I didn't need a little validation...**


	42. Chapter 40 Clouded Sight & Thunderstorms

**A/N: Still no dinner at Nettie's, folks. But, in all fairness, I have a legitimate explanation. I made the horrible, horrible mistake of watching recent episodes of Glee, and after seeing the try-hard travesty that is Sam and Rachel (I honestly can't even write their ship name because it's so triggering), my muse seized, fell to the ground, and went into a concussive coma. All the scenes I'd written for their Christmas weekend could not be finished, as I had to spend a majority of my time tending to my muse's brokenness. As fellow fangirls and fanboys, I'm sure you can sympathize with me, as many of your muses seem to have experienced similar reactions to the ship that must not be named (if the lack of fanfiction updates are any indication.) **

**But fear not, dear ones. A Samcedes endgame is on the horizon and the muse is well on her way to a rapid recovery. I will finish this story for you. No worries. And this chapter is definitely _not _a filler one by any means. Lots and lots of meat and 'taters in this one.**

**Hope you enjoy the update! And as always, I love hearing from you guys. **

**Xoxoxo, **

**KurlyQ722**

_Trigger Warning: Mentions of Heavy Bleeding/Possible pregnancy complications and/or grave illness in first section of chapter. Skip to the second symbol (_**_O-O_**_) to avoid altogether._

**O-O **

Lightning flashed across the charcoal sky in the very moment Mercedes shot up in bed, awoken by an agonizing, unrelenting pressure in her lower stomach. She wrapped her arms around her waist and doubled over with a groan as the first boom of thunder sounded, then rolled onto her side and curled into herself on the second boom that followed. The pain only intensified as she threw her legs over the side of her bed, shocking her into full consciousness, ripping away the comfortable weight of lethargy lingering in her limbs, and her cries crescendoed until the howling winds that rattled her bedroom windows appeared gentle in its wake.

She couldn't stand. It hurt to breathe deeply, let alone attempt to straighten up and walk. When she tried, Mercedes collapsed to her knees. She was forced to crawl to the bathroom, pausing ever so often to whimper and gasp when the torturous spasms pinched her lower back. Her period cramps had never been this severe before, even when her cycle had been delayed for months at a time. Either this month was a glaring exception or something was terribly, terribly wrong.

With trembling hands, she grabbed the corner of her bathroom sink and pushed herself upright, just enough to seat herself on the toilet without disrupting the curl of her abdomen.

As soon as her bottom touched the bowl, Mercedes felt a vile, bitter fluid rise in her throat and rush through her mouth, and she grabbed the small garbage can beside her just in time to avoid a disastrous mess on her white tile floors.

Her bowels were prompted to release from the force of her retching, trapping Mercedes in the bathroom for nearly twenty minutes as her body gave and gave and gave from either end of her. The strong floral scent of lavender incense burning in the corner only abetted her nausea.

"God, I'm dying." She groaned, air whooshing past her lips as her body collapsed between her knees. Mercedes grabbed hold of her ankles and took deep breaths, hoping the relaxation exercises she'd practiced for her panic attacks would have the same effect on her uterus. After all, it was as much of a muscle as her heart or her diaphragm, so why not? Plus, her body had already gone through the ringer. She was weary and desperate enough to try anything at this point. If Mercedes hated anything more than being in pain, it was succumbing to weakness.

But to her utter relief, the breathing exercise seemed to help a great deal. After a couple of minutes, the contracting began to ease, her back muscles had lost some of their stiffness, a majority of the pain finally went away when a large, slimy glob of something (she presumed a blood clot) slipped out of her and plopped into the toilet.

"Finally! Thank you, Jesus." The ovarian war waging in her body had finally ceased fire and made peace, giving Mercedes just enough strength in her limbs to stand. Once she was steady on her feet, she snuck a peek into the toilet to survey the carnage.

Blood. All she could see was blood, enough to turn the toilet water crimson and stain the walls of the bowl bright red. Gory streaks still ran down the inside of her thighs, flowing heavily enough for Mercedes to quickly wind a bundle of toilet paper around her hand and catch it before it dripped to the floor. But even after, the bleeding continued, and the metallic smell of it all made her stomach churn once more.

Yeah, something felt _extremely_ off.

Disgusted, Mercedes hurriedly wound a second bundle of toilet paper to stuff between her legs, serving as a temporary pad, before reaching for the toilet lid. But before she could close it and flush, a black, crudely spherical mass floated to the water's surface, too tissue-like in appearance to be dismissed as excrement. Mercedes wouldn't call herself an expert on reading her body's signals by any means, but she knew her body well enough to know that whatever she'd passed wasn't her usual blood clot. It just looked...larger and thicker. Different, somehow.

Curious, she leaned in slightly, squinting to make out what it was without having to fish it out. It looked like a tiny fluid-filled sac, almost cyst-like in appearance, with two jagged-edged stubs jutting out from either side, as if it was previously attached somewhere in her body and had been forcibly ripped away.

Mercedes slammed the lid closed and quickly flushed, mildly terrified of all the things that small lump could possibly be. Did she have cancer? Fibroids? What could come from her that would look _anything _like that?

Another possibility nagged her, tugged away in the back of her mind, but she refused to acknowledge it. Mercedes did what she did best when faced with unwanted change. If she couldn't run from it or fight it away, then she would ignore it completely, shrinking away from the truth until it was no longer a concern. Facts were only facts when proven. If she refused to investigate, then the truth couldn't bother her, and in her world, couldn't possibly be real. The defense mechanism had served her well through other tragedies, especially after her grandfather's death a few years ago. Throughout the entire service, from the opening prayers to the moment they lowered his casket into the ground, Mercedes refused to look at his body. It was the only way she could pass bouquets of yellow roses on window sills and hear older men laugh around in the same full, raucous way he used to without completely unraveling. Grief didn't leave much room for proper functioning. A go-getting perfectionist like herself couldn't afford the luxury of slowing down and wallowing.

Instead of dwelling in her thoughts, Mercedes decided to move with purpose. She retrieved her heating pad from under the sink and plugged it in next to her bed, setting it on her side of the mattress for later use. Then, she went to the kitchen and placed a kettle of water on the stove to boil, in hopes that a soothing cup of tea would help to settle her stomach. One bag of ginger tea remained in the cupboard, hidden behind Sam's whey protein and several bottles of vitamins. She fished her favorite zebra-print mug from an adjoining cupboard, one with the word DIVA repeatedly embossed along the lip in sparkly, purple script, and set the tea bag inside in preparation, resting it beside a small bottle of squeezable honey on the counter.

Finally, Mercedes returned to her bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet for pain-killers. She'd picked up a large bottle of Acetaminophen yesterday during her grocery shopping trip, but with the excitement of Bree and Connor's impromptu arrival, it was hard to remember whether or not she had packed it away in its proper place.

"Ah, here it is." The bottle was right on the second shelf with the rest of the medications, exactly where it should be. What was out of place, however, was the blue and pink boxed pregnancy test perched on the shelf below, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the mostly cylindrical bottles with pale colored packaging. Mercedes had forgotten it was even there. When she'd cleaned the bathroom earlier today, she must have completely overlooked it again. Otherwise, it obviously would've been discarded with the rest of the trash.

Then again, looking back on her previous cleaning excursions, the test always seemed to escape her eye. It always managed to remain in her possession somehow, haunting like a bad omen. Even now, as she took the box out of the cabinet along with her Tylenol, its presence, its significance, seemed to taunt her. The tugging in the back of her mind grew strong enough to make her head spin.

Taking a breath, Mercedes removed the test and let the box fall to the floor, glaring at it as she tested its weight in the palm of her hands. In her opinion, the stick felt lighter than it should, bearing the heavy news it carried. The design was far too waif-like to be taken seriously. How could this thing absorb enough urine to get accurate results?

Still, she thought of Sam's concern for her, of his delicate balance between loving insistence to see a doctor and reluctant acceptance of her refusals, allowing her the space she needed to make decisions. Her assault taught her to fear the safe things, like hospitals and doctors and the threat of sudden shiftings in her world's atmosphere. Out of all his wonderful attributes, Sam's courage was most enviable. He never ran when things became difficult. Her love was a rock, standing firm in the midst of life's worst circumstances. Even when he didn't fully understand what was going on around him, had no guarantees of a happy ending, Sam weathered the storm without an ounce of hesitation.

Mercedes thought of her own irrational fear of thunderstorms, of the irony that an actual storm had begun right outside her window when the pain consumed her. In Los Angeles, storms happened as frequently as sunshine, but her near two years here did little to cure the knee jerk reaction of hiding under her covers. She felt the same urge now, staring at the test in her hands. She wanted to crank up her heating pad, set it against her bare tummy, and pull her heavy comforters over her head until the ominous feeling went away. She wanted to throw the test in the puke-filled trash, or better yet, pitch it outside the window and let the four-story fall destroy it for her.

But she remembered Erin and her willingness to pee on several of these sticks, even though a positive result was unlikely. She thought of how much she bled, of the dark tissue floating to the top of her porcelain red sea like a message in a bottle, warning her to pay attention to the signs. She thought of her brief scare in high school, and how Mother Nature came soon after to ease her worries, stripping away the lining of her uterine walls in assent that life would not grow there before its time. But most of all, oddly of all, she thought of Sam; his expectant eyes and eager heart, overflowing with love for her. He was one who stayed_; _who promised her he'd always be there and had never retreated, even when their circumstance grew difficult. She felt his enviable courage shroud her, as if he were right behind her, taking it off himself to rest in on her shoulders. He'd done the same with his high school varsity jacket once upon a time, when they were still light and innocence and _summer. _

Mercedes reminded herself that she was nearly twenty, in college, with a fiancée eager to marry her and better means than most. Taking another cleansing breath, she pressed a hand to her stomach and prayed, asking God to grant her something she couldn't name, to give her the desire in her heart that remained unclear. Then, with a resigned nod and rolling back of her shoulders, she closed her bathroom door, sat down on the toilet once more, and prepared herself to test.

This time, she would not run. She would be courageous like Sam and face the things that terrified her. Regardless of what the results turned out to be, what her heavy bleeding might mean, she'd stand firm. She'd ball her fists, grind her teeth, and _stay. _

**O-O**

When Sam returned home from rehearsal, it was nearly three in the morning, hours after Mercedes had sprayed and scrubbed every inch of their bathroom. None of the evidence of her bleeding remained, not even the faintest smell of iron or smudge of red on their white appliances. Only the barest whiff of bleach lingered underneath the crisp mint and vanilla wafting from their incense box, moved to rest on the night table beside Mercedes's now slumbering form. Her empty mug and uncapped bottle of Tylenol rested just behind it, clearly abandoned in favor of whatever Mercedes seemed to be writing in her journal before sleep overtook her.

"Mercy, I'm home!" bellowed Sam from the hallway, whipping out his reserve Ricky Ricardo impression as he toed off his shoes. "Ju gos'some 'splainin' to do!"

When he made his way to the bedroom, Sam paused at the open doorway to take in the beauty of his fiancee sprawled across their bed, snoring loud enough to drown out his terrible imitation of a Cuban accent. She'd taken to one of his oversized shirts recently and began the habit of falling asleep in nothing else. For the past couple of nights, when his rehearsals would run longer than normal in preparation for their performance at the Night of Healing event, he'd find her this way, legs bare and encroaching on his side of the bed with the covers bunched up near the foot of the bed.

Crossing his arms as he rested against the doorframe, Sam laughed quietly and shook his head, awed by how a little person like her could take up the entire king sized space. "Good thing you're adorable when you're unconscious, Mercy." He remarked in a hushed voice, pushing forward on the ball of his foot to propel his body into the room. "And super easy to roll over."

Whenever Sam spoke to her, Mercedes would smile in her sleep. It was the smallest twitch of the corners of her mouth, but clearly visible, enough to convince Sam that his fiancée could hear his voice on a subliminal level. Sam first noticed it when he'd spent the night at her house, shortly after their first kiss. He watched her as she slept, unable to sleep himself from years of unaddressed insomnia, and studied her every move. When she rolled away from him, releasing his hand, he'd scoot closer and wrap himself around her slumbering form, slipping his fingers between hers to stay connected. When she'd roll toward him, head flopping against his chest, he'd shift back to give her space, just enough to avoid startling her if she woke in the middle of the night. And when the thunderstorm grew worse during the night and she began to shiver in his arms, he'd rub her back and whisper words of comfort in her ear until she grew lax again.

Sam couldn't remember all he'd said to her; only that he'd spoken solely from his heart, sharing thoughts and feelings he'd only fully explored a few hours prior. The only sentence he could recall, as clearly as the day he'd said it, was the one that caused lips to quiver and upturn shortly afterward.

_I__'__ll always be here._

Every night since then, when he was granted the privilege of sharing a room (and eventually a bed) with a resting Mercedes, he'd say her name or call her a familiar term of endearment when he was close by and delight in the magic of her response.

"Hey, beautiful," he lovingly whispered to her slumbering form, illuminated by the warm glow of lamplight in the otherwise darkened room. Sam set the items in his hands on the floor beside her, leaning over to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I've missed you all day."

Mercedes moaned and stirred slightly beneath him, but seemed otherwise content to remain sleeping, turning on her face to nestle her nose deeper into her pillow. Or rather _his_ pillow, if the blue and white striped pillowcase with a red star told any truths. Sam took the open journal and feathered pen off of her lap to set them on the floor as well, then shrugged out of his rain-soaked leather jacket and stripped until he was only in his boxers.

"Baby? Wake up for me?" Sam realized that it might've been selfish of him to want to wake her, but they hadn't seen much of each other the entire day. Between his early morning call to sound check and her busier than usual recording schedule, they'd barely greeted one another with a proper good morning kiss.

"Mercy?" He pressed another kiss to her forehead, lingering long enough to cup both of her cheeks in his hands, and smiled when she sighed and dragged the pads of her fingers up and down his arms, drawing wide, soothing circles across bare flesh until he pulled away.

"Hi, baby," she replied in a raspy voice, sliding her palms up and across his shoulders to stroke the sides of his neck. "I tried to wait up for you, but I failed."

They chuckled together, and Sam pressed several smaller kisses between her brows in silent gratitude. "Is that why you were up this late? And why you're breath smells so minty fresh?" he whispered, sliding the tip of his nose down the bridge of hers until her puffy eyes opened. "Mercedes, it's almost three in the morning. You could've settled in and gone to bed. I wouldn't have minded."

She shrugged, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "It's not like I was waiting around watching the clock or anything. I did some light cleaning." Her head motioned to the open bathroom door. "And some writing for the album." Mercedes suddenly frowned, patting herself all over for her missing book. "Did my journal fall?"

Sam retrieved her journal and pen from the floor, handing it back to her with a knowing smirk. "Writing about me again? Is it a song or a poem this time?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes and playfully bopped his nose, tossing her journal beside her in bed. "Don't get cocky, sir. Not everything's about you. I happen to have other inspirations."

"Well, lucky for me, I happen to know most of them." Sam cockily replied, "At least I think I do." He quickly snatched up an object wrapped in green tissue paper from the floor, hiding it behind his back before she could get a clear look at it. "Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you."

"Sam, haven't you learn your lesson with me yet? Do you want me to list the many, many failed surprises in our past?"

"I'm stubborn and hardheaded, okay? That's why we're perfect matches. So are you." Mercedes playfully scoffed and punched his arm. Sam grinned. "Just do it. Trust me, you'll like this one."

"Really? Ooh, what is it?" she giggled, trying in vain to peek over his broad shoulders. Mercedes slipped her arms around his waist in a faux loving embrace, but Sam quickly caught on to her scheme and hopped off the bed, dodging her sneaky hands before she could reach. Her plump bottom lip jutted out in a mock pout.

"Boo, you're no fun." Sam stuck out his tongue, responding just as childishly. "Can I guess?"

"No! I want to surprise you!" Sam insisted. Undeterred, Mercedes made a lunge for him, but Sam sidestepped just in time to miss her, rolling his eyes at her overly zealous efforts. "Will you just close your eyes? I promise you'll be _inspired__._"

"Ugh, fine!" Mercedes cupped her hands over her eyes with a playful smirk. "See? Eyes effectively shut."

"Now say abracadabra."

"Really, Sam? Not this again." she laughed, parting her fingers to peek at him. "What are we, four?"

"Will you just say it?" Sam insisted with a smirk, nudging her jutted elbow with his knee.

"Okay, fine." She rolled her eyes and played along, closing her fingers and shutting her eyelids underneath her hands. "Abracadabra. Now can I see?"

"Open your eyes." When she did, her awed gasp was genuine. Sam held two dozen of the lushest long-stemmed yellow roses she'd ever seen in front of him, wrapped elegantly in bundles of green tissue paper rolled up to fashion the shape of leaves. What took her most by surprise were the tiny sprigs of lavender dispersed amongst the flowers, fragrant and vividly purple next to the contrasting petals. "I figured we were overdue. It's been a while since I've brought you some."

Mercedes took the bouquet when he stretched them towards her, eyes shining with grateful tears. Her index finger grazed a bundle of the tiny lavender flowers dangling from wiry stems, stroking them until the scent rubbed off on her skin. She cupped the flowers and brought them to her nose for a whiff, exhaling in soft delight at the wonderful smell. She ignored the renewed churning in her stomach in favor of her gift's loveliness, of the equally lovely heart that thought enough of her to bring them. "You remembered? That morning after our first kiss...That was a good three, almost four _years_ ago."

Sam tapped his temple with a proud smile. "Steel trap, remember? I know sometimes you don't think I pay attention as much as I should, but I do hear the important things." Sam knelt on one knee in front of her, reaching for her hand to lace their fingers together. Mercedes watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard, clearly grappling with something weighing heavily on his mind, before he pressed a kiss to her knuckle. "I'm so sorry about dinner this week, babe. Bree shouldn't have been here without you knowing about it and...I just really messed up. I promised you that I'd be more honest and I ended up lying to you even more. I don't want you to hold that against me."

"Oh, Sam." Mercedes set the flowers on the bed and pulled him closer. He crawled over until she could lean down and brush her lips across his in the softest of kisses, whispering, "It's in the past. I'm not mad."

"You sure?" Sam worriedly asked, searching her eyes for truth. "Because you're really good at holding secret grudges and I'm terrible at figuring them out."

She snorted a laugh, making him smile. "No more secret grudges." She swore, resting her forehead against his as she shook her head. "Do you forgive me for acting out and embarrassing you in front of Bree and Connor? Having conversations about my feelings still isn't my strong suit. "

"Yeah, I forgive you," he warmly replied, closing his eyes to revel in the slow caresses of her lips against his. "I hate fighting with my best friend."

"Me too," Mercedes said solemnly, pressing the side of her nose to his as her own eyes fell shut, just before cupping both of his cheeks and slipping her tongue in his mouth. Sam eagerly responded, tilting his head up from his lower angle to offer an equally explorative tongue. The kiss of promises ended as swiftly as it had begun, just before the heat pooling in the bellies had the opportunity to spread elsewhere. They breathlessly parted, chests heaving, and locked eyes.

"I love you, Sammy." The tears that had threatened to fall earlier spilled freely then, rolling slowly down her cheeks.

"I love you more, Mercedes," he echoed, in a voice broken by dozens of wonderful emotions. Sam reached for her waist with shaky hands and held, bunching handfuls of her nightshirt in his grasp until it rose past her thighs. She understood, parting her knees wide enough for his body to rest fully between them, and pressed his head to her chest, ear resting just over her heart. When Mercedes still didn't feel close enough, she buried her face in his silken hair, until shampoo and sweat and the musky scent of him was all she could smell in the fragrant room.

The two who had lost much always felt the need to have moments of clinging tightly to one another, if only to reassure themselves that the moment was real, that the person in front of them declaring their love would not disappear like an apparition.

When the couple released one another, they took a breath to allow the moment its time to pass, resuming normal conversation as the heaviness faded away into memory. "This reminds me, we really need to start talking wedding details. Your mom's been bugging me for days about it." Mercedes started as Sam rose to his feet. "She says if we don't make final decisions soon, we're gonna end up eloping in Vegas, and she'll have to fly up here and murder us both."

"Mercy, it's _our _wedding. Tell mom that we're gonna be the ones planning it, not her. We'll make the decisions when we're ready." Sam gave his fiancée one final peck on the forehead before sauntering to the bathroom, searching the counter for his toothbrush. "Um...Mercy?"

"It's in the medicine cabinet. I put it away when I was cleaning." Sam nodded and took his toothbrush from the bottom shelf, along with the nearly empty tube of toothpaste. Before he could ask, Mercedes added, "The new tube is on the second shelf. Finish that one first, though."

"Aw, is this that herbal one that smells like icy hot and tastes like childhood nightmares? Mercedes, I can't use this!" Sam exclaimed with wide eyes, flopping the near empty tube around a good distance away from his body.

Mercedes's eyes rolled to the heavens at her fiancee's dramatics. "I threw that one away yesterday, at your _humble_ request. Read the label. I found it out of its place on the shower caddy."

Sam frowned and brought the tube close to his face, squinting unnecessarily as he read the large, white lettering. "Oh, it's Colgate... Never mind! False alarm!" His thumb jutted out through the doorway, signaling his approval.

"The real question is why it was in the shower caddy in the first place." Mercedes shot a look of judgment in his direction, even though she knew Sam couldn't see it. "Why you insist on brushing your teeth in the shower is beyond me."

"But why waste the water?"

"Really Sam? It's the same water! There is absolutely no reason why we should have dried up toothpaste stains in our bathtub. None at all." Mercedes insisted, more disbelieving than actually angry. Little arguments like this happened far too frequently for either of them to take it seriously anymore. "I fell in love with a child. This might be an actual felony. Arrest me for statutory."

"Ask me on Monday, when I can actually use our handcuffs." Sam shrugged and squeezed the smaller tube dry, humming in surprise when the remaining toothpaste adequately filled his brush. "Anyway, back to my mom. Mercy, you know how she is. She can be a control freak when it comes to these things," he warned Mercedes as he wet his brush, running it under strictly cold water. Sensitive teeth be damned. "I just want the ceremony to look like something we would put together. You know, to reflect our tastes. I'll be damned if I walk down an aisle covered in lace doilies and crap."

"Give your mom more credit, Sam. She has better taste and better sense than that. All she wants is to be included in the wedding. This is a big deal for her, too. Her oldest is getting married and starting his own family." Mercedes reminded him, unconsciously circling her belly button. "Plus, she and my mom put together this book of their ideas and I really like some of them. One plan even has the lavender and yellow theme we talked about."

She heard Sam gargle and spit, then followed him with her eyes as he moved to dry his face with a towel dangling from the bathroom door's edge. As much as she tried to break him of the habit, Sam refused to use the designated towel rack. Some days, Mercedes was convinced she was engaged to a rebellious four year old.

"Do any of the ideas have stripes? Or stars? Maybe some red, white and blue?" Mercedes rolled her eyes at his impish grin, refusing to entertain the suggestion.

"Sam, for the last time, no Captain America. He's forbidden from entering our wedding," she deadpanned, poking his chest with a stern finger as he drew closer.

Sam pointed a finger of his own at her chest, tapping the space between her breasts. "Says my fiancée as she sleeps in one of my favorite Captain America t-shirts."

Mercedes sucked her teeth and pouted her lips, lightly shoving him away. "It's comfortable and smells like you. I couldn't fall asleep." She bashfully explained, tugging at the masked face plastered on the center of her sleepwear. "Besides, wearing his merchandise and including him in our union are two completely different things. Superheroes belong on mugs and movies, not in sacred ceremonies."

Sam threw himself on the bed with a long-suffering sigh, squinting sternly at her dismissal.

"Now who's the meanie? It's my wedding too, y'know."

She had an argument ready, just on the tip of her tongue, as usual. But then Sam had the nerve to arch up, jutting his chest to the sky to stretch out the kinks in his back. The sight distracted her. Her man looked far too enticing, shirtless and lying on his back with all that firm muscle on display. When he folded his arms behind his head, his stomach sunk in slightly, forming a concave groove of supple pale skin that Mercedes wanted to lap melting ice cubes from over and over again. _Damn you, hormones._

Sam watched her eyes darken and glaze over as her gaze raked across his body, settling on the rounded bulge causing a slight protrusion in his boxers. Amused and equally as sexually frustrated, Sam thrust his hips in the air, surprising her out of her trance. His eyebrow rose and arched knowingly.

"Maybe I could persuade you to change your mind?" He purred, suggestively walking his fingers along her thighs. Mercedes only guffawed in response, downplaying the sinfully delicious effect his offer had on her body.

"You wish! I have way more willpower than that." To prove her point, she crawled over and straddled his hips, sliding forward on her hands until her chest was pressed fully against his. Sam reached down to push her nightshirt to her waist and cup her ass, spreading his fingers wide enough to cup each exposed cheek as best as he could and give them an effective giggle. Mercedes sighed in feigned disinterest, propping her chin between his collarbones.

"Gotta do better than that, Evans." She responded in a bored tone, lazily flopping her head side to side. "Especially after what you did this morning."

"And what _exactly _did I do this morning?" asked Sam, genuinely curious. "I didn't even really see you."

"Exactly." Mercedes tugged his chin down, bringing his face to her eye level. "You didn't snuggle with me or say I love you, _barely _even kissed me." She counted off his relational crimes on her fingers. "And you didn't grope me or compliment my ass _once_. I usually get five lewd and inappropriate comments about the glory of my behind before I start my day. I believe you owe me."

Sam chuckled at the sense of entitlement in her tone. "Do I? Well forgive me, milady. I didn't realize my attempts at copping a feel were so revered."

"Yeah, well..." Mercedes shrugged and pressed a quick kiss to his chin. "Now you know. Get to massaging and complimenting pronto or I'm finna divorcing you."

"You _finna_? Well, lordy me." Sam replied, slipping into his own southern drawl. "Didn't even set one foot back in Ohio yet, and already pulling out the _finna _on me. You know, some days I forget I'm marrying a southern girl. Mama would be so proud."

"Mama _is _so proud, Sam," Mercedes noted with a chuckle. "If we didn't get engaged, I'm pretty sure Mama Vic would adopt me. I reckon I'm the favorite Evans now, babe. You jealous? "

"Nope, not at all. More turned on than anything else. God, I love when your little accent comes out." Sam confessed, emphasized with a light shudder and groan. "Just say finna or reckon one more time, for me."

Mercedes snorted a laugh and swatted his chest, covering her eyes in embarrassment. "Sam, it is way too early in the morning to be this silly."

"C'mon! Just one time. It's a better wake-up than caffeine in my system. Screw Folgers."

Mercedes playfully wrinkled her nose at his argument. "Well, If you give me what you owe me, you won't have to screw Folgers." She joked, intentionally misinterpreting him. Pushing forward slightly on her knees, Mercedes slid her body up above him until they were face to face, her lips hovering above his. Brown eyes sparkled in mirth, and a purposeful swish of her neck tossed her hair over one shoulder, tickling Sam's cheek with its softness. "Like I said, you owe me some pretty words about my ass, or I _reckon _I'm _finna _divorce you come morning. You got that, Evans?"

A grazing of a kiss teased his lips as she slid back down, punctuated by an equally teasing wink as she settled back on his chest and waited for his reply. Sam grinned down at her and obliged, kneading the soft flesh as he spoke. "Well, did I ever tell you that your ass is the most glorious one I've ever seen?"

"Mhmm." Mercedes hummed, both in acknowledgement and in pleasure from his touch. "Keep talking," she commanded, resting her cheek on his firm pectoral.

"I mean seriously, it's the gold standard. So soft and round and thick...every reason God invented caressing. I just want to touch it all day." He groaned when her hips unconsciously began to move, grinding her underwear-clad center against his penis. "And kiss it and lick it until you wiggle and smile. Sometimes, when you just come out of the shower and you bend over to lotion your legs, I daydream about parting these cheeks," Sam demonstrated by reaching down to spread her thighs, purposely brushing his fingers across her clit as his hands descended inward to hold them apart, "and eating your ass out until you cum. Would you like that?"

"Oh, _god_." From the lusty growl in her voice, Sam knew he was encroaching dangerous territory. They still had to survive tomorrow and the weekend before their sex ban was officially over. But he missed her sweet-smelling abundance wrapped around him far too much to give a damn at the moment.

"You'd like that, baby?" he purred, kissing the top of her head as he guided the motions of her hips with his hands. "You like thinking about me burying my face between your legs and eating that tight little asshole out, huh?"

Mercedes whimpered and nodded, pressing down harder against him. "But Sam, I'm on my period. And Dr. Warner gave us until Monday." She reminded him as she sat up, though her hips continued to draw tight circles against his length after he released her. "We can't toy with each other like this. Don't play with me."

"You _don__'__t_ want me to play with you?" She released a frustrated whimper when Sam thrust up. "I thought that was your favorite part."

"Samuel fucking Evans, if you don't quit, so help me—"

"Okay, okay. I'll stop," he conceded with a laugh, holding up his hands. "But you," he reached out to still her gyrating hips, "have to stop too. Or else this will get super messy for both of us, if you catch my drift."

"Oh. Right." The thought of menstrual blood and semen staining their underwear was enough to flip the switch on Mercedes' libido. "Ugh, that's just...Ugh! _Hell_to the no." She grimaced, nose wrinkling in distaste as she slid off of his lap. "That's too gross to even think about."

"I know, right?" Sam grimaced from the image as well, reaching down to re-adjust his rapidly softening erection as he sat up straight. "Talk about an effective mood-killer."

"Our therapist would be _so_ proud." Mercedes noted sardonically. "We're communicating better with our _words_." 

"Yeah, I guess we are." Sam stared down at his lap, scratching the back of his neck in thought. The same pensive expression from earlier had returned, contorting his angular features even more than it did before. Mercedes caught on to the shift in mood right away, immediately concerned. "Sam? What is it? What's wrong?"

"I quit the music industry today." A long beat of silence followed as she took in his words and processed them. "Yosemite Sam is officially dead."

"Did something happen? Are you okay?" Mercedes inquired, concerned with his well-being above all things.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I mean, physically I was okay, but not mentally, you know?" She nodded supportively, even though the news still confused her. "I've been thinking about leaving for a while now, but didn't know what else I'd do for work. It wasn't until I talked with Bree that—"

"Wait, Bree knew about this?" Mercedes asked, tone somewhere between hurt and shocked as her breathing picked up and grew slightly harsher than before. Jealously seemed to be a second nature reaction where the blonde woman was concerned. Just one misplaced mention of her name caused her chest to tighten, constricting her heart until it was forced to beat three times faster than normal.

"It's not what you're thinking. We were having a conversation about work and I told her about how unhappy I was being a performer. She didn't know I was thinking about quitting." Sam quickly clarified, vindicating himself and Bree from any more of Mercedes's wrath. "She helped me realize that art is where my passion truly lies, not music. My heart wasn't in it when I sang anymore. Plus, I didn't feel like Faith's group really needed me. On good days, I was just pretty window dressing with a guitar. They don't treat me like I have anything to give."

"Why didn't you talk to me?" frowned Mercedes, visibly wounded. "Why didn't you tell me that you were so unhappy?"

Sam's responding smile held nothing but self-depreciation. "You're not the only one who's afraid of being left behind, Mercy." He answered. "I knew how much it meant to you to see me sing, to know that we had steady money coming in. I didn't want you to worry or think that I wouldn't be able to provide for us. Plus, when you and Dr. Warner pointed out that I wasn't eating like I should and seemed over obsessed about my weight, I panicked. I didn't want to be your burden. I couldn't be damaged goods, especially when you're already going through so much. I just wanted you to always look at me with pride in your eyes, like I was something special, something worth keeping around."

"Sammy..." cooed Mercedes, tenderly brushing the bend of her finger across his ruddy cheeks. "You will always be something special to me. Don't you know that? You don't need to be famous or have tons of money for me to want to keep you. I just want us to be happy together." Mercedes told him. "Believe me?"

Sam's nod was too slow and careful to pass as convincing. "Okay, lie down on the pillows for me. You and I are going to have a little talk, Yosemite."

Sam shrugged a non-committal shoulder, but decided to obey, lying down on Mercedes's side of the bed. Her body heat lingered in the cotton sheets, warming his bare back. Coupled with the familiar aromas of his childhood wafting through the air, Sam felt the earlier tension in his body ease away. Mercedes straddled his lap once more with a comforting smile, plucking a rose from the bouquet beside them to brush the soft petals along his sharper, angular features. She started with a smooth swiping motion down the bridge of his nose, making his face twitch and wiggle from the tickling sensations.

"What's my favorite part of you, Sam?"

His eyebrows rose when she dragged the soft petals along his jaw, then down the center of his chest, tracing the contouring of his right pectoral until his nipple hardened. "Wait, is this one of those trick sex questions? Are you playing with me? I thought we weren't supposed to do that until Monday," Sam innocently asked, adding a bit hopefully, "But if we are doing that, can I go and get the silk scarves really quick? Because if this is going where I think this is going, then someone's getting tied up, and I'm kinda hoping it's me."

"Don't tempt me, babe," Mercedes growled, lightly swatting him with her flower. "I'm horny as hell, but today's one of the few days I can't let you do anything about it." Her hips shifted slightly as her free hand caressed his arm, squeezing the toned muscle there. "Shame, too. Because God, the way I'm feeling now?" Her throaty hum was all sex and wanton desires. "I could ride you until you pass out."

Sam's face visibly flushed as his breathing grew labored. "Fuck." He slid his hands along her thighs, following their rounded curves until he could squeeze the pudgier flesh closer to her center. "I can think of three different ways to make that happen without getting us in trouble with Dr. Warner."

Mercedes licked her lips and took her hands in his, sliding them along her hips and waist with a pleasurable groan. She guided his touches to her breasts, cupping their underside and squeezing the weight of them until she clenched involuntarily, then quickly shoved his hands away, banishing them back to rest on the bed. "Seriously, _don__'__t _tempt me. We're being good, remember?" Moments like these made her extremely grateful for tampons and discrete panty liners. Her pads would've impeded the delicious friction of his soft bulge against her achingly swollen clit. Having an increased sex drive during your period was the worst curse imaginable. _Damn you, Eve. _

"But I thought I _was_ being good." His cocky smirk and wiggling eyebrows made her laugh.

"Just answer my question, Sam. And no, it's not some sex trick," Mercedes clarified, rolling her eyes at his persistently narrow train of thought. "What did I tell you was my favorite part of you?"

"My heart." It was one of the few conversations he remembered from their drunken night of passion, one that stuck with him long after the buzz of wine turned into a nightmare of a hangover. The rest of the evening, unfortunately, was a haze of tangled bodies and strewn clothes. He couldn't piece together any of the details. "You said your favorite part of me was my heart."

"Mhmm." She nodded with a pleased smile, twirling the flower stem between her fingers before brushing the petals along the shell of his ears. "Do you know why I chose your heart, out of everything else I find wonderful about you?"

Sam shook his head, then closed his eyes and hummed contentedly when the soft petals dusted his lips.

"It's because, despite our many differences, your heart is one of the few things that is a perfect match to mine," Mercedes answered, twirling the flower over the space in his chest housing the muscle. "The way you love, how you let others in without question, even after they've hurt you, is one of the most beautiful things about you. You and I, we feel a lot of the same things. It's one of the reasons I felt okay about telling you that I was a virgin. It was why I gave myself permission to kiss you and let you in, in ways I've never let anyone else in before. I looked into your eyes and saw everything you were thinking and feeling. I knew that you wanted the same thing I did." Sam delighted in the sweeping of feathery petals across his eyelids. "You wanted someone to love you for _you_, not just what you could give them. You were looking for a heart like yours. Like mine."

Mercedes chose that moment to lean down and surprise him with a kiss, while his eyes remained closed and his face was still relaxed. Lips brushed across lips in petal-soft caresses.

"Don't you ever worry about me leaving you because you're not working the job I want you to work. I love you for you, Sam. All I want is your happiness." She tapped the tip of her nose against his until he opened his eyes once more. "Do you believe me?"

Sam swallowed and nodded, overwhelmed by her close proximity, by the way she could overwhelm him and ease him all at once.

"I'm staying with you as long as you'll have me, for better or worse and in sickness and health. Alright?" Mercedes smiled, pushing back his bangs to reveal all of his handsome face. She tilted her head slightly, admiring him for a moment, before adding, "You're everything I never pictured, but always searched for. The lavender in my yellow roses."

Sam grinned at that, bopping her nose. "The light to my darkness." he replied, "_Mi Luz_."

Mercedes pressed her curled lips to his mouth, smiling shyly at the beauty of his Spanish compliment. "_Usted es todo, Oscuro__,_" she softly whispered, gazing lovingly into his eyes. "_Todo mi Corazon_." Mercedes pressed another sweet kiss to his lips, fingers tangling in hair as he tilted his chin upward to deepen it.

After countless precious moments, the couple parted with reluctant sighs, resting their foreheads together as the bliss of their shared love washed over them. Mercedes nibbled the corner of her mouth, and after a moment of careful consideration, dared to press a tongue-laden kiss to the sensitive place behind Sam's ear, rubbing slow circles across her fiance's exposed chest until his fingernails dug into the fleshy rolls of her back.

"Mercedes..." Sam breathed out longingly, torn between reminding her of all the reasons they needed to stop and grabbing her ass to press her center harder against his.

Two weeks of unfulfilling efforts to self-please made the decision for him.

She groaned when he squeezed her behind and began to grind, responding with a thrust of her own as she whispered her approvals between kisses down his neck.

"After we had our first kiss? When I told you about my past and my family? That was the first time I ever stripped for you." Sam hissed and groaned when teeth sunk into his jugular. Lips and tongue made eager work of bathing the wound before Mercedes moved on to the next patch of skin, doing much of the same territorial damage. "You saw me completely naked that day, baby. Right then I knew, sometime in the near future, you would be the first one to ever touch me underneath my clothes." She moaned as she gave his third hickey a smacking kiss, making a show of her affections. "And I was right. I've been spread open and naked with you every day since then."

"Gotdamn Mercedes, just fuck me already." Her thumb lazily circled his unattended nipple until it rose and hardened. A searing heat scorched his back. "My skin is burning, baby."

"Mine too, Sam. Mine too." she replied with a soft chuckle, doting on the salted skin near his clavicle with sure, firm flicks of her tongue. "I'm on fire, baby. Touch me."

Sam eagerly complied, reaching underneath her shirt to tug and roll her nipple around. But suddenly, the heat on his back became nearly unbearable, making him groan in pain. "No wait. Stop, stop." Sam's pained cries made Mercedes stop immediately. She grew concerned when Sam gingerly touched the afflicted area and sharply arched, hissing and groaning in pain once more.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Sam felt around on the bed underneath him until his fingers grazed a thick, rubber cord, leading off the side of the mattress to the outlet behind the night table. Mercedes climbed off of him when his tugging proved fruitless, kneeling on his opposite side to guide him by the shoulders into an upright position, hoping to find the source of his discomfort herself. When she saw the large, perfectly rectangular bruise welting across his lower back, Mercedes cringed, realizing his pain was her fault.

"Oh shoot, I forgot that was still plugged in..."

"What the hell is this?" Sam finally yanked the rectangular object free, dangling it between them as he analyzed it in confusion. "This is yours?"

"It's my heating pad," she sheepishly confessed, snatching it out of his hands to turn it off. "I was using it earlier."

"To do what?" Sam's eyes skated over her body like he was expecting something alien to pop out of her any minute. "And why the hell is it hot enough to melt my skin off?"

"It's for my cramps." Mercedes tersely defended, tossing it to the floor. "The heat helps to ease the pain. Just shut up and be glad you don't have eggs, Mister. They're nothing but trouble."

"If I did, I don't think that I would hate them enough to hard boil them!" Sam exclaimed, gingerly touching his afflicted skin with a grimace. "Look, whatever you need to feel better is fine with me. Just, can you warn me before you summon all of hell's heat and put it in our bed?"

"Sam, honestly. Shut up." Mercedes whacked him across the head with a pillow. "You're so dramatic for no reason."

"Excuse me? Dramatic?" Sam snatched a pillow from behind him and whacked her shoulder. "Them's fightin' words, ma'am."

"Ow! Hey! Sam, you can't hit a woman in pain!" Mercedes poked out her bottom lip as she massaged her shoulder, wiggling her chin to feign a quiver. "Remember, I'm hurting."

"Aw, that's just unfair." Sam complained, jabbing her pout back in with his finger. "Put that thing away, Mercy. You know I hate that face."

His future wife's bottom lip only poked out further, trembling alongside her chin. "Alright, I'll stop already. Just lay down and I'll get your heating pad thingy so you can put it back...wherever it is you put it, okay? Truce?"

Mercedes smirked victoriously, wriggling her body down until her head settled into the pillows. "Thank you, baby. I love you."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam grumbled, smirking as he wound the cord around his fist and reeled in the heating pad from off the floor. He dropped the pad unceremoniously on her stomach, unaware that he'd placed it in the right spot. "Here. Gotta keep Satan's fetus in its natural habitat."

"A period is not Satan's fetus, Sam!" laughed Mercedes, slapping his stomach with the back of her hand. "Just be quiet and get down here, silly. You owe me cuddles."

Cuddles were a debt Sam delighted in repaying. Mercedes repositioned her heat source as Sam settled in beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to usher the front of her body to his. After placing a pillow between them (both to keep her heating pad in place and prevent any more restricted sexy times from happening), Mercedes hugged his waist and pressed her face against the side of his neck, inhaling deeply.

"Are you sniffing me?" Sam asked with a chuckle, tilting his head to scrunch his nose at her. "I didn't even shower. I probably smell awful."

"No, you don't." Mercedes grew solemn, thumb bristling the short stubble over his cheeks. "You smell just fine. You smell perfect."

It was her tone—the meekness and lack of levity in an otherwise flattering comment—that alerted Sam to trouble. "Uh oh, what aren't you telling me? You sound all serious all of a sudden."

There were millions of things she wasn't telling him: how much her body was killing her right now, how she'd frighteningly soaked through two pads in less than an hour before he'd come home, the used pregnancy test tossed and tied away in the garbage bag by the door that held a faint but readable plus sign she couldn't ignore.

The things she wasn't telling him were infinite.

Mercedes wanted to comfort him, to ease the concern swimming in his eyes with the truth, but had no clue how. The words were there, clear as day, but she couldn't find a way to get them out of her mouth. The words _I think I__'__m pregnant_ lodged itself in her throat, knotted and ensnared in fears of owning her new reality. Because the truth was, as much as she valued honesty, she valued her sanity even more. If she spoke it aloud, it meant it was true.

That had been the story of her life so far. She didn't officially end things with Shane until the moment he confronted her in the hallway, though her secret affair with Sam had clearly stated that things had ended as soon as they begun. Donovan's assault hadn't been real until the moment she confessed it to Bee in the hallway; shakily, but brimming with confidence. Her heart, as willing as it was, didn't accept Sam as her boyfriend and a permanent person in her life until she overcame her pride and asked him to stay.

And when he stayed, Mercedes realized that him being there meant everything.

She couldn't sacrifice the peace they'd finally earned over two unclear intersecting pink lines on a plastic stick. It wasn't right. Sam didn't deserve anymore chaos, especially when it wasn't sure. Neither did she.

"Sam, I haven't been completely honest with you," she started, and the way his body immediately tensed up only justified her decision. "I've still been feeling really off lately, even worse than I've let on. I didn't want to tell you because I was still terrified of going to the hospital. But I've been thinking it over lately and decided to see my family doctor about it when we go back to Lima. I've called to book an appointment already. I figured, maybe because I know him and he knows me, it won't be so frightening. Maybe he'll be able to figure out what's going on with me even sooner."

"Mercedes, that's great! I've been dying for you to get yourself checked out. Why were you afraid to tell me that?"

"Not afraid, just..." She shrugged her shoulders, "Hesitant, I guess? I think I'm gonna get bad news."

Most of what she told him was true. She had called her family doctor in a panic, leaving a trembling voiced message on his private line about her heavy bleeding and tests results. He returned her call around one in the morning, in true small-town doctor fashion, and scheduled to meet with her on Sunday morning, mere hours before she was scheduled to return to LA. It would give Mercedes enough time to deal with her family drama and regroup before tackling any potential problems with her body. Plus, Sam would be with her when she heard the news. They could handle it the way Mercedes preferred to, in private and as a couple.

"Oh babe, don't worry. I'm sure you're fine. It's probably something really minor." Sam comforted, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Besides, I'll be with you. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it together, okay? Just like my job with Faith and the whole Donovan fiasco and everything. We'll do this together."

His response was _exactly _what Mercedes was banking on. Though he didn't know all of the details, he was still willing to stick by her side and handle the worst with her, holding her hand through it all. If her smile alone was the sun, then Sam wielded the power to create entire solar systems within her, just by being his wonderful self.

Sadly, he didn't know that he was engaged to a woman with a fondness for running away when faced head-on with change. Good or bad, she always ran, straight back into the familiar loneliness she'd grown accustomed to.

Mercedes warred within herself every day to make sure that Sam remained the exception.

"Yeah. Together," she promised with a smile, praying in her heart that this weekend—and all the change it might bring—wouldn't spark that telling pulsation in her calf muscles, the tingling in her legs that begged her to sprint.

_Plant your feet, Mercedes. No matter how scary it gets..._

"Hey," His gentle tap to her nose brought her back to present. "Come to the art studio with me tomorrow. I have some things to take care of before our flight and I want to show you something. It'll make you feel better."

"Yeah?" Mercedes chuckled, finding the notion hard to believe. Unless the art studio could fix her body, find Sam a job he was happy with, and somehow magically repair her relationship with her dad, her happiness couldn't be found there. Still, she appreciated Sam's pointless attempts to cheer her up. "Okay. You still owe me a pottery class. Don't think I forgot, mister. I'm coming through to collect."

His laugh was infectiously joyful. Just hearing it made her burdens more bearable. "Okay, deal. Pottery class it is, Jones."

Mercedes wrapped her legs around him and curled into his side as best as she could with the pillow between them, burying her face deeper in the space between his neck and shoulder. "It's Evans, actually."

Sam nuzzled the top of her head and contentedly sighed, sliding his leg between hers to entangle them. "Yeah, I know. I just like hearing you correct me." He confessed, kissing her forehead. After a moment, Mercedes expectantly glanced up at Sam, clearly waiting for him to do something. "What?"

"One more." She stated plainly, wearing the cutest frown as she tapped the spot he'd kissed. "You always give me two before we go to sleep."

Sam adored this side of her, so open and eager for affection. He gladly granted her request, kissing her three times more than she'd asked for. "Goodnight Mrs. Evans." He reached between them to tap the heating pad pressed against her belly, yawning and shutting his eyes as he finished, "Goodnight lil' heating pad baby."

He heard his fiancée snort, then felt her finger poke his arm. "You are _so _brand new, I swear."

**O-O**

Mercedes had hoped that sleep would give her clarity; that come morning, after a few hours of rest to recuperate, she'd be able to find some answers. Daylight, unfortunately, only welcomed more questions.

"Hey, you alright? You've been silent the entire drive."

Their car ride to the art studio had been filled to the brim with her weighted silence. Mercedes studied the passing scenery outside the passenger window so hard that Sam could practically see clouds of smoke shooting from her ears.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She lied, with the sweetest smile and nod. "Just thinking."

"Yeah, I kinda got that." Joked Sam, taking her free hand in his, knitting their fingers together. It was always easier for her to express her feelings when they were physically connected somehow. "Mind sharing with the rest of us dwelling outside of your brain?"

"I don't want to go back home this weekend." Mercedes blurted out, squeezing his hand. "I know Nettie practically insisted on it, but I don't think I can face my father right now. Plus, Ohio has too many...bad memories for us. We're finally getting somewhere good, Sam. I don't want us to start moving backward."

"Baby, that won't happen." Sam assured, turning his eyes away from the road for a brief second to meet her worried gaze. "_We're _gonna face your dad together, okay? And if all that happened back in Ohio taught us anything, it's that we're so much stronger when we're unified. If anything, all that's gonna happen will make us stronger. Your grandmother wants to see you for Christmas. Give her that, Mercy. Life is too short to sacrifice the good moments because you're terrified of the bad ones."

"But what if the bad moments are guaranteed?" she meekly asked, right hand balled into a fist as it drifted across her lap to rest against her belly. "What if I know things are gonna turn out badly? Do we still go and just brace ourselves until the worst is over?"

"We hope for the best and prepare for the worst, like we always do." Sam replied, glancing at her forlorn expression. With a sigh, he pulled up to a parking space in front of the art studio, backing in and shifting into park before he turned to face her. "Look at me, Mercedes."

When she did, her jaw was tense and trembling, and a lone tear rolled down the side of her face. "You know what your father told me once? Before he started acting like a douche and gave good advice?"

The comment made Mercedes smile a little. "What?"

"He told me that sometimes, when life gets really hard, you have to believe in the potential for success to get through it. We have to believe that God is in control, not us. Whatever happens is his will and we have to be willing and ready to accept it."

Mercedes sniffled and nodded. "That does sound like something my dad would say."

"Well, some of that was me, so he gets partial credit," smiled Sam, using his thumb to wipe her cheek dry. He cupped her face and kept her focus forward, directly on him. "Look, if you're that worried about it, what if we planned an out strategy?"

"An out strategy? What do you mean?"

"Like when we use the safe word when things get uncomfortable. What if you use it if things get too overwhelming? That way, I'll know when it's getting too much for you to handle and I can make up a reason for us to leave early," suggested Sam. "Would you like that?"

"You would do that?" Mercedes whispered, tears falling anew from his loving concern. "But Sam, this was supposed to be Christmas for you too. I mean, this trip is the reason why you can't celebrate with Stevie and Stacie this year. I know how much that meant to you. I don't want you to feel forced to leave because I don't want to stay."

"Mercedes, how many different ways can I express that you're my only priority before you get it in your head?" Sam insisted. "If you're uncomfortable, then I'm uncomfortable. I'm not gonna have any fun, whether I'm celebrating in Kentucky or Ohio, if I know that you're unhappy." He took Mercedes's hands, locking their fingers. "Christmas is about family and being grateful. You're gonna be my wife, Mercy. _You're _my family now. And someday, we're gonna have kids and make that family even bigger."

Mercedes glanced down briefly at her stomach before nodding, subtly shifting in her seat. "That's true."

"So we have to start acting like a family now. Stevie and Stacie are so important to me, but they're not mine. They're mom and dad's responsibility. You're mine."

Mercedes leaned forward and rested her forehead against his, taking a deep breath. "And you're mine, Sam." She replied, sad eyes roaming across his face. "That goes both ways, you know. I don't want you to always feel like you have to put yourself second for me. I'm here to put you first, too."

Sam nodded and swallowed hard, feeling the tears well up and tighten his throat. "I know. I don't think I've ever had that." He laughed softly, gently squeezing her fingers. "And it just makes me want to do more, be more of the man you need. I love _so _hard, Mercedes. You know that." He emphatically expressed, shaking his head from the weight of the understatement. Some days, Sam felt his love for others overwhelm him, to the point where he couldn't find himself amongst it any more. "And with you, I finally found someone who loves me back equally as hard, sometimes even more than I love myself."

"I enjoy doing that, baby. You know that," Mercedes cooed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Loving you is so easy for me."

Sam smirked and squeezed her hands once more. "Thank you." He whispered, utterly grateful for the sentiment. "And that's why I want to protect this so much. I don't care about celebrating Christmas more than I care about protecting what we have."

Mercedes wanted to continue her protests, to tell Sam that he shouldn't go out of his way for a woman who constantly thought about herself and her own needs, but his offer was too enticing to pass up. "Okay. I'll say the safe word if I'm not comfortable, then we'll leave."

"And no grinning and bearing it just because of me, okay?"

"I promise." Mercedes agreed with a tender smile. "Thank you so much. I feel a lot better now."

"Good. That was kind of the goal here." Grinning, Sam released her hands and pulled her into a hug, resting his chin atop her head as he squeezed her tight. Mercedes pressed her face into his neck, reveling in the warmth there, in the spiced notes of cologne she inhaled that made the panic disappear. "Daily reminder that I love you, Mercedes."

Mercedes chuckled and pulled back, brushing her nose across his with a contented sigh. "Daily reminder that I love you, Sam." She echoed, sealing the declaration with soft kisses to his lips. "So very much."

Sam hummed and tightened his embrace, initiating soft kisses of his own until Mercedes tilted her head and parted her lips, guiding his tongue into her mouth with her own. Sam's hands drifted up along her sides and across her shoulders to cup her neck, keeping her jaw tilted up with pressure from his thumbs as he leaned over toward the passenger's side. Mercedes moaned and rested the back her head against the cool glass, grinning when Sam practically crawled over the arm rest to rest his body atop hers.

"Sam, we're parked on the street," Mercedes giggled between kisses, "Anyone can see us."

"Well, maybe I want them to see." Sam teasingly murmured against her lips, hands slowly creeping down her chest to unbutton her shirt. "Besides, there's this little fantasy I have about you and me in the backseat with the windows rolled down..."

"That will have to wait until Monday, when I can _possibly _consider it." Mercedes reminded him, pushing away his groping hands to re-button her blouse. "Plus, I'm pretty sure we'd get arrested for indecent exposure."

"Police knockin' on our door is part of the fun!" Sam declared with a wicked smirk. Mercedes rolled her eyes and shot him a look. "Okay, fine. We're nixing the backseat idea." Sam dramatically sighed, easing himself off of his fiancee to allow her to readjust her clothes. "For now."

"_Forever_, Sam." It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes and shoot her a look for the unreasonable protest. They both knew that the idea had, at the very least, intrigued her. "Okay, for now."

"C'mon, let's head inside. Connor's dying to see you again." When Mercedes faced forward to unbuckle her seatbelt, Sam's eyes zeroed in on her chest, awed at their size in profile. "Um, Mercedes?"

"Yeah?" She already had her door open and a foot partially out of the car. His unwavering gaze on her breasts took her aback. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Your boobs are humongous." Sam stated without filter, eyes wide and curious. "They like grew overnight. I don't know why I didn't notice it before."

"Oh, I..." Mercedes crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously. "It's probably all the water I'm retaining."

"I don't remember that happening before." Sam frowned, staring hard until he noticed Mercedes's uneasy fidgeting. "But I'm not complaining or anything! You know you're always beautiful to me and I'm totally a boobs guy anyway." He hurriedly explained, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm just surprised I didn't spot the difference sooner."

"Well, you were preoccupied. With work and everything." Mercedes shrugged with a careful smile, hoping to change the subject. "You ready to go?

"Yeah." His tone seemed distant until his gaze finally flittered away from her chest and met hers. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's head up."

Mercedes watched him hop out of the car and slam his door closed with a frown, then glanced down at her chest and cupped her breasts in her hands, gauging their weight. They certainly felt heavier, but she had no idea that they appeared bigger than normal. Did everyone notice it? Would her mother? Her grandmother?

"Baby, you alright?" Her head snapped around to Sam's concerned face, resting against the open car door as he waited for her. "That's the third time I've lost you to your head space since yesterday. That's not like you."

"Sorry! I swear I'm fine. I was still thinking about Christmas at Nettie's, that's all. Just processing. " She lied, hurriedly snatching her hands away from her chest. Her hands chose to curl and rest against her belly, and when she realized where they'd fallen, she hurriedly balled them tight and shoved them under her thighs. "I'm good now! I'm fine. Promise."

Sam quirked his brow, unconvinced, but decided to let the issue slide for now. He could only handle one heavy conversation per day. "Bree has to buzz us into the building, so c'mon." He stretched out his hand to gently tug her wrist, freeing her hand from underneath her thigh. "And remember, all you have to do is say home and we're on the first flight back to LA. Alright? Don't kill yourself over it, Mercy. You're just fine."

Mercedes meekly nodded and took his hand in hers, following a step or two behind him. Sam completely missed the way her free hand palmed and clutched her belly, coupled with the anxious, hurried gnawing of her lower lip that spoke volumes about how far away his love was from being _fine_.

**O-O**

Bree buzzed the couple in after a quick exchange of welcoming greetings. The elevator in the lobby took them to the small art studio on the top floor, and when the sliding door to the loft finally opened, Sam and Mercedes were greeted with the sight of an adorable chiclet smile and a mop of brown hair covered in tiny blotches of green paint.

"Hi, Ms. Mercedes!" Connor greeted, running toward her until he barreled into her legs. Mercedes instinctively pressed a hand to his back as she grabbed Sam's shoulder for balance, but the young boy wrapped his limbs around her waist and knees before he could fall from the impact. "You came to see me! I opened the door two times for you now!"

"Yes, I did! And yes, _you_ did!" beamed Mercedes, ruffling his hair. "But this time you're covered in paint! What were you doing?"

"C'mon, I'll show you! It's my art project for school." Sam watched on with a secret smile as Connor practically dragged the woman twice his size to his little corner of the studio. Mercedes, though she was much taller than him, had to break into a small sprint to keep up with him.

"Connor! Don't pull Mercedes's arm off! She kinda needs that!" Bree yelled as they rounded the corner, making her way towards Sam with a container of freshly washed brushes in her hands. "Hey, kid. Thanks for coming over. I owe you one."

"C'mon, hardly." Sam insisted, pulling her into a hug. "I mean, you helped me with Mercedes's gift and ordered her flowers for me. Great idea, by the way. I forgot I told you about the yellow roses and lavender thing. " When they parted, Sam set a hand on her shoulder, whispering, "Plus, there's the whole _other _thing..."

"You didn't tell Mercedes yet, did you?" Bree asked rhetorically, sighing in disapproval. "Sam, this is not something you just spring on your lady! When she finds out you're working for me, she'll hate me even more than she does now."

"Bree, Mercy doesn't hate you. Everything's cool now." Sam peeked over Bree's shoulder, nodding towards his fiancée sitting by the windowsill with Connor in her lap. The young boy was clearly talking her ear off, but Mercedes didn't seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, she appeared fully engaged, nodding and smiling in genuine interest. "She told me yesterday that she wasn't holding any secret grudges about what happened. I believe her."

"Yeah, but that was about _yesterday. _This is a brand new surprise, and I've gotta say, I'm not liking how both scenarios revolved around me." Bree anxiously remarked, watching her son dot a blob of green paint on Mercedes's nose. Bree smiled when Mercedes did, and noticed for the first time how picturesque the two looked together. "He's not usually so engaged with strangers. Connor's a kid who's slow to warm up to people."

"Yeah, I know. First time we met, he kicked me in the knee," recalled Sam with a smirk, reaching down to rub away the phantom pain. "Pretty sure my kneecap is splintered now."

"Then I'm pretty sure you need to up your calcium intake, kid," chuckled Bree, punching his shoulder. The two felt Mercedes's eyes on them, and the tiny instance of hurt in her eyes seconds before she looked away was enough to spark Bree to action.

"Okay, c'mon. We're not doing this." Bree stated firmly, grabbing Sam's hand and dragging him toward the window, much like Connor did to Mercedes earlier. "You're telling her right now or our deal is off."

"Tell me what?" Mercedes asked softly, lifting Connor off her lap to seat him in her spot as she stood. "What's going on?"

"Sam's working with me as a teacher's assistant until he finds something steady. It's a paid position." Bree blurted out, just as Sam opened his mouth to speak. "Sam was supposed to tell you." She glared at the blond next to her, shoving his shoulder to push him forward. "Go on, tell her! Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Because you spilled the beans before I could say anything!" Sam said incredulously, rubbing his shoulder. "And god, what do you guys eat, iron shavings? How the hell are you both so strong?"

"A lotta spinach," noted Connor from his seat, immersed in his finger painting. His tongue jutted out the corner of his mouth as he completed his last artistic stroke, and once the image satisfied him, he shot Sam a glare of his own, mimicking his mother. "And you're _not _supposed to say curse words around me. I'm four and very 'preshnable."

"_Impressionable_, Connor." Bree gently corrected. "Remember to pronounce each syllable like I taught you. Remember what your speech instructor said, think quickly, but speak _slowly_."

Connor rolled his little brown eyes and huffed, lifting his painting up to cover his face. "Yes, mommy."

"Sam, what is Bree talking about?" Mercedes asked, stepping towards him, "You're working here now?"

"Um, surprise? I was hoping it would cheer you up." Sam bashfully explained, face tinged pink. "Since you and I made up and you're cool with Bree now, I called her this morning to confirm that I accepted the job. It's not as much money as performing, but it's enough to cover our bills and still have some left over to eat out sometimes. And here, the environment's way calmer and less pressure, so hopefully it'll help me, y'know...get _better._" Sam stressed with a pointed glance to his body, referencing his eating issues without having to confess them in front of Bree and Conner. "I thought it was a win-win."

Mercedes was silent for a long moment, glancing between an anxious looking Bree and the hopeful eyes of her fiancé. Connor, who was such a perceptive child, stood and walked over to take her hand, capturing her attention.

"You can come too, if you want," smiled the little boy, wrapping his other arm around her waist to hug her as he stared up to speak. "I like it when you're here. Mr. Sam and mommy can work and you can be _my_ friend! None of the other grown-ups want to make art with me, anyways."

Mercedes smiled feebly at the boy and raked back his hair, gently pinching the dimples in his cheeks. "I would like that, Connor. You are great company."

The boy's smile grew, and he stretched his arms up towards her, bouncing on his feet as he waited to be picked up. Mercedes obliged him, unable to resist his adorable charms, shifting him in her arms to settle against her hip.

Connor rested his chin on her shoulder, cupping a hand over his mouth as he whispered, "If you say yes, I can bake you chocolate chip cookies."

All three adults broke into smile, in spite of themselves, at the innocent offer. "So, will you stay with us?"

"Will you get to create your own art here, Sam?" Mercedes asked, recalling their conversation this morning. "Will you be happier?"

"Yeah, I really think so." Sam nodded, certain of his answer to both questions. "When I'm here, I don't feel dead inside anymore. I feel like I'm doing something that's right for me." He took Mercedes's hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles, stepping forward. "But if you're not okay with it Mercy, then I swear I'll keep looking for work. I'm expecting one last paycheck from the music gig, and that should hold us over for at least a couple of months until I find something else."

Mercedes acknowledged the alternative with a nod of her own. "But...you're happy _here_, right?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, smiling faintly. "Yes, I really am."

She nibbled the corner of her lip, lost in thought for a moment, until her eyes landed on Bree's shuffling form behind him. She paused and stood still, barely blinking as she stared back. Both women knew of Mercedes's concerns, of why she hesitated to say yes right away. The anxiousness in Bree's gaze morphed into an empathetic understanding, pleading wordlessly with Mercedes to trust her.

"Okay," exhaled Mercedes, breaking their silent communication to glance back at Sam. She squeezed the hand in hers and smiled for him, hoping to allay his fears. "This is fine, then. I trust you."

"Yay! You're gonna keep us!" exclaimed Connor, clapping excitedly. "Put me down so we can go play!"

Mercedes chuckled and bent down to set his feet on the floor. The boy ran with a new burst of energy, gathering supplies of brushes and small containers of paint at rapid speed until his small arms overflowed. He turned back to the adults in the room with a wide grin, holding out his spoils. "Are you ready, Ms. Mercedes? Let's go! Let's go!"

"Set it up for me, okay? I'm coming." Mercedes called out, touched by his enthusiasm.

"I'll go help him so he doesn't make a mess," offered Sam, "I don't know what it is about you, sweetheart. You have big and little men stumbling over their feet, doing anything to keep you happy." He pressed a kiss to her cheek before running off in Connor's direction.

Bree wiped her hands in her smock and nearly tripped over her converses to catch Mercedes before she could move away, grabbing her hand in the same way Sam had earlier. "Thank you."

Mercedes seemed confused by the sentiment. "For saying it was okay for Sam to work here? I did it for him."

"I know! I know that. But..." Bree rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and sighed, choosing her words carefully. "The fact that you trust him here with me, after everything that happened a couple days ago, means a lot to me as well. I, uh...I really like having you guys around." The confession made her cheeks tinge pink. "Connor's really taken with you, especially."

"Well, I'm just as taken with him," smiled Mercedes, speaking from her heart. "He's has a very infectious disposition. You can't help but be happy when he's around. He kind of reminds me of Sam in that way."

"He reminds me of his father, so honest and sure of himself. Since he could talk, Connor's always communicated exactly what he wants out of life. Confidence like that is enviable. I can't believe my boy's gonna be five soon." Bree smiled back, casting a loving glance toward her laughing son. "You know, people always tell you what a responsibility it is to care for a child. They share their struggles, offer advice, and praise you for the things that will make you a good mother. But you know what? There's never enough words to describe how much that little person changes your life. He taught me everything it meant to be a better woman, to be strong without losing heart. Everything important thing I've learned as a mother came from him, not any fancy self-help books or manuals." Bree's eyes brimmed with joyful tears as she squeezed Mercedes's hand, tighter than normal due to the wonderful emotions swelling in her breast.

"I hope that you have that one day, Mercedes. I hope that, just like today, you'll trust yourself enough, trust your _heart _enough, to make the bold choice of becoming a parent. Because I promise you, as hard as it is sometimes, there's nothing in the world that matters more than that little person, that _life_, that'll transform you forever."

Mercedes swallowed hard and blinked bewilderedly, fighting the tears welling in her own eyes from Bree's timely speech. How did she know to say that?

"I'm sorry, I'm rambling." Bree laughed at herself, swiping away the wetness from her lower lids. "God, what a turn-off! I have no idea where that came from. I guess I was just trying to say...thank you for allowing Sam to have this. We both know how much it means to him and...it means a lot to me, too. You trusting me and everything. I'd really like us to be friends."

Bree squeezed her shoulder and walked away, headed towards Sam and Connor, who were arguing over color choices for their shared painting. Mercedes watched as Bree stepped between them, leaning over until her long blonde locks hung precariously over an open container of violet paint, and settled their dispute with a choice of her own. The entire scene looked so domestic, so well-practiced, as if they'd been a unit for long time.

Her hand drifted over her own belly, discretely brushing her fingers across the area as she went over Bree's words in her head. Yes, her fear of change stemmed from all the bad things that had happened to her. But, babies were obvious good changes, weren't they? They were essentially blank canvases themselves, equipped with all the potential to be masterpieces. All she and Sam would have to do is love them and provide an environment where they feel safe to become, to explore all of the colors God placed inside of them.

For the first time since her positive pregnancy test, Mercedes found herself considering the possibilities in a positive light. This change perhaps, if it was in the cards for her, could be her very salvation from fear.

**O-O**

**What did you think of Mercedes's decision to keep her results hidden? Or of Sam's decision to work with Bree? How were Bree's vibes in this chapter? Do you believe that her desire for friendship with Mercedes is genuine?**

**And isn't little Connor just the absolute cutest? **

**Leave a review and give me your two cents! **


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